Body double

Chennai Chastity is no damsel in distress. In Tamil cinema, CC is coddled, cosseted, loved, adored, flattered and spoilt rotten by her conce...

Chennai Chastity is no damsel in distress. In Tamil cinema, CC is coddled, cosseted, loved, adored, flattered and spoilt rotten by her conceited, virile Hero. If CC strays, or gambols too far, she is at once admonished, scolded, and cajoled to return to her virtuous ways. In the multiplex climax, there are embedded morals, not bedded virgins.

The messages are rampant8212;in Padayappa one of the biggest Rajnikant grossers, the Superstar repeats his punch-line to rub the message in. 8220;Athigama asaipadara ambilaiyum, athigama kovapadara pombalayum, urupattatha saritharamey illai a man who desires too much, and a woman who is too demanding, have never prospered. The recent Tamil blockbuster, Sivaakassi, starring the young and popular hero, Vijay8212;the present-day Rajnikanth8212;shows him ticking off his semi-clad heroine, after saving her from the roving hands of her molester: 8220;Waat is this? It is nothing but a bra-a! Go and wear some clothes.8221;

The front-benchers roar in appreciation, the maamis cluck with approval. The heroine, Asin, has learnt her lesson8212;in the rest of the movie, she is only seen wearing a salwar-kameez or the traditional half-sari. The audience is even more appreciative.

But Chennai Coquette has already had her run on the screen8212;lurid in lycra, slithering in silk8212; before she is corseted coyly in the second half. She is put through the whole Tamil Tease routine8212;from the wet sari sequence to bosom-heavy Ts; metallic bustiers to high-rise skirts. And every grimace or laugh is a personal triumph for the Hero. The front-benchers are thrilled, the maamis, simply prim.

So, what was the fuss about Chennai8217;s Sashas in the Park8217;s Pasha? In the Pasha pastiche, it was not distressed jeans, but threatened genes, that sent shivers of fear in the dreaded nights. In the schizoid, disoriented, world of cinema, moral posturing reigned and always triumphed. For the Ammas and Appas here, the people spoke a familiar language, looked and felt familiar, and were rooted in tradition and style. Everyone sought, and found, respectability.

But the scent at the lounge bars and nightclubs was different and unfamiliar8212;there were no kitschy accessories, no phoney morals. The Sashas were sassy, the He-Boys, horny. They spoke in strange accents, dressed like aliens, and refused to reason. There was no celluloid comfort in real life8212; of macho heroes beating back willful lasses to submission and consent. Now, there was a whiff of rebelliousness. The strings were loosening.