Gitagovindam: Brotherhood Rebooted
2018!!
Since 1990s it seemed as if Telugu
film makers nearly gave up thinking about what female protagonists want from
the heroes who pursued them endlessly. Getting saved from the villain and
married to the hero, of course, was the thoughtless and routine answer that we
got in film after film. It was purely male imagination, their desires and
ambitions that drove the majority of Telugu films. Of late, though, Telugu
cinema seems to be paying a little more attention to this question, yielding
some interesting and unlikely hero figures. Nani for instance rose to
prominence playing a range of relatable heroes, male characters that were
willing to be ridiculed; did stupid things and struggled with failure and cried
like normal men did in real life. They were not completely narcissistic and the
desires and ambitions of female leads mattered to these characters. Of course,
these characters are entirely new. A range of romantic heroes, starting with
Uday Kiran to Raj Tarun, with Varun Sandesh, Siddhardh to Tarun in between,
have been trying male characters that are relatable or boy next door
characters. While they stopped with hero and the female lead getting married,
Nani’s characters went further, appealing to a range of mainstream audience.
Meanwhile, the so-called mass heroes went on portraying male characters that
saw women as either precious things to be saved from big bad outside world or
beautiful trophies that they deserve because they were fighting such big
battles in the world!
Vijay Devarakonda is the new popular
hero trying out different masculine roles. His Pellichupulu was an unassuming
but convincing portrayal of an unambitious protagonist in love with an
ambitious go getter female protagonist, a role that Nani also could have
played. But his character in Arjun Reddy brought a definitive turn to the
terrain of new masculinity. Breaking off from both the fighting-bad guy mass
heroes and winning heart boy next door romantic heroes or relatable male
characters, it brought heroism to the battle inside, the battle of new age man
with himself. It touched an emotional chord with a lot of young men and women
as this is the battle that most young men in our society seem to be fighting, a
personalized battle in the familial domain, a deeply traumatic one,
nevertheless. No wonder so many young men felt empowered with their private
misery portrayed as a heroic battle. Arjun Reddy was 21st century
Devadas with a happy ending.
It was not like Shekhar Kammula’s
heroes and Indraganti Mohankrishna’s who consciously made a dent in the
mainstream, by bringing in relatable female protagonists in response to whom
the male protagonists changed or grew in the course of the film. Both Fida and
Sammohanam are a case in point, with heroes who took the aspirations of
heroines seriously and plan their joint future accordingly. Bhanumati and
Sameera have an independent character and plans for a career that the male
protagonists have to take into account. Telugu cinema had allowed such female
characters – as single mothers, aunts or sister-in –law but rarely as heroines.
Heroines in post 1990 films often did not have a career except in a few heroine
centric films, a rare category. Arjun Reddy was a shoring up of tottering
masculinity in the face of this changing reality where self-sufficient women
cannot but be brought onto the screen, as heroines, not as mothers or
sisters-in-law. Which is why, though the female lead of Arjun Reddy possesses
the resources to act like a heroine, she is not allowed to be one. Even though
she fights the family and society all alone, the man gets to be hero, for
fighting his inner battles and misery. Welcome to the new age man who is
willing to wear his vulnerability on his sleeve.
Gita Govindam takes on this battle
for a new model of Telugu masculinity in the face of changing gender relations
by focusing on sexual harassment. The film begins and runs on a thin premise -
of a good hearted Govind’s attempt at selfie with a woman - Gita, while
sleeping - gone horribly wrong. He lands up in a situation where he has to
apologize and beg her to forgive him. The movie exploits the situational comedy
produced out of close interaction that they are forced into. The humour is at
the expense of the Govind whose mistake he, and the audience, strongly believe
is small and unintentional, as a misguided action due to the wrong advice of
friends. Once Gita realizes that the hero is a good man, she not only forgives
him retrospectively, but falls in love with him, only to be rejected by the
hero on the ground that she is not a lovable person. Her anger, in the course
of the film, is shown to be unreasonable, like Satyabhama’s anger against Lord
Krishna. After some difficult twists and turns, Govind recognizes her as the
woman who he has been looking all along, once again, and gets married to her.
