Published in The Bengal Post on 2nd February 2013.
Irrespective of the general dislike you have for the over exaggerated and melodramatic numbers dished out by Bollywood, it would probably be difficult for you to completely ignore the poster of Rowdy Rathore. A digitally painted Akshay Kumar wears glares to hide the arrogant rage of his eyes, fingers tightly in a fist. In the background are confident brush strokes of crimson, black, yellow and orange, in an explosion of colour. You get enthralled by the raw energy of the poster, the rustic mode that almost gives you a sense of adrenalin. It’s loud, but you do not mind, it’s an antithesis of anything that’s suave or classy, but you somehow feel more drawn to this than anything else. Little do you realise, that in a way, the poster is the same melodramatic exaggeration that you have come to associate Bollywood with. You end up loving it anyway, for sometimes, it’s very difficult not to, when it comes to kitsch.
The dictionary meaning of kitsch is succinct – ‘characterized by worthless pretentiousness’. A few others describe it as excessively garish or sentimental art; usually considered in bad taste. What’s more, its etymology also is quite in line with what it has come to mean in the general sense of the term. It’s a word that entered the German language in the mid 19th century, and often was referred to as a synonym of the word ‘trash’. It came in the common tongue in the 1860s and 70s in the art markets of Munich describing, as stated above, loud art of the very cheap taste. So to begin with, ‘kitsch’ was never something that one would have ideally aspired to pursue in the aesthetically sensitive world of art.
However, it was made of stronger character. Much like the black sheep who rose against all odds in an unsuspectingly underestimating family, kitsch slowly found a very interesting space of its own in art. Mainly for its populist appeal, it became a very effective medium for the artists to use it as a statement against the elite; so ironically, it became a popular art form which, in a way, was also existential. In the mid 20th century, it was utilized to describe both objects and a way of life brought on by the urbanization and mass-production of the industrial revolution. So it touched a very complex topic about the mass culture and commercialisation of art in the society. What started off as garbage art for the less intellectual, became a counter movement to anything that was avant-garde.
The trouble with kitsch though, lies in its adaptation in other forms of art. While in painting, it can make an all encompassing statement, almost celebrating melodrama and thick sentimentality by loud colours and superfluous rendition of anything that is utterly mundane (Andy Warhol’s Banana for example), the same principle often ends up creating a less amusing appeal and more of just bad art if one tries it with cinema. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Bollywood seems to be prescribing right now. “Cinema is a different art form, and hence, utilisation of certain aspects becomes different,” says cinematographer and filmmaker Anirban Lahiri, saying that kitsch is something that can actually enhance a film with proper utilisation. “It should be used like salt is used in cooking, if you give a lot of it, it would become too salty to taste, but the correct amount would enhance the dish.”
This underlying utilisation in the two different forms explains the difference of the quality of the posters of Rowdy Rathod, Khiladi 786 or Singham and their respective films. While their posters are impeccable illustrations of finely produced kitsch art with a generous use of colour, drama and emotion, the problem with these movies is the fact that their narratives are just that. “Kitsch in films should ideally be a means to the end,” says Avishek Mukherjee, a screenplay writer, stating that if used intelligently, it can be really interesting. Interestingly, that is something that Dabbang did very well. The tackiness was markedly shown more as a parody than it giving the impression of taking itself more seriously than required. Lahiri, a professor of film studies at the DA Film School, makes the point that one of the reasons Dabbang was intelligently made was the fact that it was, in a way, a return of the angry young man, only in a funnier avatar. “So people who have grown up on the Bachchan films of 70s and 80s were reminded of those films through Dabbang, more in a fun way than making the very same thing. And for viewers of 18 or 19 years who weren’t exposed to those films, it was a new experience altogether,” he says. Chulbul Pandey was loud, crass, disrespectful and dishonest, he was angry, but also funny at the same time, and so were the film’s colourful villains. It never really gave an impression that even for a moment, Dabbang was taking itself seriously, and that’s how kitsch works.
