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Melodrama, mimicry, and menace:Reinventing Hollywood in Indianscience fiction filmsSuparno Banerjeea

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To cite this article: Suparno Banerjee (2014) Melodrama, mimicry, and menace: ReinventingHollywood in Indian science fiction films, South Asian Popular Culture, 12:1, 15-28, DOI:10.1080/14746689.2014.879419

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Melodrama, mimicry, and menace: Reinventing Hollywood in Indianscience fiction films

Suparno Banerjee*

English Department, Texas State University, San Marcos, USA

In the last 10 years science fiction (sf) movies have seen a perceptible increase in theIndian film industries. Although this rise in the number of sf films reflects Indiansociety’s changing concepts of science, technology and rationality in the context of thecountry’s rapid development in the industrial and scientific sectors, an undeniablecause is the influence of Hollywood blockbusters, through direct and indirectborrowing and reinventing of plots, themes, and images. These borrowings, though, aremore like extracted skeletons than proper remakes, because Bollywood cannot useHollywood’s socio-cultural values. Consequently, in sf movies the Indian viewer ispresented with a curious amalgam of Western techno-science and a traditional, oftenanti-modern, values system: a blend of Western technological imagery and Indianmelodrama. Even if an Indian film directly copies from a Hollywood movie, it alters thepurpose, effect, and associations that the original work emphasizes. Such a process ofmodification embeds these films into the discourse of cultural mimicry mentioned byHomi Bhabha – a menacing, subversive, and partial copy that mocks its own sources.

The recent spate of science fiction (sf) films coming out of the Indian movie industries has

raised some interesting questions regarding the concept of science, science fiction, and

film viewing practices of the country. Although existing in the literary form for over 150

years, sf has not found a solid footing in the world’s largest film producing country yet.

However, in the last 10 years this genre has seen a perceptible increase in the country’s

regional and national film industries. Although this rise in the number of sf films reflect

Indian society’s changing concepts of science, technology and rationality in context of the

country’s rapid development in the industrial and scientific sectors (which in a

postcolonial nation like India is often seen as another legacy of the colonial Western

presence), an undeniable cause is the influence of mainstream Hollywood block-busters:

more than 80% of the sf films in India are heavily indebted to one or more big-budget

Hollywood production. Yet, such Western influences, while crossing cultural boundaries,

go through a set of subversive transformations that make the resulting films into pop-

culture critiques of Western conventions and ideas. While such transformations are

prevalent in most films informed by Western influences, in sf these become starkly

conspicuous, because of sf’s inherent concerns with fundamental epistemological and

ontological questions that often separate Indian and Western societies.

Any attempt at discussing cultural productions from a diverse country like India

requires a certain degree of generalization. With at least four major film industries based in

different parts of the country and representing different cultural ethos, the requirement is

no less when we talk about Indian films. Such generalization definitely risks flattening out

of cultural nuances and loss of regional identities; yet in recent years under the influence of

Bollywood, or the Mumbai based Hindi film industry, all the commercial film industries in

q 2014 Taylor & Francis

*Email: sb67@txstate.edu

South Asian Popular Culture, 2014

Vol. 12, No. 1, 15–28, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14746689.2014.879419

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the country are performing such cultural erosions on their own. In a way this flattening out

of regional distinctions on movie screens is somewhat similar to the topic of this

discussion – influence of Hollywood on Indian cinema. However, that is not the focus of

this essay; suffice it to say that such loss of regional identity is taking place every day as

most film industries try to emulate Bollywood. In addition to the cultural erosion

(gradually making regional commercial films mirror images of each other), some genuine

similarities exist in mainstream Indian films in general. These similarities are based on the

shared historical, religious, and social values of the viewers, which will be discussed in

some detail later on; such values still bind a vast majority of the population of the country,

and are consequently represented on screen regardless of region or language. Thus, despite

running the risk of lumping together diverse regional approaches to cinema, it is still

possible to talk about an Indian cinema, especially when it comes to commercial

productions for mass consumption. Although to a lesser degree, any discussion about

American sf films also require some generalization, where the big budget mainstream

movies are lumped together with art house or independent productions. Thus, I limit this

discussion only to the commercial mainstream of Hollywood, which exerts its influences

in every part of the world.

Such imposition of boundaries leaves us with two identifiably distinct traditions of

cinema that interact with each other in a curious manner. Working within these limitations,

this essay examines the sf films produced over the last 12 years in India and claims that

rather than simply replicating major Hollywood productions, Indian sf transforms the core

values of the movies while retaining the exterior structure, thus giving birth to what Homi

Bhabha terms postcolonial mimicry, which in its differences and subversions becomes an

ambivalent and menacing partial copy of the Western original.

In such studies of popular Indian cinema as by Anustup Basu, Sheila J. Nayar, Ashish

Rajadhyaksha, Rashna Wadia Richards, and Ravi Vasudevan (“National Pasts and

Futures”), the inter-relationship between Indian and American movie industries becomes

obvious. Almost all the scholars agree that a considerable number of mainstream Indian

films are made under the direct or indirect influence of mainstream Hollywood movies.

However, contrasting social values of postcolonial India and the post-industrial US

necessitate a number of adjustments in the scripts for appealing to the common viewers. In

The Melodramatic Public Vasudevan employs the term ‘melodramatic’ to describe this

viewing public as well as the films that are targeted primarily towards these viewers.1

Vasudevan, however, concedes that the understanding of melodrama differs considerably

among the two cultures of the US and India, especially because of the associations of

melodrama with backwardness in local film circles, and that of Hollywood not only with

modernity, but also with former Western colonial powers.

