The fading mirror – The Hindu

Art serves as a vibrant mirror to society, capturing the essence of human existence across time. It’s a living document, meticulously detailing everything from our behaviours — the good, the bad, and the mundane — to our fashion choices, culinary customs, social interactions, and the intricate tapestry of family values and relationships, including the preservation and evolution of our cultural heritage and the challenges of social and domestic life.

This profound connection between art and society should ideally be reflected in all its forms, especially in a popular and influential medium such as cinema. Indeed, there is a timeless adage that perfectly encapsulates this relationship: “Show me a movie, and I will tell you what kind of society it is.” It speaks to the profound power of cinema not just as entertainment but as a cultural barometer, reflecting the values, struggles, and aspirations of its creators and audience.

Only fantasy

Yet, it’s disheartening to witness a significant disconnect in contemporary Indian cinema. Over 90% of our films, in their relentless pursuit of the “1,000-crore club”, have veered sharply into the realm of fantasy. This trend is not confined to Bollywood; even South Indian filmmakers, driven by similar ambitions, are increasingly crafting “pan-India” blockbusters that, ironically, lose touch with their roots and neglect to tell the compelling stories of real society. While rare regional gems occasionally break through, the prevailing narrative glorifies larger-than-life heroes and often stereotypes heroines. Our screens are flooded with protagonists performing gravity-defying stunts.

This raises a crucial question: What will future generations truly glean from such portrayals? Will they believe their ancestors were all superheroes, performing incredible feats and perpetually dancing in shimmering costumes? This only offers a distorted lens for future generations. If their understanding of the past is dominated by characters who defy gravity and solve all problems with superhuman strength, they might find it incredibly difficult to relate to the actual challenges, resilience, and ingenuity of people throughout history. Real historical figures, with their inherent flaws and remarkable triumphs, might seem less compelling by comparison. Given that cinema profoundly reflects and shapes culture, if future generations are only exposed to a narrow, exaggerated version of their cultural past, they risk missing the rich nuances, complexities, and diverse experiences that truly define their heritage.

This trend of unrealistic portrayals carries another significant downside: the example these star heroes set for their followers. It’s a well-known fact, especially in many South Indian States, that the line between “reel” and “real” often blurs. These matinee idols are more than just actors; they become an integral part of their fans’ lives.

One frequently sees autorickshaws and taxis proudly displaying images of these stars. But what kind of images are these? Far too often, they depict the hero wielding a blood-stained dagger, promoting a disturbing aesthetic of violence. This constant exposure to their heroes engaging in such acts undoubtedly etches itself into the memory of their devoted fans, potentially normalising or even glorifying aggression. The fans might develop an unrealistic expectation of what “heroism” or “success” looks like, viewing everyday struggles and achievements as less significant than the grand, impossible feats of their heroes. We have been witnessing such incidents of fans indulging in such acts imitating their heroes. This is not a call to abandon fantasy or superhero narratives altogether. However, there is an urgent need for balance. Film connoisseurs implore filmmakers to dedicate at least a portion of their craft to creating realistic movies that genuinely reflect society and bravely tackle the complexities of real-world problems.

There is a common, yet often misguided, opinion circulating in the film industry: that audiences like such movies, thus justifying their prevalent production. However, this is just a convenient way to shift blame onto the audience, masks an inherent inability or lack of commitment to compelling storytelling from the filmmakers themselves.

Consider it a powerful, but unproductive, drug. When filmmakers consistently offer up such movies, audiences become engrossed in them. Yet, this doesn’t imply an inability to appreciate depth. If creators were to instead hone their storytelling skills and craft narratives that reflect society, delve into real experiences, audiences would embrace them with equal, if not greater, enthusiasm.

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