No sex, no happy ending for a normal girl in Bollywood still
Happy Ending, currently running in theatres, is a film that gives no inkling of its tackling of misogyny, and not least because you are not expecting a Bollywood mainstream romcom with a star cast to come with a caustic name.
So perhaps Happy Ending is boy-bait - salivating young men going in, expecting a playboy bunny and Thai massage world all rolled into one big item number, ensemble cast heap, of over three hours.
Instead, audiences find, Saif Ali Khan and Ranvir Shorey pull off, reel by reel, in a deceptively light manner, a send up of the slobbish, male chauvinist, bicep flexing, commitment phobic male that is the dominant archetype of urban cultures today.
The film is a painstakingly constructed lib world of new age authors selling speedily written books, where budding chicklit writer Aanchal Reddy (the extra "a" a nod to Shobhaa De?) is paired with the ageing one book wonder Yudi Jaitley, and holds her own. Ranbir is the henpecked husband, the foil to Saif's carefree but empty life. The treatment is consistent: "men are dogs, women are non-dogs" Saif's alter ego says, and this is the tone the film takes, making it more pro women than pro men. Aanchal, played by Ileana D'Cruz, is not objectified, she is drawn up as a flesh and blood person, a rounded character without rough edges, not just an accessory to Saif, but his equal or sometimes better. While there have been films in this genre before - Hum Tum, Love Aaj Kal, Salaam Namaste - this film is far better written, and the comedy is much sharper.
The average response to the film even in multiplexes - even with its star cast including a brilliant role by Govinda, slick production, song and dance sequences and foreign locales and its hardsell as a romcom - is not a surprise.
This is a relationship film that is ahead of its time, and it makes its point so sharply - men are slobs at core, and selfish chasers of the good time, while women are victims of misogyny who close their hearts (like Aanchal) or become psychotic stalkers like Kalki Koechin (she puts an app on Saif's phone and hers called "no space" whereby she tracks his movements) or a hapless housewife driven to tyranny at home (Shorey's wife) - through most of the film that its the anti-misogyny, anti-male chauvinist tone that may have put off audiences and didn't get word of mouth publicity. The audiences simply aren't ready for this sort of caustic romcom that might make too many people, men and women, uncomfortable about their own lives.
Which is why it's a surprise to see the film fail in the sex scenes.
The romantic climax is a long drawn out bedroom scene when the hero and heroine, friends after some initial professional rivalry, have to share a hotel room on a trip out of town.
They make a big fuss about who will sleep on the bed and who gets the sofa. Then they fight over the side of bed, then make a convoluted arrangement where they sleep on opposite ends - feet facing the other's face.
You'd think this embarrassing "foreplay" would be enough and they'd get to the point and get on with it. But no. Some more cringe making moments ensue - with the heroine calling the hero's feet stinky, and him finally daring to make a cheesy pass at her by leaning over to her side to ask (point black and eww): "kiss karein?" At which she promptly kicks him out of the bed in outrage. Only to - more cringe - change her mind and whisper "haan" into the darkness just when the guy's given up.
No, no, no. It doesn't end there. They try to kiss, then they don't. Then they switch on the lights. They try some more. Then they stop again - and the heroine asks "music?"
By jo, people. Are we talking about a carnal, instinctive lust act here or is it joint study for the board exams? If two heterosexual people are attracted to each other, does it take all this effort and drama and props for them to be taking their clothes off upon accepting the attraction?
The vamps were good at sexuality in the old Hindi film days of the 70s, the 80s saw the embarrassing era of butteries and buds serving as euphemism for desire. After some gross attempts in the early 90s, like Karisma Kapoor with sarkaye lyo khatia, 2000s saw the heroine and vamp merge with the raw sexuality in films of the multiplex era.
But Happy Ending is evidence that "good" girls, non sexualised career women, the girl next door, and sex still have a problem - it's as if mainstream Bollywood is still having a hard time believing a normal, good girl can't be spontaneous in bed, like, well, a normal good girl.