Before delving further into a discussion of the relationship of the two film traditions

mentioned above, a quick glance at the dominant conventions of mainstream Indian

cinema will be useful. Most Indian commercial movies work through predictable plots and

formulaic formal arrangements to keep the audience within a comfortable viewing

convention: these include ‘idealized love between a young couple . . . encounters with

unctuous villains . . . an assortment of comic stereotypes . . . ubiquitous and absolutely

essential song and dance numbers that defy all space, time and logic; and hyperbolic

displays’ of on-screen emotions (Nayar 73). In addition to these, commercial films often

endorse tradition over modernity and the rural over the urban; emphasize family loyalty,

value the traditional domestic roles of women; see men as protectors of women, and more

often than not condone the differences of class, caste and religion. Although having finer

regional variations, such social values structurally hold true for the majority of the Indian

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population. An ample amount of faith in gods (mostly from the dominant Hindu pantheon)

and other supernatural entities is also a characteristic of these films. Most mainstream

Indian movies follow variations of the above mentioned formula.2 So, when such films

borrow generously from Hollywood, the rearrangement of the plots within this narrative

convention becomes an absolute necessity. Consequently, in sf movies, which more often

look forward to the future than reminisce about the past, the Indian viewer is repeatedly

presented with a curious amalgam of Western techno-science and traditional, often anti-

modern, values systems: a blend of Western technological imagery and Indian melodrama.

Thus, even if an Indian film directly copies from a Hollywood movie, it alters the purpose,

effect, and associations that the original work emphasizes. Such a process of modification

embeds these films into the discourse of cultural mimicry – a subversive, and partial copy

that mocks their own sources.

According to Bhabha, ‘postcolonial mimicry’ occurs when the less powerful colonial/

postcolonial subject displaces the powerful colonizers’ gaze by mimicking their actions,

but never exactly becoming them. There always remains a difference between the original

and the mimicry. Bhabha highlights the subversive potential of this ‘difference’ – this type

of mimicry copies, but also distorts the original, and thus challenges the set of values

connected with the original.3 He identifies this subversive potential, this difference and

partial existence, as the menacing aspect of colonial mimicry. Although the relationship

between India and the US is not colonial in any way, the neo-colonial agendas of the US

and global capitalist exploitation of the cheap labor market in India (along with other

places in Asia) by the American multinationals, have created a similar association between

these two nations, at least in the mutual social perceptions. Bhabha’s assertion thus is as

much applicable to this context as in classical colonial relationships.

In The Location of Culture, Bhabha quotes a nineteenth-century British missionary’s

account of the Bibles handed out to the people of colonial Bengal:

Still everyone would gladly receive a Bible. And why? – that he may lay it up as a curiosityfor a few piece; or use it for waste paper. Such it is well known has been the common fate ofthese copies of Bible . . . Some have been bartered in the markets, others have been thrown insnuff shops and used as wrapping paper. (131)

Bhabha uses this account to expose the myth of pure ideological authority in the colonial

context; however, this account also connects with his main argument that colonial

mimicry distorts and transforms the qualities of the colonizer, or reassigns values

associated with the objects of appropriation. Thus the resultant images or practices of such

copying are double-edged swords – partially resembling the original, but also suiting the

need of the colonized. In this case, the purpose of handing out the Bible was to convert

the natives into Christianity, and consequently making them pursue the practices of the

colonial masters. The natives received the Bibles, but changed its purpose; and by doing so

they not only disrupted the expectations of the masters, they displaced the authority

associated with the book.

Similar transformations are visible in the Indian perceptions of almost all the cultural

products that overtly express Western cultural hegemony, and as we have already

discussed, in the popular cultural context of mainstream cinema, especially in treatment of

sf themes. Such partial copying of Western plots and images is exactly what Bhabha

describes as ‘the ambivalent world of “not quite/not white”, on the margins of metropolitan

desire’, where ‘the founding objects of the Western world become the erratic, eccentric,

accidental objects trouves of the colonial discourse – the part-objects of presence’ (131).

Here ‘metonymy of presence’ is achieved through the semblance of the representational

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images on screen, the alteration of associated values of which ultimately creates amenacing

effect displacing the westernized notion of science, technology, and social relations.

Although our focus is on the sf films released in the first 12 years of the twenty-first

century, a quick survey of Indian sf cinema of the previous 50 years will confirm the

pattern of interaction between India and the West, creating a historical perspective for our

discussion. The first sf film in India was probably an Indian-American joint venture,

Kaadu/The Jungle (1952; Tamil/English) by William Berke, which, in the style of Arthur

Conan Doyle’s Lost World, portrays a white hunter’s adventure through Indian jungles

(aided by the natives), that ends in the discovery of woolly mammoths. However, as is

apparent, there is nothing very Indian about this film produced and directed by an

American, other than the Indian setting. From the 1960s though, we start seeing some early

efforts by Indian filmmakers. The legendary director Satyajit Ray’s cancelled project, The

Alien, that allegedly influenced Steven Spielberg’s E.T. (1982) is probably the best known

yet failed early attempt in the Bengali film industry (“Close Encounters”). Kalai Arasi

(1963) by A. Kasilingam in Tamil and Karutha Rathrikal (1967) by Mahesh in Malayalam

were two completed early sf films in India. While Kalai Arasi is not much different from

the 1950s alien contact fantasies in Hollywood, Karutha Rathrikal retells the story of R.L.

Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (possibly under influence of its

numerous film versions). The Bengali film Sabujdwiper Raja (1979) by Tapan Sinha, an

adolescent adventure tale that deals with the properties of a fallen meteorite, can be

considered a borderline case. Some years later, in the late 1980s, we get derivatives from

H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man (and its various screen adaptations) in Mr India (1987,

Shekhar Kapur) and Superman in Superman (1987, B. Gupta) in Hindi. Some more sf films

came out in the 1990s. While the 1991 Telugu film Aditya 369 is a time travel story, 1993

Bengali movie Amar Kahini deals with a home-grown solution to the world’s energy

problem.

These occasional forays into the sf genre did not pay very well for the industry used to

catering to a mainstream audience mostly familiar with the tale of social interaction,

formulaic dance sequences, and love stories, although they were ready to accept

mythological stories, or out and out fantasies (success of films like Nagin, 1976, and other

snake woman movies proves that beyond doubt). One fact that becomes conspicuous

though is that at least two thirds of the movies were influenced by Western sources, and

probably their lack of proper integration of Western images within Indian value systems as

well as viewing codes led to commercial failures; the unavailability of appropriate special

effect technology for creating techno-scientific images also cannot be ruled out as a cause.

