Split screen

Television

Split screen

It’s all in the family

The gharelu dramas seem to be swamping the small screen. The 24-inch space is becoming increasingly inadequate to accommodate the Kalpataru-sized cast. But makers of serials with domestic titles such as Mehndi Tere Naam Ki, Kanyaadan, Koshish and Ghar Ek Mandir are laughing all the way to the bank, though not Swiss as yet.

Judging by the number of ads that precede and accompany these serials, it looks like Kalpataru’s Ghar formula has made a grand comeback on television. Instead of corporate sharks sniping at each other at the slightest pretext (Anang Desai still specialises in such roles) we have Alok Nath and other domesticated faces imparting a social security on a highly insecure medium.

The latest domestic drama on television is Thodi si Bewafaai, no relation to Eshmayeel Shroff’s well-known film of the 70s, but related via satellite to Krishna Shah’s Shalimar. The number Hum bewafaa from Shah’s film is used as the signature tune to tell the story of a childless couple who’s pressurised into producing a progeny pronto.

Familiar family territory made all the more pedestrian by Rajesh Ranasinghe’s conventional treatment of the characters: father Alok Nath playing chess with his pal and business associate S.M.Zaheer, mother Beena pottering in the kitchen, kid sister giggling all over the place. Beta Sooraj Thapar is scolded by mumsie. "Bring bahu home". Papa Alok Nath is worried about a khandaan ka chiragh. "Bring a bachcha home". The producers are probably worried about the ratings. "Bring the TRPs home," they must have been commanded.

At this rate, the streets are soon going to wear a deserted look. Hopefully everyone will be heading home to see how the crowded maha-barrack has progressed in its celebration of the joys and sorrows of the Hindu joint family. While the theme of childlessness in Thodisi Bewafaai is a fairly important social issue, it was handled with far more delicacy intimacy and directness by Ravi Rai in Janam. In fact Rai condensed various social issues such as illegitimacy, childlessness, saas-bahu conflicts and adultery into a number of well-threaded sub-plots each represented by one female protagonist. Sadly, Janam, which is a far superior soap than Ravi Rai’s Sparsh has been taken off primetime. Perhaps Rai should re-title the serial Janam Janam Ka Saath. More in keeping with what audiences expect these days.

Delicacy seems to be rapidly going out of style on Indian television. Sledgehammer comments plaster the screen at prime time. Koshish, which is going great guns seems to be indulging in juvenile suspense to sustain viewers’ attentions. In last week’s episode, Kajal’s mother, lately in the hospital with a heart problem, showed up at her sasural unannounced. How did the scriptwriters handle this latest crisis in the household? Simple! They put Kajal’s mentally challenged husband (whom her mother doesn’t know to be mentally challenged) in a birthday mask. "Today is my birthday. Aren’t you going to wish me ‘Happy Birthday’?" incognito son-in-law asked unrecognising ma-in-law while the rest of the cast held its breath.

Suspense Hour meets Koshish, eh? Strange combinations and permutations are being tried at primetime. Anything for a few steps in the right direction. But what’s the right direction? Doordarshan doesn’t seem to have a clue. Their multi-star soap Abhimaan is too eager to please, their suspense hour Suraag is wedded to sleaze and their new romantic soap Ishq shall be gone before we sneeze.

Quite surprisingly, Ishq stars Om Puri. We had heard about his spectacular television appearance in Star Plus’ Antaraal. But did anyone know he was doing another serial for Doordarshan? No? Guess what that says about national television’s marketing talents? In mood, if not in purpose, Om Puri’s character in Ishq seems similar to the one he plays in Antaraal. A suave middle-aged man Kailashnath, who charms the "pangs" off Amrita with his poetry and philosophy of life.

"When you talk I forget everything else," she confessed as the two strolled through the hills and valleys to the sound of Jagjit Singh’s music. The cameraman seemed to have scant interest in the protagonists. The lenses lazily loitered all over the scenic hilltop leaving us thoroughly disinterested in the principal relationship.

Zee News’ Prime Time segment posed an important question last week: what ails the Indian film industry? Everything from high entertainment taxes to low calibre products was blamed. But the discussion lacked focus. From Prabhu Deva to Yukta Mookhey, everyone was asked an opinion. Khushboo said it’s a myth that when a heroine doesn’t make it in Mumbai she can make it in the South. So how did she explain her own phenomenal success in the South? Oh, that was because she came in at a time when native heroines were quitting the scene. In the same breath Khushboo also said Manisha and Tabu were appreciated as actresses only after they acted in the South. Tabu in Kala Paani and Manisha Koirala in Bombay.

Excuse me lady, but Tabu was appreciated long before Kala Paani in Mumbai’s Maachis and Manisha in 1942: A Love Story. More contradictions? We got them in Prabhu Deva’s interview where he was repeatedly asked why he failed to make it in Hindi films even though the reticent rhythmist reiterated that he had done no Hindi films except the dance in Pukar.

The discussion on the Indian cinema lacked focus and depth. It seemed to meander from state to state, yanking anyone who cared to offer an opinion into the studio to fire away.

And wasn’t it rather pompous of scriptwriter Anurag Kashyap to declare on Star News’ Limelight that before him scripts for films were written on the sets? Wasn’t he insulting Salim-Javed, Anjum Rajabali, and others of the writing ilk? Ironically, Javed Akhtar paid rich compliments to Kashyap in the same segment.

Generosity of spirit is hard to come by on television where everyone wants his or her five minutes of fame at any cost.

Subhash K Jha