On the eve of the release of Zoya Akhtar’s second film Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, I went back to her debut and the clear-sightedness with which she revealed to us, the industry she works and lives in. It was with much relish that she added, little asides to the bonfire of celluloid vanities in Luck By Chance. The self-absorption of star makers. The selfishness of stars-on-the-make. The desperation of starlets. The star daughter with zero talent. The star mother with a point to prove. Zoya was not cynical or dark or bitter, just affectionately honest as she winked and said, ‘‘If you only knew!”
Luck By Chance was a smashing debut if not in terms of box-office success than in the way, it was told to us. With no manipulation. With a certain degree of innocence and disregard for formula. And that is why, even though I want to watch Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, am dreading the product endorsement inserts, the Mountain Dew moments and am hoping against hope that it won’t be a scenic road trip without a story and with a paper-thin soul.
When I watched Luck By Chance, I was reminded of Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Guddi where body doubles bled and light men dangerously dangled from ropes. The film took us to unromantic, messy sets to show us how stars (Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan, Ashok Kumar, Dharmendra, Pran, Navin Nischal and many others in friendly cameos) muff dialogues, learn cues, play dummy pianos and get applause for lines they have not written. We learnt that today’s extras are sometimes yesterday’s stars. We saw how a young girl (Jaya Bhaduri ) infatuated with big posters learns to sift the real from the simulated.
Zoya in her debut film took us behind the scenes right at the onset, to a studio canteen where astronauts put down their helmets on a table, angels took their wings to the toilet, a police woman got her make up touched up. To studios where songs are rehearsed, feathery confetti strewn by hand from top to create dream sequences and rows of costumes cram the legendary Magan Bhai Dresswalla’s shop.
Luck By Chance was a post modern Guddi where the small town girl does not come to Mumbai to meet a star but to be one. It was about strugglers who throng auditions hoping for the big break in an inbred industry where star children and pet proteges get the best pickings. There is a hilarious take on acting academies where an acting guru (Saurabh Shukla) teaches young aspirants to pronounce “Khoobsurat Khwab” and tells our hero Vikram (Farhan Akhtar) to not be subtle because Hindi films require `projection.” The graduation ceremony has the late Mac Mohan as the Chief Guest and in a bitter sweet moment, he is asked to speak the famous line, the only line he had in Sholay, “Poore Pachas Hazaar!”
A moment which tells us just how mercurial cinema is and maybe its just luck that decides whether you will make it or not. The canvas of the film was richly nuanced with the usual suspects like the Jai Mata Di spouting Punjabi film producer (Rishi Kapoor) who milks his protege’s (Hrithik Roshan) gratitude but cries when he moves on to the Karan Johars of the industry. The producer’s wife (Juhi Chawla) promoting relatives. The small time producer (Aly Khan) with a casting couch fetish. A fading diva (Dimple Kapadia), promoting her clueless daughter ( Isha Shravani) and manipulating everyone around her till she herself is taken for a ride.
And the wannabes Sona (Konkona Sen Sharma) and Vikram (Akhtar), who bond on a battered sofa over beer and anecdotes. And laugh and cry together over promised breaks and missed chances till hard choices about life and careers tear them apart. My favourite moment in the film is when Sona is walking up to a taxi in the final scene, seemingly oblivious to Vikram who is now a star and is looking down at the world and her from a larger-than-life hoarding. She walks on because to her, he is just that. A hoarding.
The film explored many conflicts between serious and commercial cinema, theatre and Bollywood, networking and manipulation and then there were the cameos. Aamir, Abhishek, Anurag Kashyap (playing a harried writer who now filches from foreign DVDs but was perhaps a film institute product!), Rani, Dia, Kareena and Shah Rukh Khan.
The sets were a delight. Konkana’s Sona from Kanpur, lived in a small flat full of miniature birds hinting at her ambitions while the cossetted star daughter’s room was papered with roses. Even the cushions and tea cups in this charmed house were flowered!
It is the writing however that made this film extraordinary. Even something as mundane as a conversation about a contest slogan was quotable. The most satisfying punchline was however spoken by Sona when she responds to Vikram’s, “I need you so please take me back” plea. She tells him in not so many words that he is terminally selfish and says, “Issme tumhari koi galti nahin hai. Kucch log hote hi aise hain” (Its not your fault. Some people are like that). Even moments where nothing is said were vivid. Like the scene where Vikram is flattering his heroine’s mother and she runs her hand through her hair self consciously.
And because I loved Luck By Chance so much, I hope Zoya Akhtar’s second film has her signature integrity. And even if it does not have the same guileless candour, I hope it has more than just glistening eye candies smeared in tomato juice.
Reema Moudgil is the author of Perfect Eight (http://www.flipkart.com/b/books/perfect-eight-reema-moudgil-book-9380032870?affid=unboxedwri )