Mark this moment. This is the moment when Bollywood breaks free. 'Grand Masti' is unabashedly gross, vulgar, crass, shameless and fearlessly adult. But for a moment one has to step back from the noise of dissent – from the guardians of Indian culture and their histrionic fatwas – and ask yourself one simple question: Who are we to choose for others?
A group of 23 teenagers were pleading for tickets at a multiplex booth this morning. Three didn’t have IDs on them to prove they were adults. Even if they hadn’t celebrated their 18th birthday yet, the fact that they were of the same clique where twenty of them had proofs should have been taken into consideration. What is 18, but a technicality in the age of the internet?
I am not celebrating Grand Masti like I did Delhi Belly (a film I had felt at the time would usher in change in the way we think of our cinema, much to the indignation of naysayers) because it does not share a similar level of artistic merit (hence the rating). But if Delhi Belly was the pressure cooker’s first whistle, Grand Masti has blown the lid off in terms of shaking up our content. In the history of art, this has never been a bad thing.
There have been similar films in the recent past – but they weren’t nearly as clever or well thought out – and almost always were incredibly sexist. Grand Masti is too, of course, but Milap Zaveri’s writing is definitely not lazy. There’s a proper plot, characters are reasonably detailed and have their ups and downs, a comic book villain, and the relentless innuendos must’ve taken considerable time to think up.
Sure, a bunch of scenes are inspired from the treasure chest called Hollywood, but I will admit here - I guffawed at several moments and had my eyes wide at the sheer inanity of proceedings.
Sure, most of the laughter was ironic. One was laughing at the film. We know that these jokes are only funny because they’re the guilty pleasures that come via SMS and are reminiscent of our school days. It’s base, it’s private. It has always been. Suddenly you’re thrust in a theater where everyone is entertained and after a point you abandon judging them and yourself. This is what sets Grand Masti apart. Everyone is in on it. The actors know it, Indra Kumar knows it, Milap Zaveri knows it and they offer you a chance to let go. Question is, are we ready to accept that the next generation is going to grow up on this open forum where we talk and joke about sex in our movies?
The signs are upon us. In Hollywood two films – There’s Something About Mary (1998) and American Pie (1999) – paved the way for the gross comedy that is now a major genre. You remember the scenes, the ones involving hair gel and apple pie, even now. You remember because not only did they mortify the characters and us but they were also funny, and significantly – with top actors – mainstream. Adult films paradoxically targeted at the young. Bollywood’s foray into the genre, I suspect, is here to stay. Be prepared for many more Grand Mastis, just remember the choice is yours.
I am not celebrating Grand Masti like I did Delhi Belly (a film I had felt at the time would usher in change in the way we think of our cinema, much to the indignation of naysayers) because it does not share a similar level of artistic merit (hence the rating). But if Delhi Belly was the pressure cooker’s first whistle, Grand Masti has blown the lid off in terms of shaking up our content. In the history of art, this has never been a bad thing.
There have been similar films in the recent past – but they weren’t nearly as clever or well thought out – and almost always were incredibly sexist. Grand Masti is too, of course, but Milap Zaveri’s writing is definitely not lazy. There’s a proper plot, characters are reasonably detailed and have their ups and downs, a comic book villain, and the relentless innuendos must’ve taken considerable time to think up.
Sure, a bunch of scenes are inspired from the treasure chest called Hollywood, but I will admit here - I guffawed at several moments and had my eyes wide at the sheer inanity of proceedings.
Sure, most of the laughter was ironic. One was laughing at the film. We know that these jokes are only funny because they’re the guilty pleasures that come via SMS and are reminiscent of our school days. It’s base, it’s private. It has always been. Suddenly you’re thrust in a theater where everyone is entertained and after a point you abandon judging them and yourself. This is what sets Grand Masti apart. Everyone is in on it. The actors know it, Indra Kumar knows it, Milap Zaveri knows it and they offer you a chance to let go. Question is, are we ready to accept that the next generation is going to grow up on this open forum where we talk and joke about sex in our movies?
The signs are upon us. In Hollywood two films – There’s Something About Mary (1998) and American Pie (1999) – paved the way for the gross comedy that is now a major genre. You remember the scenes, the ones involving hair gel and apple pie, even now. You remember because not only did they mortify the characters and us but they were also funny, and significantly – with top actors – mainstream. Adult films paradoxically targeted at the young. Bollywood’s foray into the genre, I suspect, is here to stay. Be prepared for many more Grand Mastis, just remember the choice is yours.
