With apologies to Jerome K Jerome (author of a comic classic) and Krishna Shastri Devulapalli (Chennai-based author of Jump Cut, his second book), the title of this review is my own contributory header to a book that has charmed me as much as KSD’s first (the hilarious Ice Boys in Bell Bottoms).
Set in the bustling Tamil film industry, Jump Cut is ironically reminiscent of a favourite film, Khosla ka Ghosla (a 2006 Hindi comedy on realty scamming). Both relate tales of exploiters getting their comeuppance, sport an irreverent air, and speak up for the underdog.
Jump Cut is a seriocomic credit-heist caper dealing with the familiar subject of credit-theft in our various film-industry “woods”. Plenty of mediaspace has been devoted to the perennial problem of intellectual property rights violations, and stealing sans compensation. But while the thieves win mostly, occasionally a Ram Sampath wins too—and here, in fiction, a son avenges his cheated father.
So you have the tale of the US-based Ray (Satyajit Ray Raman, son of film- scriptwriter and veteran cineaste Raman), in India to tend his hospitalised dad. Post-funeral, Ray discovers that professional heartbreak is the root cause of his father’s heart attack and demise. Raman’s diaries, scripts and conscientious associates reveal to him, the father’s unhappy and unsuccessful professional life.
The villain is revealed soon enough—Raman’s associate-employer Rajarajan, the non-entity turned hugely successful writer-director. Ray soon becomes aware of the perfidy his film buff father was subjected to, the numerous ideas and scripts stolen without a thought. After an initial attempt to appeal to Rajarajan’s non-existent conscience, Ray employs the help of friends and sympathetic helpmeets (including Raman’s dog Dog Raj, so named since “anyone who is anyone in Tamil films is a Raj”)—and thus begins a bizarre revenge-revel, that’s enjoyable to read even as one wonders whether such an elaborate prank could actually be pulled off. Incidentally, the book is a visual read, much like a film script.
Ray’s first meeting with the loathsome but savvy Rajarajan is a scene straight out of a satirical film on the movie industry. A tad exaggerated maybe, but effective enough. One begins to root for Ray and read on to understand how the impossible is achieved, how an ordinary man (with a little help from friends, faithful workers and said dog) is able to turn the tables on somebody who seems infallible and untouchable despite being a crook.
The novel plots and zips along to a satisfying “gotcha” culmination. Concurrently, there are passing hilarious asides on the local film scenario –“first-name-only demigods” uniquely southern, the politico-cinema world of TN, language chauvinism and attendant hypocrisies.
A rich cast of characters livens up the book—but changing adaptable Chennai is an important character too. “The city had grown aimlessly, bringing white-collar folk to shirtless areas.”
KSD’s language often delights: “The car let out a smoker’s cough and died.” Ultimately, there is satisfying closure; in love too. An empathetic, insightful, fun read, Jump Cut works.
