In this world of India's screen idols, Cruise and Roberts are unknown entities but the Khans, Bachchans and beauty queens dominate celluloid dreams.
P.Ramakrishnan welcomes you to Bollywood.
A long row of heads snake to the ticket counter outside Ega Theatre on a scorching Sunday afternoon in Chennai, India's fourth largest city. It's the first weekend show of the Hindi film
Daud, meaning Run. It stars two of India's hottest stars and the film's music is simmering on the charts. Luckily, a scalper is selling tickets for 250 rupees, equivalent to US$5.50, while the real value is only 50 cents. "Good action. Heroine hot. Super-hit songs, on-lee two-fifty," over enunciates the illicit salesman.
In the large amphitheater, a minute before the film begins, the curtains draw apart to taped music and lights illuminate the mammoth screen. Many in the audience are considerably well attired and the entire film-watching exercise is mink-coated with a bygone formality of attending a screening. One expects glamorous stars to take centre stage under a shower of flashbulbs but other than a uniformed usher seating a late attendee, there's nary a celebrity in sight.
As the titles reel across, someone shouts a laudatory comment in the local dialect as the main protagonist's name appears in bold. The hero doesn't appear in the film until the premise of the tale is established. Ten minutes into the movie, a mini commotion erupts when he finally does show his face. Dozens in the audience whistle, a few more clap. When the heroine's famous locks sway side to side in slow motion as the camera pans across her back, there's more catcalling and applause.
During a particularly well-executed action-shot, people hurl pennies and lemons onto the stage in the most blatant act of deference hitherto unseen outside of temples littered across the city. In obscure towns and villages across India, temples to movie stars are erected, but to see the deification in action is an eye-opener.
As the musical reaches its crescendo overly enthusiastic fans take the stage and start dancing to the hit song. The screening is halted. Lights come on. The police come in and some of the dancers swoosh back into their seats while the more fanatical are escorted out. The show continues.
Most fans cannot remember what the first film they watched was about, but most also never forget their first tryst with Mumbai's magical movie mayhem, aka Bollywood, the all-singing, all-dancing euphoria that leaves even the most jaded critic bemused, if not amused. There's nothing quite like the success of excess, which defines the mammoth Hindi film industry.
With an ever expanding audience of more than a billion, Bollywood can be seen as an alternative to Hollywood's clinical and polished products. The phenomenon has been subtitled or translated across Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and now is brimming over to Western cultures. Hollywood should take note of this crouching, or should that be dancing, tiger.
Across Asian cinemas, indigenous movie industries have buckled under the global takeover of Hollywood. Incapable of competing with the monstrous budgets and effect-laden extravaganzas such as the Star Wars sequels and prequels or the Harry Potter series, Korean, Japanese, Chinese and Malay audiences have shown their back to their respective film industries, which were already ailing in the losing battle against piracy. The Hong Kong film industry used to produce nearly 700 films per annum, but that figure spiralled down to 400 in 2003.
The only industry to successfully flick off Hollywood has been Bollywood - where other than an occasional patronage of films like Titanic or
Spiderman, the audience remains disinterested even in the dubbed-in-Hindi versions of Shrek, Matrix and Mission Impossible.
The Bollywood cast almost always gorgeous. All the beauty queens in the past decade that sprouted from India are currently starring in films. The heroes are paragons of virtue and the villains, pure evil. There is very little subtlety in emotion, the plots are more often than not predictable and yes, every actor - from the sobbing widow-mother and the moustached gangsters to the protagonists - must sing and dance on screen, regardless of talent or ability.
Playback artists provide vocals to the tone-deaf but telegenic cast, and choreographers can take up to two weeks to shoot a five-minute song sequence of the biggest stars dancing to their tunes. Gone are the days of dancing around trees in rainbow-coloured costumes. The latest flicks are executed with epic Broadway-style perfection. Dance director Farah Khan was nominated last year for a Tony for her work, which she fashioned for Andrew Lloyd Weber's
Bollywood Dreams.
Unfortunately, Bollywood can never be taken too seriously. Whether it's a film about war, romance, ethnic conflict, Aids, cancer or any other tragedy, the lead will suddenly burst into song at any given elegiac opportunity.
So can an Indian film, without the standard commercial staples of song-and-dance, evolve like Hollywood did, shedding the dance dramas, in the natural evolution of cinema? The most famous man in India, actor Amitabh Bachchan says, "Indian movies come with certain expectations. A mixture of song and dance, comedy, drama, action, emotions are served together. If a film is offered to me without the usual elements, I see no problem in doing the film. I am not disheartened by commercial failure."
In his 30-year career, with more than 100 films in his cinematic CV he's done less than a handful of non-musicals. At the age of 62, he still dances with age-defying grace, even if the role demands him to be the grave patriarch in the film.
Reflecting on
Main Azaad Hoon, or "I am Free", a serious, song-less movie, Bachchan says, "I think it was a very sensitive film, it was very dramatic film. Obviously, it didn't do as well as expected and that's the end of the story."
Starting off as a minor character artist, the thin, lanky Bachchan came from humble beginnings. His poet father couldn't launch his son in the movies - Bollywood is notoriously nepotistic. It took him nine films, in roles of varying length and quality, before his career took off in 1973 as the "angry young man" of the film
Zanjeer ("Chains"). In his movies he fought corruption, gangsters, nefarious politicians and booted a dozen goons single-handedly while ultra-glamorous gals sashayed around him. He was the embodiment of a hero in the following decades and remains much loved by the nation.
