It’s been thirty years since the crossing, or technically, uncrossing of legs on screen scandalized the world, yet, the provocative scene from the movie Basic Instinct continues to be a frame of reference to mark seductive female behaviour. British Opposition leader Angela Rayner called out “sexism and misogyny” in political reporting after a newspaper article quoting her male rivals suggested that she moved her legs the way Sharon Stone did in the hit thriller, to distract Boris Johnson. The UK Prime Minister denounced the newspaper and tweeted in support of Rayner, “I deplore the misogyny directed at her anonymously today”.
Considering the vast numbers of men of stature who were diminished by #MeToo in 2017, one would imagine it would be too frightening for the high profile to indulge in bawdy sniggering about hemlines. The positive fallout of the #MeToo movement has been important corrections to language, and debates on what is deemed appropriate for public discourse. “Leg man” is the cringeworthy (and thankfully, redundant) term used to describe a male whose primary interest centres on womens’ legs. It’s gone out of circulation, as has “ass man”, “locker room talk” and “boys will be boys”. There is an unspoken consensus that any human being invoking these outdated terms deserves to be put in the dock for tardiness, alone. In today’s world, a character on a sitcom could not be reduced to a specific body part like “Hot Lips Houlihan” from the beloved show M*A*S*H. Yet, it seems to be impossible to keep female limbs, covered or bare, out of conversations, political and otherwise.
The mini-skirt has been visible onscreen in Hindi films since the 1960s. One of the first and most memorable images is of Dimple Kapadia wearing a polka dotted top with a short, black skirt in Bobby —perhaps the first “good girl” to flash ample leg in a movie (thereby, rescuing the mini from being the sole preserve of “fast” vamps). Skirts, shorts and bikinis are everywhere in popular culture, but over the years I have witnessed heated arguments between friends and teenage daughters on why they will attract the wrong kind of attention, by wearing a mini to a mall in Delhi. The fact is the liberal attitudes within their homes are in sharp contrast with the reality of India outside, so whether girls may display limbs, exactly how much and where, remains a fraught topic in every household. Urban youth rightly feel entitled to self-expression via clothing, however explicit; parents worry about safety and judgment.
As every woman will attest, it’s unpleasant being ogled at or commented on. There are good reasons why powerful parliamentarians stick to sarees and salwar kameezes even in the dead of winter, when they would be much more comfortable in pants and a jacket. They know if they don’t, they will have to endure insufferable remarks from all and sundry; barbs and ridicule on Twitter is a form of abuse too. More aggravatingly, the dialogue shifts from what they are doing, to what they are wearing. One has to pick one’s battles when the morality police are thriving.
For example, just last year the then Uttarakhand chief minister was forced into an apology after questioning the values of a successful professional, a mother of two, for wearing jeans with rips and gaping holes. The discordance between her attire and self had been too much to bear, so of course, the CM felt compelled to critique her appearance. The world finds it impossible to separate sexuality from women’s clothing, as if the sole purpose of female sartorial choices is to seduce the crowd. It makes one wonder, if the pent-up rage of Basic Instinct’s ice-pick wielding protagonist stems from the truth, that some things never change.
The writer is director, Hutkay Films