Consequently, except for Mr India and to some extent Sabujdwiper Raja, none of these

ventures left any lasting impression.

However, the first 12 years of the new century released almost double the number of

films dealing with sf themes or images of techno-science produced in the previous 50

years: Patalghar (2003, Bengali), Fun2shh (2003, Hindi), Koi Mil Gaya (2003, Hindi),

Rudraksh (2004, Hindi), Krrish (2006, Hindi), Jaane Hoga Keya (2006, Hindi),

Bharathan (2007, Malayalam), Dashavatharam (2008, Tamil), Love Story 2050 (2008,

Hindi), Friend (2009, Bengali), Action Replayy (2010, Hindi), Enthiran (2010, Tamil),

Kutti Pisasu (2010, Tamil), Achena Bandhu (2011, Bengali), Ra.One (2011, Hindi), 7aum

Arivu (2011, Tamil), Joker (2012, Hindi). Although very few of these movies can be given

credit for originality of plots and ideas, a lot of these broke new grounds for special effects

and huge budgets. Koi Mil Gaya, Love Story 2050, Enthiran, and Ra.One are some of the

biggest spending movies ever made in India. Some of these movies also found real

blockbuster status through huge box office revenue and awards. Multiple award winner

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and hugely popular Koi Mil Gaya (KMG) and Enthiran and hugely grossing Krrish (sequel

of KMG) require special mention in this context. Films such as Patalghar (multiple

awards), Dashavatharam, Friend, and Ra.One also found considerable commercial

success. Furthermore, many of these movies featured big name stars of the industry

(Hrithik Roshan in KMG and Krrish; Rajnikanth in Enthiran; Shah Rukh Khan in Ra.One;

Kamal Haasan in Dashavatharam; Tapas Pal in Friend, etc.).

This scenario indicates that the Indian film industry is slowly opening up to big budget

Hollywood-style sf complete with a superstar cast, state-of-the-art technology, and

computer graphics. In a sense, the success of these movies shows the economic viability of

this type of films and thus changing taste of the audience in the country. However, these

films also indicate the continuing impact of Hollywood, not only in style but also in

content. Like the movies from the last century, almost all of these movies are various

reinventions of well-known Hollywood blockbusters and/or directly copy shots and

sequences from them. KMG and Achena Bandhu remade Steven Spielberg’s E.T.

(ironically accused of being based on Ray’s script for The Alien) within the Indian context;

Enthiran closely resembles Alex Proyas’ I, Robot; Ra.One is a strange mixture of Joseph

Kosinski’s Tron: Legacy and James Cameron’s Terminator 2: Judgment Day, even trying

to match them in shots and sequences; Action Replayy displays undeniable similarities to

Back to the Future; and Kutti Pisasu is a bizarre coming together of local supernatural

tales and Michael Bay’s Transformers. Catering to the mainstream audience, these films

thus engage in the quick process of copying and pasting successful Hollywood elements

into the regular local formula.

However, as mentioned before, when pasted into the local formula, such ‘quick

copying’ no longer remains a simple matter of pilfering; the product rather becomes a

reinvention of the Hollywood plots and images into the Indian milieu. Thus, in analysing

such a transformative quality of Indian sf cinema, it is absolutely essential to remember

that mainstream Indian movies not only function on the ‘backward’ melodramatic

tradition, which we have discussed above, but some basic epistemological and semantic

differences mark the Indian and Western understandings of science and technology, at

least in the popular consciousness. In discussing Marathi sf, Hans Harder emphasizes the

association of techno-science with the West and European colonialism, and the term’s

polar opposition to the concepts of religion and philosophy that became inherently

associated with the Indian tradition. Such oppositional relationship between religio-

mythical Indianness and a techno-scientific West still dominates the popular psyche to a

great extent, leading to the construction of popular narratives in polarizing modes.

In this context, Anustup Basu argues that this oppositional relationship was further

heightened in the postcolonial nation in narratives that lamented the loss of an agrarian

society and the rise of industrial urbanization, by positing man and machine on the two

poles of the spectrum.4 In his excellent analysis of Bollywood superhero movies, Basu

further explains that the previously mentioned oppositional relationship between Western

techno-science and religio-mythical Indianness did not allow for the creation of a proper

‘cognitive novum’ considered as a main characteristic of sf by Darko Suvin:5

The nation therefore had no realist narrative of state-of-art scientific development to offer as aconsistent countering phenomenon to these clear and present dangers [of foreign enemies withdestructive technology]. It had to respond with a mythic impelling that would ensure a cosmicrenewal rather than a plausible, earthbound one. Perfectly in tune with this overall narrativemethod, inscriptions of science in the comparatively low-budget mise-en-scene were alsomore emblematic than realist; known gadgets were often freely invested with magical orabominable qualities without apology. (Basu 560)

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Such narratives in a way place techno-science on the side of profane West (unless

somehow blessed by a divine grace) to be defeated by moral and righteous ‘son-of-the-

land’.

Yet, with the rise of Hindu nationalism and the claim of Vedic science, especially since

the 1990s with the ascendency of Hindu nationalist parties such as Bharatya Janata Party

and Vishva Hindu Parishad, a rapprochement between religio-mythical Indianness and

techno-science can be witnessed. An originary claim in matters of all knowledge, scientific

and philosophical, puts Hindu India at the fountainhead of the world’s scientific

civilization, thus undermining the oppositionality between these cultural poles. Both Basu

and Harder agree that this concept of Vedic science originated out of the nineteenth-

century Hindu nationalist discourse started by Vivekananda and Dayanand Saraswati, and

was stoked further in the early twentieth century by Aurobindo Ghosh (see Basu 561–3

and Harder 106). However, it is only during the latter part of the last century that such

discourses coincide with India’s technological growth and rise of postmodern science in

the West (quantum physics is often cited as corresponding with Vedic philosophy).6

In addition, discourses of alternative and indigenous modes of knowledge as advocated by

activists such as Vandana Shiva further question the prioritization of western techno-

science over indigenous and traditional (communal and often intuitive) knowledge.