In sharp contrast to that, the unnecessary blowing up of cars, or the roar of the tiger to announce the arrival of an extremely angry Ajay Devgan in Singham, is neither here nor there. For Singham never really makes up its mind as to how it should be seen, as a serious action story or an over the top parody. It ends up taking itself a little too seriously than it should have and becomes neither. It’s a different matter altogether, that it is also a reproduction of something that has already worked in the south so an effort to carve out an original identity of the film itself was never the issue. Then there are movies like Son Of Sardar that misuses kitsch in other ways. SoS is something that exemplifies Lahiri’s analogy of making salt the main ingredient of the dish rather than a supporting element. It is nothing but two hours of garish content with absolutely no reason or continuity or meat or even a proper story, which might sound very unique, but at the end of the day, if those elements become the crux of the film, then the film becomes just that, jarring and garish.
Why then, do these films work? As records would proudly tell, that both Singham and Son of Sardar were able to keep the cash register ringing. And it wouldn’t be unfair of someone to come out and say that if so many people like them, then what’s so wrong with over utilisation of kitsch in films? “If you put a certain concoction of spices in a particular dish and people happen to like it, then they wouldn’t mind having the dish over and over again,” says Lahiri. Dabbang paved the way for a certain kind of films which had a serious Dabbang hangover, and people would not mind that for a while. But the problem lies with the fact that soon, they would become what they are, the same thing in different packages and something new will have to be thought about. It happened with the revenge stories in the 70s, family dramas of the mid 80s and romance in the 90s. The unfortunate part about the whole matter in the context is, as Bollywood moves on to some other tried and tested concept to overuse, it would also do a great disservice to kitsch as a potential form in Bollywood cinema. For it’s not rocket science to realise, that the both are made for each other.
Czech writer Milan Kundera once said, “"Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see the children running in the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running in the grass! It is the second tear which makes kitsch, kitsch." And it is this second tear that Bollywood has historically loved to cry. “One of the best kitsch films of Bollywood is Om Shanti Om. For it covers all the basic aspects of kitsch and at the same time uses it as a tool to tell a certain kind of story, in a certain way,” says Mukherjee. Om’s almost laughable melodrama with his even more melodramatic mother, the tribute to the cheesy song sequences of 60s, 70s and 80s, the deluge of colour in every scene reminding us the underlying lightness of the story no matter how serious the scene is, are all examples of how wonderfully Bollywood and kitsch can come together. As a classic instance of losing the plot though, OSO’s maker Farah Khan went ahead and crossed the line in Tees Maar Khan; where she decided to make the colours and the loudness and over the top drama the main elements of the film, disregarding the story completely. She used her film to express kitsch, and not the other way round, and the result was there for us to see. All TMK became was a ridiculous waste of money with nothing but stupidity to talk about.
This is the fine line that Bollywood commercial filmmakers should not cross if they want the art of kitsch to revel in their cinema. “Ideally, the characters should follow the story, but today in Bollywood, the story follows the character,” observes Lahiri, “which is fine. But when the characters themselves are not complete and are just a kitschy assemblage of certain traits, then we have a problem.” Directors often end up doing that when they make kitsch the end itself. One of the most striking memories of the 1992 film Rangeela was the bright yellow clothes that Aamir Khan wore to take his lady out on a date. We remember it not so much for the fact that it was ridiculously yellow, but because what that yellow did for the scene, and how it helped explaining the character’s inherent insecurities and also the desires that he could not express. It was garish and loud, and yet, it said much more than just that. It was of conventional bad taste, yet, that same fact very subtly took the narrative forward. That’s what kitsch can do to cinema.
Whitney Rugg from the Department of Art History, University of Chicago, observes, “Kitsch does not analyse culture but repackages and stylizes it. It reinforces established conventions, appealing to mass tastes and gratifying communal experiences.” Hence it is more like an adornment than the body to be adorned and that is something filmmakers often forget. The west has gotten over its mental blocks and has started celebrating kitsch as a respected art form. In fact, with the advent of post modernism in the 1980s, the gap between kitsch and high art has blurred further and today, much of pop art celebrates the basic ideas of kitsch. With a little awareness and effort, we can make some serious contribution in the evolution of this exciting form. It would be interesting to see whether Bollywood takes the much needed step towards more interesting content, or it loses kitsch in its characteristic sands of stereotype.
