'The Dirty Picture' (Hindi)
Director: Milan Luthria
Cast: Vidya Balan, Naseeruddin Shah, Emraan Hashmi, Tusshar Kapoor
It’s rather ridiculous that a film so obviously based on the life of Silk Smitha should declare that “resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental”. And within a few frames, the viewer is distracted by the mish-mash of languages. Did the film have to be so faithful to the tale of a tragic heroine-wannabe that it had to become a Hindi-language film based in 1980s Madras, rather than a Hindi film based in 1970s Bombay?
The clothes, the posters, and most names are Tamil, yet the dialogues are in Mumbaiyya Hindi.
Once you get past the incongruity, though, the film follows the success mantra Reshma-turned-Silk (Vidya Balan) pouts out - entertainment, entertainment, and entertainment. Most of the *gaali*- riddled dialogues are funny.
Suryakanth (Naseeruddin Shah), who seems to be some sort of Southern hybrid with Rajni’s punch lines and Kamal’s slow drawl, smirks that a heroine’s life is like an elected government - who knows what will happen after five years? Silk’s provocative metaphors are winsome. And the speeches are well-written up unto the interval.
In the second half, though, they bend towards pop philosophy, and got sarcastic applause in the movie hall. We all know the plot - the rapid rise and desperate decline of a sex kitten. Vidya Balan has Silk Smitha’s body language down to a ‘t’, but it’s hard to reconcile her with the siren.
The oozing sensual symbolism that seemed natural on Silk Smitha doesn’t sit too well on Vidya Balan. As she moans and writhes, the women in the audience draw their clothes closer and the men fidget uncomfortably. But there is very little more Vidya Balan could have done.
She acts with passion; the delight on her face is obvious when she sees men from the first rows throwing coins at the screen and rushing up to dance as her first item number breaks out. The excitement, hauteur, epiphany, fatigue and despair in her life cycle are portrayed as distinct phases, and yet flow smoothly from one to the next. The consistency in the character is missing at times. Silk says with charming naïveté that she never reads articles about herself, only cuts out the pictures.
But then, she’s suddenly flipping through English articles quickly, weeping and setting them on fire after absorbing their import. The major drawback in the movie is that the filmmakers don’t seem to have zeroed in on what cut Silk to the quick.
Why would someone who celebrates her sexuality and shrugs off calumny be horrified at being referred to as Draupadi, for having affairs with brothers? And why is the screenplay injected with feminist asides? The real Silk Smitha said in interviews that heroines got to keep their costumes, whereas she had to return hers. She hoped that the critical acclaim she won for the few ‘character roles’ she did would allow her to segue into serious cinema. But in ‘The Dirty Picture’, Silk seems less concerned about the lack of trust in her acting abilities than the lack of respect for her off-screen persona.
There are times when the film alludes to this, but the show vs. tell factor is underutilised.
The few scenes where it’s brought in are powerful, and one wishes the movie had exploited that option.
While Silk’s downward spiral is portrayed well, its cause isn’t established. It takes a lot to crush the spirit of a woman who clings on to the tiniest hope, who purrs, “Tumne mujhe choti size ki battery samajh liya kya? Main transformer hoon.”
And she always has straws to clutch.
‘The Dirty Picture’ has some formidable acting performances, Vidya Balan’s included.
Naseeruddin Shah has a blast playing Smashing Surya. Emraan Hashmi’s understated acting makes his character convincing, and he has little trouble letting his contempt grow into intrigue, admiration and fondness. The same can’t be said of Tusshar Kapoor, though, whose character fluctuates rather wildly.