Consequently, over the last two decades the sharp contrast between such oppositional pairs

as science/religion, machine/man, and modernity/tradition have become smudged at the

edges. Under such a complex and intriguing scenario, the rise of tales of science and

technology on the silver screen takes on a new meaning. They not only reflect the imprint

of techno-science on Indian community, but a new type of legitimization of such techno-

science into the religio-mythical structure of Indian popular narrative. In other words, it is

now possible to tell the story of apparently techno-scientific and ‘cognitive novum’,

without completely divorcing the traditional mystical and intuitive underpinning of the

Indian society.

Still, although smudged at the edges, the supplementary usages of such oppositional

values as science and religion or technology and mythology into the same narrative

structure create contradictory images and weird social vistas. Furthermore, the

melodramatic formula, entrenched into the nostalgic/backward bending tradition of

Indian cinema, clashes with the projected futurity of the Hollywood sf, from which Indian

sf films borrow, producing a unique visual discourse of popular postcoloniality. Such

instances can justifiably be considered examples of mimicry that mocks and distorts, and

in the final analysis, gives birth to a menacing double that subverts the expectations of the

original production. The rest of the essay closely explores three examples of such visual

discourse – Koi Mil Gaya, Enthiran, and Kutti Pisasu – to further examine how

borrowing from Hollywood becomes more akin to subversion of the underlying values

than simple copying of images.

While examining the aforementioned films, we will not only trace the amount of

borrowing from a particular Hollywood counterpart, but rather how these movies change

and incorporate the Western elements into their bodies. The first two films, as mentioned

earlier, have seen huge commercial success, and the last film provides a particularly

curious intersection of sf, supernatural, divinity, horror, and comedy in patently lowbrow

mode.

Rakesh Roshan’s KMG (2003) can be considered the first big-budget sf film in India.

Starring Hrithik Roshan and Preity Zinta in lead roles, this film possesses all the

ingredients of a Bollywood mainstream success. The more-than-decent special effects

and well composed musical numbers give it added impetus for commercial achievements.

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The film is centered on a mentally retarded young man, Rohit (Roshan), whose father was

involved in search for extra-terrestrial intelligence, and died in a car crash shortly after

making contact with aliens through a homemade device. Nisha (Zinta), the new girl in

town becomes Rohit’s friend, prompting jealous reaction from the town bully Raj. Rohit

and Nisha contact the aliens by accident using Rohit’s father’s homemade device. An alien

space craft visits their small Himalayan town and leaves one of the aliens behind. Rohit

and his young friends become the alien, Jaadu’s (‘magic’ in Hindi), ally. Jaadu cures

Rohit’s brain damage, and endows him with superhuman powers. Nisha and Rohit fall in

love. Government scientists, with the help of police, capture Jaadu. Nevertheless, Rohit

frees Jaadu in the end, helping him/her/it go back to his/her/its home world.

There can be no doubt that KMG is hugely influenced by Steven Spielberg’s 1982 film

E.T., even reproducing certain sequences almost shot for shot. The aliens collecting

botanical samples in the forest, Rohit and his friends hiding Jaadu in the toolshed, Rohit

trying to escape with Jaadu on a bicycle, the setting of Jaadu’s leaving earth in a spaceship

are some of the examples of direct appropriation. However, more interesting is KMG’s

bringing E.T.’s plot elements within the codes of Hindi mainstream film. A lonely boy’s

encounter and friendship with a stranded alien becomes secondary (at least in the first half

of the film) to the mandatory love story, and a human antagonist that endangers this love

between the hero and the heroine. In addition, because romantic love between children is

not endorsed in Indian culture, the hero is changed into a grown man. Once the romantic

angle is created, there is no problem in including song and dance sequences. Furthermore,

the psychic connection between E.T., the extraterrestrial, and his little friend Elliott in

Spielberg’s film is changed into Jaadu endowing Rohit with superhuman abilities (not only

intelligence). This is important in transforming Rohit from a retarded youth to a

Bollywood style, dancing, singing, fighting, flirting superhero.

Further changes can be noticed in terms of religious ideology. Although KMG

maintains the ‘scientific’ angle in this sf, it alludes to Hindu religiosity at every

opportunity. In fact it is this aspect of KMG that prompts Dominic Alessio and Jessica

Langer to conclude that this film represents the modern face of Hindu nationalism in their

essay “Science Fiction, Hindu Nationalism and Modernity: Bollywood’s Koi . . . Mil

Gaya.” As they rightly indicate, at various points in the film god and faith is invoked. The

film begins with Rohit’s father contacting aliens with the Hindu holy word ‘oum’,

signifying the divine connection in the universe. The aliens arrive on earth to cure Rohit

after his impassioned prayer to Lord Krishna. In fact, Jaadu’s skin color is blue, the color

in which Lord Krishna is often depicted. Films such as E.T. or Close Encounters of the

Third Kind are primarily meditations on extraterrestrial life and possibilities of friendly

human interaction with them. Themes of alienation and tolerance are important aspects of

these works, but as sf films, they primarily rely on logical development, not religious faith

in their fictional universes. On the contrary, in KMG use of the word ‘oum’ for contacting

the aliens legitimizes the primacy of Hindu belief, and attaches the film to the concept of

Vedic science.7 These associations have several implications. First, by attaching itself to

Vedic science, the film rejects, to a great extent, Western understanding of science

(embedded in the source works). The failure of the American-aided Indian Space Research

Organization in their effort to connect with the alien further emphasizes this point. Second,

by legitimizing Hinduism, the film also establishes the primacy of religion over

‘materialistically’ oriented science; thus, the film implies that the alien encounter is a

result of divine will (an answer to Rohit’s prayer).

However, this appeal to Hindu divinities may as well be a simple conformity with the

mytho-religious formula of Indian filmdom: god-fearing people in predicament always

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pray, and often that prayer is granted through supernatural agency. Yet, this simple

conformity in its ritualistic gestures trumps the hegemonic devices of techno-scientific

modernity of Western sf – bringing it not only within the ambits of Vedic science, but also

within the codes of Indian mainstream film viewing. Obviously, KMG’s primary intention

is to entertain the Indian viewers; consequently, it cannot stray too far from the local codes

of entertainment. Such prioritizing of religion (nowhere present in the source work),

however subtle, clearly undermines the basic rationalist attitude of the Western source.

