No laughing matter

I recently had the misfortune of watching Grand Masti, a Hindi movie touted as India’s first adult comedy. Having suffered through the film, I was not amused to learn that it has entered the hallowed Rs100-crore club (a crore works out to 10 million) in terms of its performance at the box office.

Clearly, this movie was made for the single-screen theatre era, where the frontbenchers (the cheapest seats) trooped in to get some cheap thrills. That a film like this should do so well in the multiplex era where the audience -- I would like to believe -- is educated and discerning, came as a shock to me. But then there are still plenty of single-screen theatres in India and perhaps it made its money there. Let’s be clear, Grand Masti is not funny unless fantasizing about skimpily-clad women every waking moment is your idea of comedy. To me, this film was made for lechers, who enjoyed it so much that they catapulted it to box office stardom. Yes, I realize a little bit of my money contributed to its success, and I am deeply embarrassed.

The film, which is a sequel to Masti (released in 2004), is based on the original premise of three sex-starved married men and their escapades. The problem? The first one had a semblance of a storyline and was funny in parts. The sequel’s plot and storyline are like the clothes worn by the women in the film – neither here nor there. In Masti, the leading actors were required to act; in Grand Masti all they are required to do is make vulgar expressions every other minute and mouth inane one-liners. Unless plunging necklines, bikinis and short skirts titillate you, there is no ‘sex’ in this film.

There are plenty of crass dialogues that sound so vulgar in Hindi that I won’t risk trying to translate them into English. This film takes the ‘leave your brains at home’ disclaimer to a new level. Sample this: The so-called temptresses in the film, conveniently named Rose, Mary and Marlow, are supposed to be the wife, sister and daughter of the college principal. That they all look the same age did not matter to the filmmaker. Now, in the first film, one of the leading actors has the line “I have an idea!” which usually leads to trouble. The filmmaker decided that it was such a hit that in Grand Masti we have the chap going “I have a grand idea!” so often that you want to tear your hair out. Creativity died a thousand deaths in the making of this film.

On a serious note, I thought a film like Grand Masti that portrays women as mere objects of desire was totally insensitive at a time when Indian society is furiously debating how it treats its women. Films like Grand Masti don’t do any good in light of the growing incidents of rape and molestation. At the risk of sounding elitist, there is a section of Indian society that is influenced by such movies. They have to be informed rather than their prejudices reinforced. But ‘formula’ filmmakers don’t care as long as the cash registers ring at the box office.

Finally, thanks to in-your-face promotional strategies adopted by big-budget films, everyone hears of Grand Masti, but a well-made film like The Lunchbox is condemned to obscurity. And that is a tragedy.