His popularity was so strong in the '80s, that Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi asked him to join politics, but his fame didn't register as well in the ballots. Returning to films, audiences flocked to see him again and now, 35 years since he starred his first film, he has acquired living legend status. "I am very grateful for the affection and support the people of my country have bestowed upon me, during my most difficult times as well as otherwise. As long as I have their support I will remain in the industry," affirms the Emperor of Indian cinema.
Currently, almost all the stars in Bollywood are progeny of yesteryear actors, producers or directors. Even Bachchan's son Abhishek, joined the constellation in 2000.
Shah Rukh Khan, the current young King of Bollywood, is the glaring exception. A stage and theatre actor who starred in television, he shifted from Delhi to Mumbai to court cinema, a daring choice that paid rich dividends. He starred in regular fare at first, but took on three negative roles in films
Baazigar (Gambler),
Darr (Fear) and
Anjaam (Result). While the first two films were major successes at the box office, establishing him as a cult-figure, the last one bombed. Now he romances a bevy of Bollywood beauties in soft-focus, frothy romances.
For women, it's just as difficult to find a foothold in cinema unless their lineage connects them to the film industry. Since 1994 however, there's been a window opening for the fairer sex - sheaf through a catalogue of Indian leading ladies and each seems more glamorous and gorgeous than the last. Aishwarya Rai was Miss World, Sushmita Sen was Miss Universe, and Diya Mirza was Miss Asia Pacific. Gone are the days of buxom divas in sequins and garish gowns. Buoyant on their pageant-winning fame, producers almost immediately sign on the former models or beauty queens and roll out the red carpet. As pageantry work lasts but for a year, all want to keep their celebrity status alight and films enable them to do this.
Among the beauty queens, Aishwarya Rai and Sushmita Sen are head and shoulders above their competition. The first Indian actress to find her replica at Madam Toussauds's in London, Rai also appeared on the cover of TIME magazine earlier this year as the face of Bollywood and was listed as one of the 100 most influential people in the world by the same magazine.
Her fame has crossed borders. She appears with Martin Henderson in the English film
Bride and Prejudice this year. With upcoming films in the company of Michael Douglas, Meryl Streep and Brendan Fraser, her sari-strapped shoulders are poised for a global takeover. When Julia Roberts saw Rai at Cannes in 2002, she gasped, "She is the most beautiful woman in the world."
Sushmita Sen, the first Miss Universe to sashay into films, also in 1994, makes no pretences on what the directors are looking for. "At the set of my last film, I came out of my make-up room dressed to the hilt. My director, the cameraman and so on stood there looking at the pleats of my sari, if my hair was ok, if the nail-polish matched everything... and then I was asked to go change this, that and beyond. Film is a visual medium and I have no qualms about looking the part, as long as I don't look stupid!"
Sen hasn't made a heady splash at the box office. Her preference for off-beat, serious movies caters to a niche audience - she hasn't been part of a
masala film.
Masala, which is an amalgam of spices, is an oft-repeated phrase for a typical Hindi movie.
Respected producer Yash Johar, who recently passed away aged 75, previously said, "In the West, one goes to see a film with boyfriends and girlfriends. In India, you go with the entire family to see a film so it must have something for everyone." With his last three releases finding box office gold, he and his writer/director son Karan have found a winning formula. "There is no room for vulgarity or nudity, and the current trend of sexy movies is just a phase. A mass audience will eventually reject obscenity and we must think of socially responsible films for everyone," assures producer.
"My audience is no longer just the Indian market. We are selling our films around the globe. Prints of my latest movie have gone to Arab countries, Malaysia, England and Russia with English subtitles. We shot a part of my last film in New York and hired American dancers and actors for scenes, and they were so happy to join us. Shah Rukh's popularity has spread across the suburbs of New Jersey and New York - we had to get security for him." laughs Johar.
Films in India, in comparison to Hollywood, are made from modest budgets. The most expensive film ever made in Bollywood has
Devdas (2002), a lavish visual spectacle that purportedly cost US$10.8 million. It has so far grossed $12 million at the box office. Most movies are made for a fraction of that cost. The highest grossing Indian film in the international market has been
Monsoon Wedding, which grossed $30.7 million. The film was made for a budget of $7 million. The highest paid actors are Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan and Hrithik Roshan, each getting anywhere between $700,000 and 900,000. Remuneration varies according to the length of the role, the producer and,
a la Tom Cruise, back-end deals according to box office results.
Actresses Kareena Kapoor and Aishwarya Rai lead the way with deals of up to $500,000. Market savvy Rai, however, has made a killing with wise modelling contracts with major brands as a spokesperson for L'Oreal hair care products, Coca Cola, Fuji film and Nakshatra diamonds. And according to well-publicised reports, Rai landed a one-year $700,000 contract with Lux soap in India. Walk through Wanchai in Hong Kong, the airports of Singapore, or a mall in Paris and the fair, green-eyed Indian goddess stares out from various Longines posters.
Back at Chennai, the weekend premiere of
Daud is over and the savvy illicit ticket salesman is still out on the street. When asked if he goes to see foreign films, he replies "I eat pizza. OK. Nice. But later I had
dosa again; pizza is not very filling. In same way, English pictures are ok, but you need more action, like a Hindi picture."
Hong Kong Tatler, December 2004 