Coupled with the failure of the American scientists (mentioned earlier), this overt and

covert use of religious elements creates the menacing effect of mimicry – repeating and

distorting the original images and undercutting the values buttressing such images.

Audience expectations playing a huge role in the creation of such a ‘menacing’ effect

further highlights the desire of appropriation of the Western images in forging a discourse

of popular postcoloniality – a hybrid and mongrelized social milieu constantly reinventing

and recreating itself at the intersection of traditional and colonial/neocolonial cultural flux.

The fact that KMG was such a commercial success, a rarity among sf movies up to that

time, suggests that this ‘mimicry’ went down well with the changing tastes of the Indian

audience.

S. Shankar’s Tamil film Enthiran presents us with another such success story a few

years later. With Rajnikanth and Aishwariya Rai in lead roles, this film also depends on

star-power, dance numbers, and high-tech special effects for success. The primary source

of inspiration behind this movie is undoubtedly Alex Proyas’ 2004 I, Robot,8 although it

can be connected to any other artificial intelligence, or ‘rebellion of the machines’ film or

stories (one source being Tamil sf author Sujatha’s story in a similar vein). Nevertheless,

certain core elements, such as insertion of human feeling in an AI controlled robot, a

robot’s ‘understanding’ the value of life, rules like Asimov’s three laws of robotics

controlling the operation of the robots (in the first part of the film), a rogue AI chip making

the robots destructive, are very similar to Proyas’ film. There are also approximations in

the visual elements: the machine-man created by the scientist Vasigaran, before putting on

the human skin, looks almost exactly like the robots in I, Robot; the color symbolism – red

for evil and blue for good – are also the same in the two films; the battle between the

robots and the humans is also similar in the two films; the shot of the composite robots

creating a giant figure leaning against a skyscraper in Enthiran is reminiscent of the giant

robot figure standing in the USR building in I, Robot; and definitely we cannot ignore the

names – ‘enthiran’ means ‘artificial man’ or ‘robot’ in Tamil (the Hindi release of the film

is in fact titled Robot).

However, these similarities again highlight the transposition of the images/elements of

the Hollywood movie into the context of the Indian popular culture. The central love story

is created through a love triangle between scientist Vasigaran (Rajnikanth), his fiancee

Sana (Rai), and the android Chitti (Rajnikanth in double role). Although the theme of AI

achieving human consciousness central to I, Robot is still an important one in Enthiran,

that element is transformed more into a rivalry between lovers, and, it can even be argued,

into a Ravana-like capturing and confining of Sana into Chitti’s stronghold guarded by his

robot army.9

The other important element for success, choreographed musical fantasy, is also not

lacking. Vasigaran and Sana cavort all over the world – from the Arabian deserts to

Machu Pichu. That is not all: in Chitti’s fantasy, Sana transforms into a female robot, and

dances with a group of machine-men; one of the scenes even includes robot lions

accompanying Chitti in his majestic catwalk. Undoubtedly, such a transformation hugely

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enhances the imaginative life of a robot, which in Proyas’ film could only dream of

liberating others and standing in front of a robot crowd.

As is apparent, in these cultural adaptations, Indian social values replace Western ones.

In Indian films the loner hero does not appeal to the mass. Both Basu and Vasudevan (The

Melodramatic Public) agree that an important element in the nostalgic melodramatic

tradition is the family: the Indian hero is also an integral part of the Indian family. His

‘goodness’ is often established either in opposition to the forces that threaten his family/

potential family (through marriage), or in his connection to and conformity with the

established family values.10 Complying with this idea, Vasigaran is placed within a family

(with aging parents); he follows all the etiquettes of a good son; and so does Chitti. In

addition, Chitti plays the Good Samaritan and protector of women in the first portion of the

film: he helps ladies with housework, and beats up thugs of all sorts. The concept of

superhero is surely at work here. Not only does Chitti perform these daring physical feats,

he is also the projection of the Bollywood hero in artistic and intellectual aspects: he

paints, he dances, he sings, he remembers whatever he reads, helps Sana in her exams, and

cooks well. Vasigaran also follows this ‘filmi hero’ trend, though not to the extent of

Chitti: he is a genius scientist, who can sing and dance, and doubles up as a commando-

style disguised rescuer.

One can argue that such ‘enhancement’ as seen in Chitti is only further developing the

estrangement present in the original work: a machine’s slow awakening of human

awareness and emotions. However, it is equally arguable that Indian viewing code

imposing itself upon the Western material not only copies the images and ideas, but

presents a distorted vision that at best shakes and at worst ridicules the logical/cognitive

aspect of thought development within the fictional universe of a certain text – an

overwhelming tendency in Western sf.

Enthiran, unlike KMG, though does not get much into Vedic science or science/

religion discourse directly. Although in some instances, such as when Chitti appears as a

multi-armed god fighting a group of thugs, the importance of faith in society can be

witnessed, direct references to religion are generally kept at the background. Rather,

exaggerated human emotions, and social customs play pivotal roles in transforming the

techno-scientific futurity of the Western movie into the formulaic melodrama of Indian

filmdom. In the sequences where Chitti helps Sana and other ladies, the vulnerability of

women, an important and traditional social character, is highlighted – through dominance

of local men, and an attempted rape on a train. Thus by inference, the film reinforces

woman’s place in domestic sphere, her subservience to man, and the value of modesty,

which completely sidesteps the social values associated with modernization of a society –

gender equality (or at least changing gender roles), an educated and enlightened

population, a mundane but rational attitude towards technological creations, etc.

A heavy-handed representation of such undermining of modernity can be seen during a

fire rescue sequence. The robot rescues a woman from sure death, and brings her naked

into full public view. While running away in shame the woman gets crushed by a truck.

