Whose life is it anyway?

Given the excitement around Mary Kom, one wonders about the liberties taken in biopics.

September 13, 2014 05:28 pm | Updated 05:28 pm IST

A still from 'Mary Kom'.

A still from 'Mary Kom'.

Let me say this at the outset: Mary Kom ’s sincerity cannot be in doubt. A film riding on a woman or a heroine is not the safest box-office bet in India. Make her a sportswoman and it gets even riskier. Add big star fees and it’s unlikely a producer or director would invest the kind of time and money it takes to make such a film if the starting point weren’t a deep belief. Full points for intent and sincerity, then, to producer Sanjay Leela Bhansali and director Omung Kumar, whose idea this film was.

However, an overdose of sincerity can get dangerous — and it does in this sports biopic. Because Mary Kom’s real-life story is magnificently inspiring. Each one of the barriers she has had to face — an impoverished background, growing up in a village in the Northeast, being a woman in Indian sport, fighting the social conditioning against a woman in boxing — would make for great stories on their own. Add them up and you have a tale of extraordinary grit and talent, one that needs no emotional manipulation or glorification. But of course, it’s all there; this is Bollywood.

Biopics are not a genre that the Hindi film industry does best or even much of. After the resounding commercial success of Chak De India , The Dirty Picture and Bhaag Milkha Bhaag and the artistic applause for Shahid , however, biopics are now business. Traditionally, Bollywood has liked to pick ‘inspiring’ stories. India is a land of holy men, holy cows and holier-than-all icons. Gandhi or Tendulkar, Bachchan or Mangeshkar… we want them to remain wholly, permanently and impossibly admirable. How could our biopics, then, be any different?

To be fair, Mary Kom does paint in a few shades of grey in the boxer’s life. Not in as nuanced a manner that Paan Singh Tomar did but, well, the latter’s storyline made that easier. Even Shahid , admirable as it was, did not perhaps explore Shahid Azmi’s stint in the terrorist training camp as fully as it could have. Why are we this worshipful?

That’s an unfair view, argues Shyam Benegal, filmmaker in the classical mould and director of biopics like Bhumika , Zubeidaa and Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose: The Forgotten Hero . “When you’re making an autobiographical film, what is the motivation? You’re making it because you find the person interesting. So your view is bound to be coloured. And if the person’s life has had a huge beneficial impact on the world, you’re going to take sides whether you like it or not.” Of his own biopic on Subhas Chandra Bose, he says, “I saw him as quite an extraordinary figure but he did have his political weaknesses and he made some enormous strategic mistakes. Still, I was criticised and people said the film was hagiographic.”

Usually the other big dilemma is big star or great actor? In an ideal world or the festival circuit, one wouldn’t need to ask that question, but we’re talking about films made by mainstream Bollywood directors here. What Seema Biswas, Rajkumar Rao and Irrfan Khan brought to Bandit Queen , Shahid and Paan Singh Tomar is immeasurable and incontrovertible.

But don’t knock the stars off yet. Let’s face it, Priyanka Chopra’s star status has given Mary Kom — and the boxer herself — a wider audience. Consider how a film as outstanding as Paan Singh Tomar had to struggle for a commercial release and you can make your peace, however reluctantly, with the star decision. And certainly you couldn’t dismiss Farhan Akhtar’s performance in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag or Vidya Balan’s in The Dirty Picture .

Mary Kom had an additional problem: ethnicity. Director Omung Kumar and producer Sanjay Leela Bhansali have been roundly accused of glamming up the film by casting Chopra instead of an actor from the Northeast. Which raises the question: How many liberties can we allow in a biopic? Can we overlook the small stuff if the bigger picture passes muster?

Yes, says Mir Ranjan Negi, whose fall and redemption was the base for Shah Rukh Khan’s hockey coach in Chak De India . Negi says he has no problems with the onscreen coach being made a Muslim, Kabir Khan. Or with the scene in which a female hockey player tries to seduce him, even though he says nothing like that ever happened. “That’s their way of telling the story. I was cool with it. Just as Milkha Singh was cool with the scenes showing him with an Australian woman in Bhaag Milkha Bhaag ,” he says. What Negi was more concerned about was getting the hockey scenes right; he says he made the actors train hard for five months.

“If the broad brushstrokes are okay and you’re true to the spirit of the person, you can tweak the detailing. Because the audience will always recognise a film’s honesty,” believes Benegal.

“You could make an entirely accurate film but if it’s not acceptable to the audience, what use is it? You have to find that golden mean, which is artistically satisfying and has honesty and transparency.”

When people pay money to see a film, he argues, you have to hold them for those few hours and the director is entitled to a few cinematic liberties in dramatising the story and making the viewer identify with the protagonist at some level.

A point that Negi echoes. “They are sinking crores into the film; they have to think of the box-office, too. Most sports heroes come from a humble background and have to fight for everything they get. People relate to such heroes or heroines, they see a Milkha Sigh or Mary Kom in themselves. That’s why they’re so inspiring.” As Benegal puts it, “If a film or play leaves you enveloped in optimism and makes you feel better about the world, it has done its job. That is the purpose of all good theatre.”

On that count, Mary Kom sure succeeds. All niggles cast aside, you’re left heartened, even inspired, by the tale of this young Indian girl who triumphed despite all that life in India could throw at her. Even more heart-warming is that her husband helps make her many victories possible. Mary Kom makes you believe there’s hope — for Indian women and men.

Our biopicks

Bandit Queen: Brutal, timeless. Shekhar Kapoor’s telling of the legend of Phoolan Devi is as gut-wrenching and relevant today as it was 20 years ago.

Paan Singh Tomar: No stagey heroics. No gloss. No emotional manipulation in this story of a runner-turned-dacoit. Just great acting and filmmaking.

The Dirty Picture: No pretensions please; this was a mainstream Bollywood film all the way. But it struck a rare balance between honesty, empathy and, yes, entertainment, in telling the troubled tale of Silk Smitha.

Shahid: Such an understated film for such an explosive story. Its quietness was its victory. As was Rajkumar Rao’s take on lawyer and human rights activist Shahid Azmi.

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag: For all its faults, it made non-cricketing sports heroes sexy and saleable. And Farhan Akhtar raised the Bollywood bar for prepping for a role.

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