The fading charm of Bollywood and the juggernaut of South Indian cinema

Are people just skeptical of going to the theatres or have they simply become more discerning with the kind of movies they would want to actually spend hard cash on?

The French auteur Jean-Luc Godard once famously said that cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world. However, it’s a fraud we willingly invest in, make it, nurture it, bask in its ability to pull us into a world all too relatable yet with an escapist promise to it. But what happens when one of Indian cinema’s safest bets–Bollywood–is turned on its head by factors and aspects no one truly knows about?

Lal Singh Chaddha. Thugs of Hindostan. Kalank. Raksha Bandhan. Samrat Prithviraj. Shamshera. 83.

The list is endless and all of them have certain common denominators—big stars, massive budgets, epic in terms of scale, almost patriotic in their ability to evoke rousing emotions, and seemingly in tune with the national mood.

Where did Bollywood go wrong? And can it, perhaps, learn a lesson or two from the pan-Indian appeal of South Indian films?

Collin D’Cunha, who will be making his directorial debut with Dharma Productions soon, having been the assistant director for movies such as Sanju and Talaash, among others, says that the perception that all South Indian movies are doing well might not be completely true either.

“A lot of South Indian films have underperformed massively, too, except we don’t hear about them in Bombay,” he says. “One certainly can’t deny the success and appeal of movies such as Pushpa and RRR or even the KGF movies. The way I see it, movies in theatres, in general, aren't doing well.”

The elite warlords

Amidst all the mudslinging directed at Bollywood and its stars during the COVID-19 pandemic, there seems to be a growing perception that Bollywood is out of touch from reality and only understands the realities of India from a heavily filtered, artificial lenses of marketing numbers and lopsided research. The more radical interpretations of this understanding is manifested in statements given by actors such as Kangana Ranaut who believe that the gatekeepers of Bollywood hate outsiders, stifle competition and creativity and regurgitate the same old formulas of filmmaking.

According to director and writer Neeraj Ghaywan—whose 2015 film Masaan received widespread critical acclaim, decent box office returns, marked the successful arrival of actor Vicky Kaushal and won two prestigious awards at the Cannes Film Festival—the “out-of-touch” theory must be understood in a more nuanced manner, particularly in comparison of South Indian films.

“South Indian films have understood the importance of movies that are rooted in authentic, raw and lived experiences,” says Ghaywan. “If you look at movies like Pushpa, you can see that they are not fetishising anything for international audiences. They feel real and authentic which is why even their dubbed versions are widely appreciated in North India—you can relate to such films on a human, Indian level.”

In the 2019 Malayalam film Jalikattu–India’s official entry for the Academy Awards later that year–a bull goes on a rampage in the village after escaping from the abattoir. There is no diluting for the white and North Indian gaze, the technical finesse in terms of the layered sound design and stunning visuals of the hillside village complement the bloodthirsty villagers who are after it.

When was the last time Bollywood made a film that was deeply authentic to the lived experiences of India, yet packaged with all the elements that make it entertaining and a crowd-pleaser? In many ways, this question answers itself and they are not pretty answers.

Original storytelling

According to Dr Aarti Kapur Singh, film scholar and commentator who did her PhD in gender in cinema from Panjab University, most Bollywood films are now piggybacking on the success of South Indian films and coming up with lousy remakes that lack any semblance of originality.

“Even the way South Indian films use technology is spectacular, if you look at RRR and Baahubali,” she says. “There is no mindless application of tech just for the sake of it. In Bollywood, the content is staccato and detached from originality because we rely on stars to make the films work. In South India, the films make the stars shine and not the other way round.”

Singh cites the example of how the song ‘Oo Antava’ from Pushpa became popular by going viral online after the movie was released. It was, in many ways, the addendum, the result of an already loved movie. The promotions or the marketing material did not hype actor Samantha’s curves, nor was she plastered on every poster.

“Shamshera had promise but the entire focus was on Ranbir Kapoor,” she says. “Even in terms of visuals, you can see that they have tried to replicate the aesthetics and colour palette of RRR, right from the posters to even the scenes.”

With the Shahid Kapoor-starrer Jersey, which flopped after massive delays and the second wave of the pandemic, Singh says that it was very brash of the filmmakers to adapt it from the Telugu original within just a year. After all, who would watch a remake of the original film that had been released just a year earlier?

Delvin Davis, a cinephile who grew up in Kerala watching a wide array of films, says that Bollywood makes “no-brainer” films to the point where they truly take the audiences for granted.

“South Indian films have been relatable and they make Indians feel things they never felt before,” he says. “People got accustomed to watching rich Indian families in mansions in Karan Johar films because no one else was making any films otherwise. On the other hand, South Indian films made them feel seen, there were songs and dance sequences that they actually enjoyed, the character motivations weren’t flimsy and first world-based,” concludes Davis.

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