The purported message is a machine’s inability to grasp human emotions and social

values11 – which would not have allowed it to bring the woman into full public view

unclothed. Similarly, emotionally driven irrational behavior towards machines by the

scientists also underlines the subversion of logic and rationality associated with the

Western scientific attitude: while the scientists Vasigaran and Vohra (the evil scientist)

rant at the robots and other machines, the two lab assistants act more like village idiots

than scientists (even tempting the robot with food). Elements such as those mentioned

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above present a milieu that exhibits a curious mix of anti-modern social values and a

craving for modern technology.

In a way the creation of the robot in Enthiran seems more like a miracle than a result

of the social and technological advancement of India. Chitti is closer to the monster of

Frankenstein, cropping up in the unchanging and unready landscape, than a product of

decades of scientific development with visible imprints in the social backdrop (the

occasional images of scientific advancement are only skin deep). Thus unlike Sonny, who

is just another robot in a huge mechanical workforce serving the human population in a

futuristic Chicago, Chitti is from the beginning visually and ontologically marked out as

an anomaly – meant for either greatness or villainy. Such changes in plot material again

highlight the refractive quality of the image of the machine-man and the scientist: they

much resemble wizards and genies in fairytales or fantasy to the mind of the general

populace, which is again a conspicuous warping of the positivist and logical attitude

displayed by the social framework of the Hollywood movie. Consequently, such

mimicries of Hollywood films as seen in Enthiran produce reflections that not only distort

them, but also challenge the very basis of their creation.

Unlike Enthiran and KMG, our third example, Kutti Pisasu (henceforth Kutti), is not a

national blockbuster; it does not possess a superstar cast like the other two films, either. In

fact, it can be considered a badly made, regional B movie, definitely operating with a lower

budget than some other special effects-driven films; still, it is a film that has somehow

found a national niche market (it has been dubbed in multiple Indian languages in DVD

release). Kutti is not inspired by any one specific Western sf film in terms of plot

construction (although influences of an earlier Hindi horror movie, Tarzan: The Wonder

Car, which itself was inspired by the American sf/crime-fighting TV series Knight Rider,

is highly pronounced). Furthermore, this film cannot be classified as proper sf; it is rather a

blend of supernatural fantasy and technological imagery. Although there is nothing

unusual in this generic combination, something is obviously strange in bringing together

the disparate concepts of southern Indian supernatural and technological images from

Hollywood sf. Thus, examination of such a movie will provide a lucid idea of how the

supernatural and the technological are all wrapped up in the lowbrow popular imagination

in India, already hinted subtly by the two previously discussed movies.

The introductory section of Kutti is concerned with the prowess of a local incarnation

of the goddess Kali in eighteenth/nineteenth-century India; the goddess punishes evil

characters, including an irreverent British officer, and blesses a native man. The rest of the

film takes place 200 years later (our present), and is concerned with two ghosts. The first is

the spirit of a murdered woman who possesses a little girl (Priya), and the second is the

spirit of the woman’s brother, who died with her. The second spirit though has a

complicated genealogy and manifestation: it has taken possession of a car that transforms

into a giant robot (Transformers-style); moreover, this brother in his previous life

(according to the Hindu concept of reincarnation) was the man blessed by Kali in the

introductory part of the film. In the rest of the film, Priya and the car, spurred by the

supernatural abilities of the possessing spirits, kill the murderers. One of the murderers

turns out to be an evil sorcerer. After some magical confrontations between the two

parties, the evil sorcerer is killed by the spirits aided by divine powers of the goddess;

subsequently, the two spirits are set free.

There is nothing much unusual in the supernatural aspect of the movie: it is a run-of-

the-mill story of ghosts, sorcerers, superstitions, and divine powers. What is interesting

though is the importation of Western images through the available computer generated

imagery (CGI) technology. The director, Rama Narayanan, was undeniably influenced

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by the Transformers series (2007 onwards), especially how cars transform into giant

robots. The presence of a yellow car that converts into a yellow robot accompanying

young Priya clearly supports such a conjecture (resembling the yellow Autobot,

Bumblebee, which accompanies the adolescent hero in Transformers). Towards the end

of the film, the viewer encounters another robot; this time, the evil sorcerer transforms

into a ‘magic robot’ for the final battle (curiously resembling Megatron, the villainous

leader of the Decepticons). This magic robot though is eaten up by a magical anaconda12

and spat out in flames to die.

Such borrowing of Hollywood images is not uncommon as we have seen earlier. The

intriguing element here is the purpose for which these images are used. These images of

technology are purportedly used in Western films to portray scientific ideas, or at least to

create phenomena explainable by natural laws of the universe (according to Carl

Freedman such an attitude can be considered ‘cognition effect’ rather than cognition

proper in sf).13 In their transposed incarnations, however, these images serve a completely

different purpose: to entertain the viewer with some techno-gimmickry (without any

possible connection to the real supernatural plot of the film)14 within a fictional universe

ruled not by the laws of nature, but by supernatural agencies, thus completely discarding

the purposes of the original images. In a way, the fate of these images is not much different

from the fate of the Bibles distributed by the missionary to the population of British India,

mentioned in Bhabha’s account of postcolonial mimicry.

As is apparent, in Kutti the natural and supernatural spheres collapse highly

conspicuously, although without any narrative or conceptual logic (unlike the two other

movies discussed earlier). This inexplicability and the fact that very few reviews (for

example, “Rama Naryanan Does a Mini Hollywood”) of the film even paid attention to this

issue indicate the co-existence of these two worlds in the popular imagination. The makers

of the film rely heavily on the audiences’ sense of incredulity in matters of the

extraordinary – be it a ghost, or a robot, or a ghost becoming a robot. The rampant

endorsement of class, caste, and religion based superstitions in this film only further

underlines the fact that for these makers, there is almost no distinction between science,

technology, superstition, and supernatural. All these simultaneously exist in one and the

same universe without any epistemological or ontological conflict, incorporating and

transforming one another – something totally antithetical to Western modernity.

Although Kutti is probably one of the weirdest examples of such collapsing of the

natural and supernatural worlds, where techno-scientific imageries freely mesh with the

world of the spirits and the divine, it is not the only one. Other sf films such as Achena

Bandhu, KMG, Patalghar, and Dashavataram do this in different ways. Consequently, the

mongrelized and transformative nature of these sf films becomes extremely noticeable.