Picture courtesy: lensenth.wordpress.com
Irrespective of the general dislike you have for the over exaggerated and melodramatic numbers dished out by Bollywood, it would probably be difficult for you to completely ignore the poster of Rowdy Rathore. A digitally painted Akshay Kumar wears glares to hide the arrogant rage of his eyes, fingers tightly in a fist. In the background are confident brush strokes of crimson, black, yellow and orange, in an explosion of colour. You get enthralled by the raw energy of the poster, the rustic mode that almost gives you a sense of adrenalin. It’s loud, but you do not mind, it’s an antithesis of anything that’s suave or classy, but you somehow feel more drawn to this than anything else. Little do you realise, that in a way, the poster is the same melodramatic exaggeration that you have come to associate Bollywood with. You end up loving it anyway, for sometimes, it’s very difficult not to, when it comes to kitsch.
The dictionary meaning of kitsch is succinct – ‘characterized by worthless pretentiousness’. A few others describe it as excessively garish or sentimental art; usually considered in bad taste. What’s more, its etymology also is quite in line with what it has come to mean in the general sense of the term. It’s a word that entered the German language in the mid 19th century, and often was referred to as a synonym of the word ‘trash’. It came in the common tongue in the 1860s and 70s in the art markets of Munich describing, as stated above, loud art of the very cheap taste. So to begin with, ‘kitsch’ was never something that one would have ideally aspired to pursue in the aesthetically sensitive world of art.
However, it was made of stronger character. Much like the black sheep who rose against all odds in an unsuspectingly underestimating family, kitsch slowly found a very interesting space of its own in art. Mainly for its populist appeal, it became a very effective medium for the artists to use it as a statement against the elite; so ironically, it became a popular art form which, in a way, was also existential. In the mid 20th century, it was utilized to describe both objects and a way of life brought on by the urbanization and mass-production of the industrial revolution. So it touched a very complex topic about the mass culture and commercialisation of art in the society. What started off as garbage art for the less intellectual, became a counter movement to anything that was avant-garde.
The trouble with kitsch though, lies in its adaptation in other forms of art. While in painting, it can make an all encompassing statement, almost celebrating melodrama and thick sentimentality by loud colours and superfluous rendition of anything that is utterly mundane (Andy Warhol’s Banana for example), the same principle often ends up creating a less amusing appeal and more of just bad art if one tries it with cinema. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Bollywood seems to be prescribing right now. “Cinema is a different art form, and hence, utilisation of certain aspects becomes different,” says cinematographer and filmmaker Anirban Lahiri, saying that kitsch is something that can actually enhance a film with proper utilisation. “It should be used like salt is used in cooking, if you give a lot of it, it would become too salty to taste, but the correct amount would enhance the dish.”
This underlying utilisation in the two different forms explains the difference of the quality of the posters of Rowdy Rathod, Khiladi 786 or Singham and their respective films. While their posters are impeccable illustrations of finely produced kitsch art with a generous use of colour, drama and emotion, the problem with these movies is the fact that their narratives are just that. “Kitsch in films should ideally be a means to the end,” says Avishek Mukherjee, a screenplay writer, stating that if used intelligently, it can be really interesting. Interestingly, that is something that Dabbang did very well. The tackiness was markedly shown more as a parody than it giving the impression of taking itself more seriously than required. Lahiri, a professor of film studies at the DA Film School, makes the point that one of the reasons Dabbang was intelligently made was the fact that it was, in a way, a return of the angry young man, only in a funnier avatar. “So people who have grown up on the Bachchan films of 70s and 80s were reminded of those films through Dabbang, more in a fun way than making the very same thing. And for viewers of 18 or 19 years who weren’t exposed to those films, it was a new experience altogether,” he says. Chulbul Pandey was loud, crass, disrespectful and dishonest, he was angry, but also funny at the same time, and so were the film’s colourful villains. It never really gave an impression that even for a moment, Dabbang was taking itself seriously, and that’s how kitsch works.
