19 Jun 2016

Till smiles and touches do us part

Yesterday, as I was going through the list of 'Recently uploaded' videos on YouTube, I came across the '440 Volt song' from the yet-to-be-released Sultan movie. I played the video, intrigued by the title and after I had watched the video, I couldn't stop thinking about it for some time. 
The video had not affected me because of its score or visuals. To be honest, the beats of the song had reminded me of 'Saree ke Fall sa'.  
The impact had, instead, been simply because of a line from the song.
"Lag gayi 440 volt choone se thaerae..." (Stung by bolts, 440 volts.. On your feather touch - translated as per YouTube).
On first thought, the line seems like an innocent celebration of the hero on being touched by the heroine. But thinking about it further, is this the catch-phrase we would want to leave adolescent boys with? 
Are we going to tell them that it is worth celebrating, perhaps even okay to fall in love, if a girl touches them?

There is a scene in the beautifully shot and brilliantly composed 'Aasai oru pulveli' which plays out like this.
The hero and the heroine are seated next to one another, having a conversation. The hero slowly moves his left knee closer to the heroine's leg and as they are about to touch, he hesitantly pulls it back. But he does not give up. He moves his left knee again and on the second attempt, manages to touch the heroine's leg. As their legs touch, the camera rises to the hero's face to show a sense of triumph. 
The first time I had watched this scene, I had smiled. But yesterday, I was made to rethink about it. 
By showing a boy's leg/hand touch a girl's, and by symbolizing it as a victorious step towards romance, are we presenting a very wrong idea to the teenagers?
(Attakathi, in a way, seemed better than most other films depicting such scenes because it also showed by its tragicomic climax, the result of such false romantic assumptions)

Many Tamil films (and many regional films of India) commit this mistake of glorifying the smile or touch of the opposite gender. 
"Ava enna paarthu sirichaa machaan" ("She smiled looking at me, dude") is either treated as a motivation for falling in love or as an indicator of romantic success. 
Seriously?!
Is love that easy?
What about the slow and beautiful process of getting to know one another, becoming aware of the likes and dislikes, coming to terms with the mistakes and shortcomings?
When will we start showing love blossoming out of time spent with one other instead of the usual norm of love happening in a paltry 3-4 scenes?

Cinema has had a very important place in our culture, at times to such an extent of letting some of its favorite kids become leaders of states. That being the case, the responsibility that falls on cinema and its practitioners is huge.
Does this mean that a filmmaker should not express in entirety his thoughts or opinions?
No. That would be a sin. A sin, we as a country, are already committing to a large extent, letting our artists suffer. 
But if a film is going to leave a 15 year old boy believing that a girl's smile is an indicator of a positive romantic feeling, I feel really scared for his future.
Which I believe is a warning of sorts that we need to mature as an audience. Perhaps, also as a society.
Till the time we continue treating the opposite gender's touch or smile any different from our own gender's, we are never going to progress. Or for that matter, let our art progress. 
Our cinema is in bad need of memorable female characters like Nina in Black Swan, Amy in Gone Girl, Christine in Changeling, Julie in Three Colors: Blue and the Bride in Kill Bill. 
And that is not going to happen till we stop our heroes from breaking into songs just because the heroine's shoulder rubbed their's. 

Also, if love had been as simple as a touch or smile, bus conductors and portrait photographers should have been the luckiest guys on this planet. 
But I really don't see that many bus conductors beaming with uncontrollable happiness. 
Which makes me wonder if some of our filmmakers do.

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