As discussed above, such transformation of Hollywood movies is not uncommon

throughout the Indian film industries and across the genres. However, in sf films these

changes become hugely prominent, especially because of the existence of science and

supernatural on the two opposite poles of human cognitive process, and also because of the

differences between the Western and Indian imagination of the extraordinary. While in

Western epistemology the techno-scientific and the supernatural usually exist separately,

or are at least systematized into a logically explainable narrative universe (as in a whole lot

of recent vampire movies, such as the Blade series), in the Indian mode of knowledge, they

often converge without apology. Thus, patently Western techno-scientific elements/

imageries stand out conspicuously in the twilight realm of Indian sf films.

There is no question about the fundamentally hybrid quality of Indian sf, both filmic

and literary, where Western and Indian elements come together in creating the narrative

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and conceptual frameworks. While literary sf in India are mostly targeted towards a more

educated audience, and sometime written with specific theoretical premises in mind

(especially those in English language), the films are produced for mass consumption –

made to entertain the widest possible audience (see Banerjee).15 Such cultural products of

mass consumption are often dictated more by market concerns than by aesthetic or

theoretical questions; and market concerns lead these films to keep the audience within its

comfortable viewing codes, rather than challenge the public’s core socio-cultural values.

Consequently, Indian sf cinema, which not only departs from conventional viewing

practices of Indian films but also borrows heavily from Hollywood movies, has to reinvent

the Western originals into a melodramatic format and tweak the ideas of science and

technology to fit into the mytho-religious aesthetics of the local viewers, while also

reorienting the local viewers towards a genre that at least depicts conspicuous images of

techno-science if not dealing with proper scientific ideas.

Hence, these films renovate elements from Hollywood blockbusters into the already

existing film genres in India – romantic love story, ghost story, tales of divine grace, etc. –

and play on the already established stereotypes. With rare exceptions such as Patalghar,

these films do not (unlike their literary counterparts) strive for a synthesized originality.

What they produce though is a pop-culture manifestation of postcolonial appropriation of

Western images, where the mimicry not only copies, but transforms, reflects, but distorts:

the difference between the source and the copy is at once irrelevant and immense. As

Bhabha says, ‘The ambivalence of colonial authority repeatedly turns from mimicry – a

difference that is almost nothing but not quite – to menace – a difference that is almost

total but not quite’ (131). There is little doubt that the reinventions performed by Indian sf

movies are more menacing than alike.

Notes

1. According to Vasudevan, the following associations make this term an appropriate expressionfor the popular film tradition: ‘emphasis on loss of family, of community, and difficulties ofachieving romantic fulfilment . . . high contrivance in narrative mechanisms, for example ofcoincidence, as if insistently locking dramatis personae to a particular narrative universe’ (TheMelodramatic Public 10).

2. In addition to the more artistically and less commercially inclined ‘Parallel Cinema’,mainstream productions that do not follow formulaic melodrama surely exist, but the largepercentage of films that follow the above mentioned formula makes it appropriate.

3. Bhabha says, ‘What they all share is a discursive process by which the excess or slippageproduced by the ambivalence of mimicry (almost the same, but not quite) does not merely‘rupture’ the discourse, but becomes transformed into an uncertainty which fixes the colonialsubject as a “partial” presence. By “partial” I mean both “incomplete” and “virtual”’ (123).

4. Basu (559) mentions Mehboob Khan’s Mother India and B.R. Chopra’s Naya Daur, bothreleased in 1957, as examples of such films.

5. In Metamorphoses of Science Fiction (1979), Suvin defines sf in the following manner: ‘It[science fiction] should be defined as a fictional tale determined by the hegemonic literarydevice of a locus and/or dramatis personae that (1) are radically or at least significantlydifferent from empirical times, places, and characters of “mimetic” or “naturalist” fiction, but(2) are nonetheless – to the extent that SF differs from other “fantastic” genres, that is,ensembles of fictional tales without empirical validation – simultaneously perceived as notimpossible within the cognitive (cosmological and anthropological) norms of the author’sepoch’ (viii). Thus, according to him, through interaction of ‘estrangement’ and ‘cognition’, sfcreates a ‘novum’, or something radically different from the existing world, in its narrativeuniverse.

6. Such discourse has become a topic of high debate. While scholars such as Vandana Shivaconsider possibilities of such alternative epistemology, Meera Nanda completely dismisses that

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claim. Nanda questions the scientificity of Vedic science by citing Subhash Kak andRammohan Ray’s tendency of projecting Vedic passages as coded form of scientific language.She further questions the scientific methodology of the ancient sages, the absence of whichmarks Vedic science as a form of mysticism rather than science.

7. Although sending ‘sound waves into space’, as the scientist describes, is technicallyimpossible.

8. Itself loosely based on Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot stories.9. This is a reference to the Indian epic Ramayana, to which many films in the melodramatic

tradition resort in portraying the capture of a woman for purposes of sexual exploitation. Theten-headed demon-king Ravana, is often seen as the prototype of arch-villains attempting todestroy traditional ‘good’ in Indian culture.

10. See Basu for further discussion on Indian film hero and family values.11. In Proyas’ film, such a function is served by a robot’s calculated rescue of a police officer

instead of a drowning child, based on the survival probabilities.12. This is probably a visual allusion to Luis Llosa’a 1997 movie Anaconda, which did quite good

business in India.13. Although in all justification Transformers is a fantasy, it is placed within a natural universe, not

functioning out of any supernatural volition. In Critical Theory and Science Fiction (2000)Carl Freedman problematizes Suvin’s concept of ‘cognitive estrangement’. He points out thefact that adhering strictly to the meaning of ‘cognition’ and ‘estrangement’ would excludemuch of the works in the popular pulp sf tradition while including many others which show lessaffinity with the traditional sf. To solve this dilemma Freedman modifies the term ‘cognition’as ‘cognition effect’ to include texts that present an appearance of cognitive approach thoughwithout strictly being cognitive; thus, he defines sf as the genre that posits ‘cognitiveestrangement’ as its central tendency, but not as the only one.