In sharp contrast to that, the unnecessary blowing up of cars, or the roar of the tiger to announce the arrival of an extremely angry Ajay Devgan in Singham, is neither here nor there. For Singham never really makes up its mind as to how it should be seen, as a serious action story or an over the top parody. It ends up taking itself a little too seriously than it should have and becomes neither. It’s a different matter altogether, that it is also a reproduction of something that has already worked in the south so an effort to carve out an original identity of the film itself was never the issue. Then there are movies like Son Of Sardar that misuses kitsch in other ways. SoS is something that exemplifies Lahiri’s analogy of making salt the main ingredient of the dish rather than a supporting element. It is nothing but two hours of garish content with absolutely no reason or continuity or meat or even a proper story, which might sound very unique, but at the end of the day, if those elements become the crux of the film, then the film becomes just that, jarring and garish.
Why then, do these films work? As records would proudly tell, that both Singham and Son of Sardar were able to keep the cash register ringing. And it wouldn’t be unfair of someone to come out and say that if so many people like them, then what’s so wrong with over utilisation of kitsch in films? “If you put a certain concoction of spices in a particular dish and people happen to like it, then they wouldn’t mind having the dish over and over again,” says Lahiri. Dabbang paved the way for a certain kind of films which had a serious Dabbang hangover, and people would not mind that for a while. But the problem lies with the fact that soon, they would become what they are, the same thing in different packages and something new will have to be thought about. It happened with the revenge stories in the 70s, family dramas of the mid 80s and romance in the 90s. The unfortunate part about the whole matter in the context is, as Bollywood moves on to some other tried and tested concept to overuse, it would also do a great disservice to kitsch as a potential form in Bollywood cinema. For it’s not rocket science to realise, that the both are made for each other.
Czech writer Milan Kundera once said, “"Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see the children running in the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running in the grass! It is the second tear which makes kitsch, kitsch." And it is this second tear that Bollywood has historically loved to cry. “One of the best kitsch films of Bollywood is Om Shanti Om. For it covers all the basic aspects of kitsch and at the same time uses it as a tool to tell a certain kind of story, in a certain way,” says Mukherjee. Om’s almost laughable melodrama with his even more melodramatic mother, the tribute to the cheesy song sequences of 60s, 70s and 80s, the deluge of colour in every scene reminding us the underlying lightness of the story no matter how serious the scene is, are all examples of how wonderfully Bollywood and kitsch can come together. As a classic instance of losing the plot though, OSO’s maker Farah Khan went ahead and crossed the line in Tees Maar Khan; where she decided to make the colours and the loudness and over the top drama the main elements of the film, disregarding the story completely. She used her film to express kitsch, and not the other way round, and the result was there for us to see. All TMK became was a ridiculous waste of money with nothing but stupidity to talk about.
This is the fine line that Bollywood commercial filmmakers should not cross if they want the art of kitsch to revel in their cinema. “Ideally, the characters should follow the story, but today in Bollywood, the story follows the character,” observes Lahiri, “which is fine. But when the characters themselves are not complete and are just a kitschy assemblage of certain traits, then we have a problem.” Directors often end up doing that when they make kitsch the end itself. One of the most striking memories of the 1992 film Rangeela was the bright yellow clothes that Aamir Khan wore to take his lady out on a date. We remember it not so much for the fact that it was ridiculously yellow, but because what that yellow did for the scene, and how it helped explaining the character’s inherent insecurities and also the desires that he could not express. It was garish and loud, and yet, it said much more than just that. It was of conventional bad taste, yet, that same fact very subtly took the narrative forward. That’s what kitsch can do to cinema.
Whitney Rugg from the Department of Art History, University of Chicago, observes, “Kitsch does not analyse culture but repackages and stylizes it. It reinforces established conventions, appealing to mass tastes and gratifying communal experiences.” Hence it is more like an adornment than the body to be adorned and that is something filmmakers often forget. The west has gotten over its mental blocks and has started celebrating kitsch as a respected art form. In fact, with the advent of post modernism in the 1980s, the gap between kitsch and high art has blurred further and today, much of pop art celebrates the basic ideas of kitsch. With a little awareness and effort, we can make some serious contribution in the evolution of this exciting form. It would be interesting to see whether Bollywood takes the much needed step towards more interesting content, or it loses kitsch in its characteristic sands of stereotype.
Picture courtesy: lensenth.wordpress.com
