Yesterday a kiss was taboo, today it determines the kissmat of a movie. The Censor Board doesn’t reach for the scissors anymore, they’re actually permitting a quotient of permissiveness, touchwood, touch lipstick.

But uh-huh, the smooch factor is obviously calculated to titillate. Frequently it isn’t integral to the plot at all; it’s as much of a wow moment as a blood-curdling scream is for a horror flick. Indeed, once upon a time, two daisies or sunflowers pressed against each other or a couple of colliding bicycles insinuated a torrid attraction. Daisies ko jaane bhi do yaaro. From the cutely quaint, Bollywood has moved — no fun intended — to in-your-face friction.
Like the birds and the bees, everyone’s doing it, including Yash-Aditya Chopra’s factory of chiffony romances. Be it the banner’s Band Baaja Baaraat or Lafangey Parindey, romps through the mustard fields have been replaced by feverish bouts of necking. Times, and the dilwale dulhanias, they are a changin’.
Startlingly, Ekta Kapoor has become a champion of the New Age sensuality. Those head-to-toe covered dowagers and dollies in Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and spin-off TV serials have been exiled to a retirement home. Instead, the Balaji Telefilms czarina has initiated a series of sensation-seeking sex movies, beginning with Love Sex aur Dhoka. And there’s the just-released voyeurfest — Ragini MMS — inspired by the true story of a New Delhi girl whose tell-all video clip was exploited by her boyfriend. The sleaze is sought to be enhanced by horror effects straight out of Paranormal Activity. Sex and horror? Perhaps Sasurs Bhi Kabhi Sex Maniacs The.
Evidently, Ekta Kapoor believes that the combo sells faster than salt-‘n’-caramel popcorn. Hence Dirty Picture, a biopic of Silk Smitha, the steamy sex symbol of the 1980s, is in the works. The project has been dignified, to a degree, by the casting of A-lister Vidya Balan as the actress who committed suicide at the age of 35 in 1996. Already objections have been raised by a Tamil filmmaker who has apprehensions that the life of Silk Smitha may be distorted. Ekta Kapoor seems to be chilled out though. After all, controversy is perfect for hellzapoppin’ ticket sales.
Meanwhile, publicity stills of Emraan Hashmi, who has the dubious distinction of being Bollywood’s Kisser No. 1, are being splashed in the media for the upcoming Murder 2. Exit Mallika Sherawat, enter Jacqueline Fernandes in the sequel. Producers Mahesh and Mukesh Bhatt continue with their sexcentric products, quite clued in to the market demand for such medium-budget crowd-pleasers. And news is that a follow-up to Jism, which made Bipasha Basu the nation’s prime hotty, is being planned by Pooja Bhatt.
Wild passion with a jailbird jumping into an autorickshaw to gobsmack his wife was evidenced in Yeh Saali Zindagi. As for the upcoming Shaitan, produced by the guru of frankspeak, it is being promoted with a still of Kalki Koechlin engaged in a same-gender kiss. Imran Khan, despite his squeaky Walt Disney-like image, gets right down and dirty in the soon-to-be-released Delhi Belly, produced by his normally clean-cut uncle Aamir Khan. Oh oh, you may remember Uncle Khan for getting physical with his Karisma Kapoor in Raja Hindustani or spewing jaw-breaking violence in Ghajini, but he’s still largely associated with the do-gooder acts of Taare Zameen Par, not to forget 3 Idiots.
The point is that for sure sex is leaping out of the closet in Bollywood. The movies are no longer fuddy-duddy, wallowing in Victorian morality. Yet, the thumbs up by the censors to a fair amount of permissiveness has to be viewed with caution. Bedroom scenes aren’t always filmed with a naturalness or restraint the way they are abroad. Example: a scene depicting same-gender lovemaking between Annette Bening and Julianne Moore in the Kids are All Right. Every element from the dialogue, the camera lighting and the sound have to be balanced, to prevent vulgarity.
While some films like Rang Rasiya — the biopic of artist Raja Ravi Varma — have succeeded in handling sex and even nudity with artistry, the Emraan Hashmi movies tend to be cheesy. And Ekta Kapoor’s affair with the sex movie genre, is obviously exploitative. If this is what the audience wants, give it to them up, close and impersonal.
Sex, cricket and the movies sell like hot cakes, it’s believed. Going by the new trend in show town, though, how about giving viewers oven-fresh bread first instead of cherry cakes?