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On the Loose: Kiss another day
The producers meekly agreed since the film retains its U/A rating this way. It reaches a wider audience and ultimately makes more money, not exactly an unfair trade-off.

The duration of the kissing scenes in the new Bond film, Spectre, have been cut by 50 per cent since the Indian Censor Board deemed them “excessive”, and unnecessary. The producers meekly agreed since the film retains its U/A rating this way. It reaches a wider audience and ultimately makes more money, not exactly an unfair trade-off.
It’s not just the Censor Board that objects to kissing. There is a national prudishness in India when it comes to any kind of public display of affection. Recently, a friend of mine posted a picture of her parents who were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. They were sitting as far apart as you could possibly get, on two ends of the image, smiling, ostensibly thrilled, but nowhere near touching. Nowadays, sometimes one spots young people holding hands in public.
I suspect this is restricted to metros. Even on Facebook, that formidable arbiter of all trends concerning the young, Indians are notoriously reticent about declaring their relationship status, if unmarried. It stems less from a disinclination to overshare and more from superstition, or because it’s simply not done. So the Censor Board has no qualms reducing Bond to a brutally abrupt and hasty kisser because puritanism is deeply ingrained in our collective psyche, and very hard to shake off.
There would be reason to cheer this revulsion to saccharine if we didn’t make the cheesiest, over-the-top
melodramatic films, full of lovelorn heartbreak and misty-eyed romances. The visuals seldom match the
passionate dialogues. Consider these beautiful lyrics from Fanaa: Tere dil mein meri saanson ko panah mil jaye, tere ishq mein meri jaan fanaa ho jai. The characters look strained and distressed in the rain when they should have been kissing madly and much longer than Bond, to do justice to such ardent and consuming lines.
Till recently, Indian cinema relied on a series of bizarre metaphors to indicate intimacy and virility on screen. Two roses clashing together. Cut to red satin, fade to huey pink. Hail, snow, mist, fog have all been duly used to showcase fiery feelings. While no one’s expecting a pornographic smorgasbord, some sort of real intensity makes cinema so much more powerful.
It’s interesting to note that the Censor Board acted on Bond’s smooches when the scenes of frenzy in this bankable franchise are at an all-time low. Ian Fleming’s protagonist is no longer portrayed as the suave lady killer grabbing a damsel’s wrists and ruthlessly using a temptress to further his own agenda. In keeping with the times, 007 is less about seduction and conquests. The women no longer have names dripping with innuendo like Undress and
Miss Frost.
The audience has accepted a frail and flawed Bond, given to an occasional emotional outburst. In an age of terrorism, heroism has to be nuanced. Everyone’s given up on a superhero changing the world. But the clever repartee with an enchantress and something more than a dull, chaste kiss—that much should be allowed to remain.
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