On the first episode of #NoFilterNeha, a podcast hosted by Neha Dhupia, Karan Johar offered a refreshingly candid take on his sexual orientation. In their initial banter, Dhupia asked Johar if he’d marry her. He declined saying there’s a “technicality, but I’ll get arrested if I tell you”. That would have sufficed, but the director of the recent hit film Ae Dil Hai Mushkil went on to say: “I believe sex is a deal-breaker; if we land up having sex, we will break this deal, because you won’t be satisfied, and I will be appalled. No Neha, you’re not my type, there are so many parts of your body that don’t interest me.”
It is hard to discern whether Johar is on a calculated crusade against the
glorification of masculinity—and the misogyny and persecution of homosexuality, it often goes hand-in-hand with—or if his films simply contain lazy characterisations unconsciously influenced by his personality. However, even Johar’s fiercest critics will find it difficult to deny that his has been the most consistent hand in allowing non-masculine, and gay characters to slowly percolate into the cinematic mainstream.
Humour is the medium
It began, perversely, with gay jokes and innuendo. The Johar produced film Kal HoNaa Ho (2003), for instance, had quite a few of these, including a homophobic maid called Kantaben as a prominent comic track. Things came to a head with Dostana (2008) where two men (Abhishek Bachchan and John Abraham) pretend to be gay for their own devious ends. Their exaggerated mannerisms, and their eventual disavowal of homosexuality, appeared to be a slight at the entire gay community, and a step backwards for progressive depictions of gay people. Student of the Year (2012) appeared to take corrective action by featuring Rishi Kapoor as a flamboyantly gay dean. This, too, backfired spectacularly as Kapoor’s character (perhaps in the service of ill-conceived comedy) featured solely in cringe-worthy scenes.
By blurring his intentions with deliberate innuendo, and by refusing to come out in open support of homosexuality, Johar—who enjoys tremendous power and support in the industry—has often been viewed as a sell-out who favours profits to social progress. It might be time to take a step back and reconsider this view.
Changing mores
India is a country where things move slowly. Society changes at a snail’s pace, taking progressive steps over generations, not years. Despite our idealism, years of entrenched patriarchy seem unlikely to be budged with just a shove, until we gnaw at its foundations and wear it away. Progress has often arrived in the form of compromise. The trade-off is simple: either slowly win over society at large, or create an idealistic clique that exists and extinguishes itself in its echo-chamber.
In this scenario, Johar has arguably brought his own style of incremental change. By slowly, but consistently pushing characters, admittedly imperfect, but with an alternate sexuality, into the mainstream, he has tried to normalise their prevalence in society. The “family movie” appears to be the perfect vehicle to slip in alternate characters, and to slowly make them acceptable. Johar has managed to make films that balding Brahminical uncles (who believe in the virtue of “manliness”), and disapproving grandmas, have been able to watch with two or three generations of their families.
In touch with the feminine
In Johar’s latest directorial outing, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, he goes further than he’s gone before. In an arguably watershed performance, Ranbir Kapoor turns in one of the most extraordinary portrayals of a leading character well in touch with his feminine side. Consider his “Babydoll” dance; his bag when he’s at the airport (significantly “female” in style); his almost “woman-like” gait at a wedding; the mehendi on his hands; his pretending to be a bride; his easy tears; his non-embrace of a macho indifference in the face of tumult. The effect is tender, often elegant, but never garish or comical. Johar’s obvious influence is strong here.
Ranbir Kapoor’s character in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil is probably Johar’s finest achievement—a leading Bollywood man portraying such an obviously feminine disposition unabashedly, without raising eyebrows, must be cause for some celebration. From Vinod Khanna to Anil Kapoor and their hairy chests; to Sanjay Dutt’s faux gangsterisms; to Salman Khan’s shirtless torso; to Hrithik Roshan’s biceps, Bollywood has been enamoured of the testosterone its leading men have been able to pump up.
There is a moment in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil when Kapoor, in a fit of mock (or perhaps genuine) shyness, hides his face behind his palms. What Johar has been able to normalise, imperfectly, in about 15 years is this moment. A young man today—straight, gay, alternate—can watch a mainstream Bollywood film by a reputed director, and come away without perverse notions of masculinity, or feel hounded by imbecilic jokes on homosexuality.
Primetime conversations
Most recently, Ranbir Kapoor found himself with Ranveer Singh on Johar’s television show, Koffee with Karan . In its fifth season, the show has taken a decidedly candid turn in its discussion of sex and scandal, perhaps to appeal to a more mature audience. Nonetheless, the show currently airs on a primetime slot on Star World India every Sunday, reaching drawing rooms far and wide. (The show can also be streamed free on Hotstar.) Johar had a surprise in store for this episode. In a curious gimmick, he brought Arjun Kapoor on the show for a brief cameo in which he was the object of Ranbir Kapoor’s and Ranveer Singh’s affections, literally.
As Johar asked increasingly lascivious yes-or-no questions, the main guests were asked to kiss Arjun Kapoor on the cheek if the answer was a yes. Both guests played the game with unabashed gusto. Singh, in fact, appeared to even kiss Arjun Kapoor on the lips a couple of times. This was perhaps Johar’s most radical attempt at attacking homophobia—and what better avenue than through a primetime television programme? To his credit, only Johar could have convinced leading men of the industry to play along to his tune. (In a different episode, Akshay Kumar does a slow waltz with Johar’s chin almost resting on his chest.) It’s difficult to imagine such scenes being streamed to a household ten years ago—leave alone imagining, say, Amitabh Bachchan and Rajesh Khanna repeatedly kissing Dharmendra on the cheeks. Johar’s show proves that drawing rooms, across India, must surely be changing.
While his most recent film, and his otherwise tepid television show, reveal a greater appetite for breaking barriers, two problems remain. First, there’s a real chance that the touchy-feely, man-on-man love demonstrated on his shows by actors such as Arjun Kapoor and Ranveer Singh is a new kind of charade—mere lip-service at the altar of TRPs. This plays out as a devious logic: oh look, I accept men who love men and I’m even willing to play along with them. The end result: easy laughs.
Second, cringe-worthy characterisations of gay men in previous Johar’s movies run the risk of being accepted into popular culture, and into drawing rooms, as acceptable portraits of gay people. Or, conversely, as the butt of easy jokes in films such as those of Madhur Bhandarkar, or those written by Milap Zhaveri. Understandably, even those who believe in Johar’s earnest intentions to slowly turn the tide are exasperated by his unwillingness to do more, or to say more.
Nuance is not dead
Luckily, for future films, he can find inspiration at home. Johar’s short film Ajeeb Dastaan Hai Yeh, one of the four in the anthology film Bombay Talkies (2013), remains his most direct exploration of homosexuality in middle-class India. The struggle of two gay men to find acceptance – one from his family; one of himself – was portrayed sensitively, and with nuance. With this film, Johar, for the first time, finally moved beyond hints, innuendo, and cringe-worthy stereotypes.
Kapoor & Sons, perhaps the finest film this year, was also produced by Johar. It featured Fawad Khan in a nuanced performance as a gay man, comfortable revealing his sexuality to his friends, who eventually finds acceptance in his family as well. The impact, and importance, of this film will certainly increase as the years pass. Especially if Johar refuses to carry the conversation forward. The slog has been slow, the woods are deep, and there’s much work left to be done. One hopes there are miles to go before Johar sleeps.
Shubhodeep Pal is a Mumbai-based freelance writer
