Opinion Holding out for a real ‘Heroine’

Madhur Bhandarkar’s Heroine,an ode to Bollywood’s leading ladies,chooses to dwell on the dark side of show business. The mirror he holds up,quite like what cruel camera heroines court every day,captures every fake smile and grimace,every false act motivated by ambition. Film star Mahi Arora’s reckless pursuit of love and the numero uno crown sets her up for a downward spiral. Whether it is the rejection by her lover or the cricketer she courts briefly,the casting coups or the games she plays with the media,it all borrows generously from the lives of present day denizens of showbiz. But in Bhandarkar’s attempt at being true to “reality”,no new ground is broken.

Most Hindi films have been obsessed with the image of heroine as drunk on her own sexual prowess and fame; as someone hurtling towards self-destruction. No matter how dazzling the rise,it is the downfall that is often the fulcrum of her story. More often than not,she ends up solitary and suffering,a stereotype that no longer holds true.

In fact,one could say that Hindi films that have heroines at the centre have seldom truly captured the sum total of an actress’s life. Rangeela stopped short of painting Urmila Matondkar as a wannabe vixen,though that could have been a logical conclusion. Her Milee is enamoured of the razzle-dazzle of showbiz and enjoys the attention showered on her by her co-star,but inexplicably goes back to the chawls into the arms of her childhood sweetheart. How often does that happen in life or in movies? Remember Freida Pinto,the model from Malad whose name now shines bright in Hollywood blockbusters? After the success of Slumdog Millionaire,she broke off her engagement to her anonymous fiance and trotted off with co-star Dev Patel to Hollywood and a life befitting an international movie star.

Bhandarkar says that his heroine’s alcohol-swigging and pill-popping are borrowed from Hollywood’s Marilyn Monroe. And yet,the makers of My Week with Marilyn chose to capture the one thing rarely celebrated in most Bollywood films about heroines: her feminine wiles and the ability to use it to survive the odds. Monroe,in this period of her life,is in the UK shooting with Sir Lawrence Olivier for The Prince and the Showgirl. With her talent and acting abilities under question,not to mention the annoying habit of arriving late for shoots with a tutor,Monroe,ever the star,seduces young Colin Clark,a third assistant on the film,to reiterate her stardom to her co-actor,as also to herself. Bollywood,on the other hand,prefers to show heroines who always crash-land as victims of their circumstances,helpless even at the height of their success.

It’s tough to be an actor and perhaps even tougher to be an actress,but our leading ladies are no shrinking violets. Be it the young ladies — Aishwarya Rai Bachchan,Deepika Padukone,Kareena Kapoor,Preity Zinta,Priyanka Chopra,Vidya Balan or erstwhile actresses like Asha Parekh,Hema Malini,Shabana Azmi,Sharmila Tagore or Waheeda Rahman — they have lived by their own rules. There may have been heartache and pain,but there were also glorious triumphs — something that Hindi films need to acknowledge better.

It’s a pity that most filmmakers still consider the Heroine to be a tragedienne cast in the mould of Meena Kumari or someone psychologically unhinged,like Parveen Babi. In an industry where the male point of view dominates,the idea of the imploding,self-destructive heroine is perhaps more credible than reality. Quite like the dumb-blonde myth about Monroe.

Priyanka Sinha Jha is editor of ‘Screen’