The screen ladies may be laapataa, but then so are the rest of us ladies. Lost. Adrift. Especially after reading why Laapataa Ladies (LL) was chosen.
While every year the official entry to the Oscars is usually that one film that is unlikely to win, this time it is the citation for LL which may ensure that this chosen film will lose. “Indian women are a strange mixture of submission and dominance,” says the citation authoritatively as though the jury had stumbled upon some unique and alien species called “Indian women,” after viewing LL. Obviously, till this film was made, the jury had no idea that Indian women could be both submissive and aggressive. They had probably always believed that Indian women could be either one or the other. Not even passive-aggressive or aggressive-passive. Just One. Or the other. Never, ever, a mix. Unheard of.
Strange. For sure.
And, apparently, it is this unique quality about Indian women revealed in this film that makes it Oscar-worthy. “Well-defined, powerful characters in one world, Laapataa Ladies (Hindi) captures this diversity perfectly, though in a semi-idyllic world and in a tongue-in-cheek way.”
The diversity here is not that the women are from different communities, castes or cultures — or even LGBTQIA+ — but that they are both aggressive and passive — and so, they are diverse. And how is the world of LL even remotely “semi-idyllic”? Unless you think that women who live in a world where they are abused is semi-idyllic because it is idyllic when they are not being abused. And “tongue in cheek”? That completely wrecks any notion of authenticity.
The next line is even more banal: “It shows you that women can happily desire to be home makers as well as rebel and be entrepreneurially inclined.” So the jury accepts that women have choices, because — surprise! — this film reveals that too! Seventy-seven years after Independence, the world gets a wake-up call, and realises that Indian women can multitask, or have multiple identities, all through LL.
But why does one have to “rebel” in order to be “entrepreneurially inclined”? And do it all “happily”? Really? Do women need to do all this happily or have I lost the plot?
“A story that can simultaneously be seen as one that needs change, and one that can bring about change. Laapataa Ladies (Hindi) is a film that can engage, entertain and make sense not just to women in India but universally as well…”
All these mindless little sentences in the citation makes one realise that the jury was struggling to find one really outstanding thing to say about the film. Why does it have to make sense to women in India and not the men?
So the real question is: If the jury saw it as such a mundane film, with nothing new or revolutionary to say in either the way it is scripted or shot, why bother to send it?
To be officially nominated for the Oscar is something every filmmaker dreams about. And to do so with her second directorial attempt is to Kiran Rao’s enormous credit. I do want to add that given the struggle that women face, and the glass ceilings they have to break, to direct a film itself is a huge step forward. Thus, is the citation a recognition for Rao’s film or is it just damning with faint praise because we have to send a “nice” film to the Oscars? A “happy” little film made by an Indian woman starring other Indian women who outwit the misogynistic bad guys at the end?
Because definitely, all these well meaning messages are in Rao’s film: Young girls in rural India need to look beyond marriage and take up organic farming, instead. They need to be financially independent. They need not despair when abandoned at railway stations as other marginalised individuals will be there to help them. They should resist wearing ghoonghats, etc. The problem is, that in the hands of a master filmmaker like Hrishikesh Mukherjee, all the messages would have rolled out, subtly, wittily and even yes, humorously. Not so with Rao, whose heart is obviously in the right place and her intentions are noble — but each message hammers you on the head, till you acknowledge its presence.
It is also not clear how much this film represents India or the changes that have taken place in filmmaking. It is a sweet, but dull film — with tropes that are so familiar that many like me have practically grown up watching them on Doordarshan and on other “do good” (not necessarily “feel good”) platforms. But where is the edginess, the anger, the angst, the restlessness, the cleverness, the excitement, that you can always sense in a film that deserves to win every award? That is totally laapataa.
We are all content with Rao’s film, and pleased with its success. But as a “laapataa lady” myself (at a metaphorical level), I do not understand the bland citation. Having been on juries, I know that sometimes it is not the best candidate but the “compromise” one that wins. For example, Aattam is a film that deserves to be sent to the Oscars. Fabulously shot and with an amazing cast, it was not chosen; neither was another celebrated woman-led film, Payal Kapadia’s All We Imagine As Light.
But, could it be that for the official entry, we often confuse our Indian identity with what we want the world to see about us at the Oscars? Shouldn’t we just be hungry for the award? The world has changed and we should showcase the best of Indian cinema abroad — no matter how difficult the subject, and how much it challenges our own perceptions of our country. Playing it safe with a woman-led film about gender justice will not ensure glory, as the award will go to the best product, not the best intention.
If the jury really wants the film to do well, can Rao at least ask them for a rewrite of the patriarchal citation? Or, forgive me, was it just happily “tongue-in-cheek”?
Desai is an author, playwright and the chair of two museums. Her biography on Devika Rani, The Longest Kiss, won the National Award for best writing on Indian cinema
