Tomorrow never came

Everybody probably has their favourite Kal Ho Na Ho (KHNH) moment but for me, the best thing about this sob story was when Kantabehn walks into the bedroom and sees Shah Rukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan lying in bed together. Here was a truly wicked moment; a nudge-nudge wink-wink teaser about KHNH producer Karan Johar’s _ and, often, Shah Rukh’s _ alleged sexual orientation. And a nod to the audience’s ability to see a gay-themed film without blanching like Kantabehn. Maybe Johar was finally discovering that cinematic quality he has banished from his pastel-coloured universe: subversion. Maybe this was the real love story: a love triangle between two men and a woman! Maybe, maybe. But that moment dissolved into tears, and KHNH lapsed into familiar Joharisms of sacrifice, loyalty, pop patriotism, friendship and notions of love. Poor Kantabehn, how wrong she indeed was.

Rakesh Roshan’s Koi Mil Gaya, starring Hrithik Roshan and Preity Zinta, may have been 2003’s biggest monetary hit but it’s Karan Johar, and not Roshan, who has been the toast of the year, who beat Roshan in the year-end interview department. Johar has proved all those critics wrong who thought his formula would get jaded; his pastel-coloured dream would fade. He has proved the longevity of Shah Rukh Khan at the box office by borrowing a trick from his rival in the business _ whom he routinely lampoons during KHNH _ Sanjay Leela Bhansali: kill Shah Rukh Khan before The End and watch them howl. Devdas, Aman, both die and the gasps of grief only get louder; the ticket sales only get bigger.

But is this really the best of Bollywood for the year that was, the cream and the toast and the icing? There is so much that is so conservative about this ‘youthful new look’ film. Sure, it’s a bright idea to stop trying to recreate Manhattan in Mumbai and actually move location to the Big Apple, and nobody was expecting an ABCD film, but why does pretty woman Preity have to take off her dandy designer spectacles? Why does she, yawn, have to take off her jacket and wiggle her waistline to be seen as an object of desire? Why can’t she make up her own mind and follow her own heartbeat about whom she truly loves? Why does everybody who’s slightly nuanced _ and more interesting _ have to be caricatured? The lascivious Lilette Dubey, her fat frumpy sister Sweetie, the Mumbai don bhai character? In Johar’s world of beautiful people, every creased line has to be straightened out, every zit zapped. And after all that homoerotic pillow talk, there’s a stereotypical gay set designer character later in the film, just in case you thought Johar was making, God forbid, some political statement. That’s something the likes of which the ‘younger’, bolder, generation won’t be caught making. They’re too busy with their hands on the tears till, waiting to catch every last drop, every last rupee and dollar.

In fact, for a man whose formula seems almost foolproof, Johar displays a surprising streak of professional envy and churlishness in KHNH. Examples: the dig about Aamir Khan’s Dil Chahta Hai haircut, about the Chale Chalo song from Aamir’s Lagaan, about Bhansali-style dandiya music. And what’s with all those digs about Gujaratis? Punjabis are the proprietors of non-resident Indian cool, Gujaratis (read Bhansali) can only try, he seems to suggest in the sequences leading up to the engagement ceremony. In fact, if there’s any director who is direct competition to Johar’s claim on melodrama, it’s Bhansali, whose filmmaking style in Devdas was resoundingly endorsed by audiences. If there are two directors who need a hanky advisory today, it’s Bhansali and Johar.

Hopefully, this is Johar having just phun _ kya pata, kal ho na ho? _ and the next film won’t be looking over its Manish Malhotra-clad shoulder. In any case, this is just a diatribe against a formula that’s working so well. Joharisms rule, the other cinematic son Yash Chopra never had has his finger on the pulse, he’s squeezing hard and who’s complaining except for a few uncool behenji types? Like Kantabehn?