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Journalism of Courage
Govinda cant make us laugh anymore
Some Bollywood memories are best kept firmly recessed. But theres one that surfaced the moment I sat down to the latest Govinda flick,and watched his pearly whites flash at me. There cannot be anything more explicatory than the name,Naughty 40. True to its title,the leading man goes after everything in skirts the first part of the film is set in London,see,and then,after the move to India,salwars. Yes,its that kind of a film. Helping him along in his quest to conquer virgin-hood,are three randy guys,all ready to drop their pants here,there,everywhere.
This Govinda,a sad shadow of the supreme entertainer that he used to be,made me flash back to an encounter at a time when he was at the top of his game,a bigger draw than the Big B,in a flashy David Dhawan caper Bade Miyan Chote Miyan. This was also the time when the electronic media had begun flexing its new-found muscles at press meets,greeting visiting stars with a phalanx of cameras,far more attractive than us print people,who could only brandish notebooks.
The five-star conference room was full to bursting as Amitabh and Govinda strode in: Bade Miyaan to the fore,Chote Miyaan strolling along,just a step behind. But the power shift was soon evident. It was Govinda who was setting the pace,the jokey tone; Amitabh was following his lead. It was subtle,but it was evident: in Dhawans duniya,where mad-capness is all,Govinda was the agenda-setting star; everyone else was going to have to keep up.
When there looked to be no let-up from the TV types,I found myself calling attention to our little band across the floor. Without missing a beat,Govindaji and Amitabhji wheeled across : chaliye bhaiyaa,thodi si baat in logon se bhi ho jaaye. With that we got them to ourselves for a short interlude,and there ensued the kind of easy banter that is the gift of the very fleetest of foot: the duo disarmed us,and we could feel our disgruntlement seep away. And in that brief time,as they matched steps and wits,you could see the difference between the two. Both bade and chhotey miyaan were in top form,both past masters at drollery,both with the ability to make us laugh the hardest thing in the world. But it was evident that Govinda was a man of the people in a way that Amitabh used to be,when he was at the top of his game.
I suspect that this is the only way Govinda knows how to be,and that really was the secret of his phenomenal success when he burst upon a film industry just waiting for someone like him. In the mid-80s,Hindi cinema was full of leading men who had made the journey from the increasingly unattainable Malabar Hill to the easier accessed Pali Hill,which rapidly became the new starry outpost. Govinda brought the far-flung unknown Virar,and its untrammeled whiff of suburbia,into the cloistered world of Bollywood.
This was a man who turned his discomfort of angrez-ified sophistication into his ultimate weapon: he was who he was,and he didnt care who knew it. It was one of those time and place things that the super-successful attribute their luck to. Govinda found an instant connect with an increasingly confident young India which had no compunction in using English exactly as it pleased. Such slogans as Yeh Dil Maange More became the emblem of desi cool,and Govinda its posterboy. He was hot,and he trotted,all the way through the 90s,with good pal and compatriot David Dhawan,with whom hes made about 20 films. Through it all,he danced,danced,danced: there was never a Govinda film without a chart-busting number,where his leading ladies Neelam,Karisma,Raveena no slouches in the dancing department,were relegated to the rear.
About the only time I didnt spend cringing in Naughty 40,was when Govinda got tripping. He still has the moves. But movies? I dont know.
shubhra.gupta expressindia.com