14. Such techno-gimmickry even fulfils the musical and dance requirements: in one sequence wesee Priya (in a cow-girl outfit) and the robot dancing in a garden.

15. See Banerjee for detailed discussion on Indian sf literature.

Notes on contributor

Suparno Banerjee, PhD, is an Assistant Professor in the English Department at Texas StateUniversity, San Marcos, USA.

References

Alessio, Dominic and Jessica Langer. “Nationalism and Postcolonialism in Indian Science Fiction:Bollywood’s Koi Mil Gaya (2003).” New Cinemas: Journal of Contemporary Film 5.3 (2007):217–29. Print.

Asmiov, Isaac. I, Robot. New York: Ballantine, 1983. Print.Banerjee, Suparno. “Other Tomorrows: Postcoloniality, Science Fiction and India.” Diss. Louisiana

State University, 2010. Web.Basu, Anustup. “The Eternal Return and Overcoming ‘Cape Fear’: Science, Sensation, Superman

and Hindu Nationalism in Recent Hindi Cinema.” South Asian History & Culture 2.4 (2011):557–71. Print.

Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture. New York: Routledge, 1994. Print.“Close Encounters with Native E.T. Finally Real.” The Times of India Apr 5, 2003. Web.Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Lost World. London: J. Murray, 1966. Print.Freedman, Carl H. Critical Theory and Science Fiction. Hanover: Wesleyan UP, 2000. Print.Harder, Hans. “Indian and International: Some Examples of Marathi Science FictionWriting.” South

Asia Research 21.1 (2001): 105–19. Print.Nanda, Meera. Prophets Facing Backward: Postmodern Critiques of Science and Hindu

Nationalism in India. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2003. Print.Nayar, Sheila J. “The Values of Fantasy: Indian Popular Cinema through Western Scripts.” Journal

of Popular Culture 31 (1997): 73–90. Print.Rajadhyaksha, Ashish. Indian Cinema in the Time of Celluloid: From Bollywood to the Emergency.

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Richards, Rashna Wadia. “(Not) Kramer Vs. Kumar: The Contemporary Bollywood Remake asGlocal Masala Film.” Quarterly Review of Film & Video. 28.4 (2011): 342–52. Print.

Shiva, Vandana. “Comparative Perspectives Symposium: Bioprospecting/Biopiracy: Bioprospect-ing as Sophisticated Biopiracy.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture & Society. 32.2 (2007):307–13. Print.

Stevenson, Robert Louis. Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Tales. New York:Oxford University Press, 2006. Web.

Suvin, Darko R.Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the Poetics and History of a Literary Genre.New Haven: Yale UP, 1979. Print.

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Filmography

7 Aum Arivu. Dir. A.R. Murugadoss. Red Giant Movies, 2011. Video.Achena Bandhu. Dir. Sanjay Nayak. Eskay Video, 2011. Video.Action Replayy. Dir. Vipul Amrutlal Shah. Sunshine Pictures, 2010. Video.Aditya 369. Dir. S. Srinivasa Rao. Sridevi Arts, 1991. Video.Amar Kahini. Dir. Indranil Goswami. Academy Social Pictures, 1993. Video.Anaconda. Dir. Luis Llosa. Columbia Pictures, 1997. Video.Back to the Future. Dir. Robert Zemeckis. Universal Pictures, 1985. Video.Bharathan. Dir. Anil Das. Nandhakishora Films, 2007. Video.Blade. Dir. Stephen Norrington. Amen Ra Films, 1998. Video.Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Columbia pictures, 1977. Video.Dashavatharam. Dir. K.S. Ravikumar. Aascar Film, 2008. Video.Enthiran. Dir. S. Shankar. Sun Pictures, 2010. Video.E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Universal Pictures, 1983. Video.Friend. Dir. Shatabdi Roy. Dream Vision, 2009. Video.Fun2shh. Dir. Imtiaz Punjabi. Shree Ashtavinayak Cine Vision, 2003. Video.I, Robot. Dir. Alex Proyas. 20th Century Fox, 2004. Video.Jaane Hoga Keya. Dir. Ankush and Glen. P.K. Arts Creations, 2006. Video.Joker. Dir. Shirish Kunder. Hari Om Entertainment Company, 2012. Video.Kaadu/The Jungle. Dir. William Berke. Lippert Pictures, 1952. Video.Kalai Arasi. Dir. A. Kasilingam. Sarodi Brothers, 1963. Video.Karutha Rathrikal. Dir. Mahesh. Horizon, 1967. Video.Knight Rider. Universal TV, 1982-86. Video.Koi Mil Gaya. Dir. Rakesh Roshan. Film Kraft, 2003. Video.Krrish. Dir. Rakesh Roshan. Film Kraft, 2006. Video.Kutti Pisasu. Dir. Rama Narayanan. Sri Thenandal Films, 2010. Video.Love Story 2050. Dir. Harry Baweja. Baweja Movies, 2008. Video.Mr. India. Dir. Shekhar Kapur. Narsimha Enterprises, 1987. Video.Nagin. Dir. Rajkumar Kohli. Shankar Films, 1976. Video.Patalghar. Dir. Abhijit Choudhury. Black Magic Motion Pictures, 2003. Video.Ra.One. Dir. Anubhav Sinha. Red Chillies Entertainment, 2011. Video.Rudraksh. Dir. Mani Shankar. Karma Entertainment, 2004. Video.Sabujdwiper Raja. Dir. Tapan Sinha. Childrens Film Society (India), 1979. Video.Superman. Dir. B. Gupta. Fine Art Pictures, 1987. Video.Superman. Dir. Richard Donner. Warner Bros. 1978. Video.Tarzan: The Wonder Car. Dir. Abbas Burmawalla and Mustan Burmawalla. Baba Films, 2004. Video.Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Dir. James Cameron. Tri Star Pictures, 1991. Video.Transformers. Dir. Michael Bay. Paramount Pictures, 2007. Video.Tron: Legacy. Dir. Joseph Kosinski. Walt Disney Pictures, 2010. Video.

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