Govind is lovable, sincere and
honest, personification of a good boy, handsome too, raised by an equally
honest and good hearted father. He believes in committed monogamous
relationship and does not even look at other women. His old-fashioned ideas are
made fun of by friends who nevertheless go along to fulfil his dream of setting
him up with his dream girl. The audience does not find it difficult to
believe that he is a genuinely nice guy who has committed a mistake – of taking
a selfie with a trusting woman sleeping next to him, only to end up planting a
kiss on her with phone-camera on. The audience is convinced by this time of his
innocence. Those in doubt, like me, are assuaged by his repeated repentance,
‘What was I doing? Why have I fallen to this level?’ or ‘I am not that kind of
a man’ or scolding his friend for sullying his impeccable reputation. He is
willing to apologize a thousand times to the heroine, admits his inability to
face difficult family situations and is willing to publicly humiliate himself
to win her back. It almost convinced me that this is how men caught in acts of
sexual harassment would repent. I wished that even those who are not caught
would repent. And I hoped that this film gave them an opportunity to reflect
and repent their actions.
The film also has a counterweight
(or a near villain), the heroine’s brother. He too is a good and respectable
man. As soon as his sister calls him about Govind’s attempt to molest her, he
gets ready to kill him. The audience is carried along with this side of the
story too. Who does not want to kill the molester of his sister? He tries all
his links with the police department to trace and beat up the guy who harassed
his sister. The battle between the good hearted but mistaken Govind and Gita’s
brother who feels wronged is quite engaging for the audience. After all, the
audience is both these two good men – of a Govind who has (accidentally)
harassed his future wife and a brother wanting to preserve the honour of a
sister. As the brother asks the hero who is telling him to calm down, ‘would
you stay quiet if it were your sister that got molested?’
So far so good, I felt very
content and nearly satisfied with this neat logic. But a niggling doubt cropped
up. What if Gita remained a stranger to Govind? Would it still be okay for him
not to bother about her pain, though caused unintentionally? Would he
still go to apologize to her? Where do stranger-women fit in this moral economy
of the male brotherhood? Can they be molested or harassed, by mistake? Does
their pain count?
Come to think of it, the film
beautifully uses Gita’s anger as a fuel. Despite being educated and employed
she fears that the society would fault her for sexual harassment that she
suffered, which is not out of place. She is definitely worried that it would be
a slur on her if the incident gets out and would disturb her chances of finding
a suitable husband. So, Gita uses her privilege to get the man adequately
punished. She is not a helpless or weeping victim but a strong woman, who
courageously manages the difficult family situations when Govind gives up and
passes the buck to her. She is more efficient and clued in handling social
relations. She takes his rejection well and also informs him that wives cannot
substitute for mothers.
But again, another niggling doubt
bothered me about this strength of the heroine. How is it that this well
educated and strong female lead accepts dowry as a given nor seems to be aware
of laws against molestation and harassment, intentional or unintentional? Why
is it that, when the police department itself is educating the public about the
law against sexual harassment and encouraging the young women to file
complaints that the heroine chooses to go the brother?
That is when it dawned on me, that
this is the moral economy of masculinity that holds the movie together that is
most appealing to the audience. Honourable men do not molest each others’
sisters and good women, if molested do not complain to the police. When such
things happen, the men try to avenge it like real men. In the new brotherhood
code – version 2018 – harassment/molestation in the big bad world will be
solved by returning to good old moral code – you don’t touch my sister and I
won’t touch your sister.
If Arjun Reddy shored up the
masculinity of the new age men who are unable to bear the cultural burden of
masculinity, Gitagovindam delivers us to the good old soft but conservative
gender code to deal with the new assertive, educated and independent women. Men
could agree to submit in private, provided such women agree to the laws of this
gender code. However beautiful and strong willed the women are, she should know
that her strength lies in preserving her chastity and honour which is well
served within domestic arena. And what gets in return is a sexy and engaging
man with six packs giving her exactly what her mother got from her father. The
big question, however, remains – is this what the new age women want from their
men?
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