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Hindustan Times
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Missing from the frame: Bollywood's female icons
Noticed how Bollywood's leading men are getting the full docu-series treatment lately? The Romantics went back to the chiffon-wrapped dreamscape of Yash Chopra's cinema. The Roshans traced the legacy of a family that shaped both melody and muscle in Hindi films. And Angry Young Men, a series about Salim-Javed, debuted to over 2.3 million views on Prime Video in its first week, becoming the platform's top non-fiction show. Several male stars have gotten the docu-series treatment. Why not Madhuri Dixit Nene or Sridevi? (INSTAGRAM/@MADHURIDIXITNENE) Now, guess how many views the show about Padma Vibhushan Vyjayanthimala Bali garnered? None, because it doesn't exist. You know what else doesn't exist? A deep dive into Rekha's decades of reinvention, a tribute to Waheeda Rehman's or Asha Parekh's craft, a rewind of Silk Smitha's magnetism, a chronicle of Sridevi's eras, or even a global lens on Priyanka Chopra Jonas. Despite more than a century of Indian cinema, no one's telling the women's side of the stories. Film journalist Bhawana Somaaya, 69, has been tracking Indian cinema for almost half a century, and has written 20 books on the subject (including books on the Bachchans and a biography of Hema Malini). She knows there's a bonanza in waiting for anyone who wants to put women's stories on screen. It's the streaming networks that don't seem to be interested. 'Netflix and Amazon Prime are the ones making the documentaries,' she says. 'They think focusing on female power won't work.' Biopics centred on a woman tend to be underfunded. But The Romantics had 35 industry heavyweights. Most decision makers believe that audiences want young faces, recycled plots, the comfort of endless sequels and stories about successful men, Somaaya says. 'The audience is ready to embrace something new.' And done right, a documentary about Parveen Babi's inner world or Helen's impact on today's item numbers can offer new insights into an industry desperately seeking to reinvent itself. The other hitch: Decision-makers in writers' rooms and production houses tend to be under 40. 'Nobody wants to hire anyone over 50. That's a loss of wisdom, perspective and objectivity.' Even if an idea slips past, a biopic centred on a woman tends to be underfunded. Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl, Mary Kom and Shabaash Mithu struggled to get made. Meanwhile, 35 industry heavyweights featured in The Romantics. Angry Young Men was championed by Salim-Javed's children. The Roshans used their series to give their own brands a future. Somaaya says that women tend not to show similar ambitions. 'Hema Malini also has daughters. They don't have the time to push this,' she points out. We would love a global lens on Priyanka Chopra Jonas or a deep dive into Rekha's decades of reinvention. (SHUTTERSTOCK) It means that the stories we don't tell now, are the stories that the public won't remember years from now. Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari, 45, writer-director of Nil Battey Sannata and Panga, says women are still largely invisible in the filmmaking machinery, as they are in other spheres of life. 'Even when a woman cooks a great meal, she'll say that her husband or family liked it, so it must be good. Not that she made something great.' She recalls how, when her first film, Nil Battey Sannata, came out, people assumed her husband Nitesh Tiwari had directed it. He was livid and had to clarify he wasn't even on set. 'For me too, it took time to say 'Yes, I did this. I'm hardworking and good at what I do'.' That silence shapes how women see their own work and how the world sees theirs. Iyer Tiwari won the Filmfare Award for Best Director for the romantic comedy-drama Bareilly Ki Barfi in 2017. She's directing a film about the love story of Narayana and Sudha Murthy. But she routinely gets introduced as, 'Nitesh Tiwari's wife.' No wonder we're not making documentaries about women, we're not noticing their accomplishments in the first place. From HT Brunch, July 26, 2025 Follow us on
Mint
11-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Mint
Pritam and Anurag Basu's enduring musical partnership
Zico Ghosh As Hindi cinema retreats from music, director Anurag Basu and composer Pritam continue to build films around it A still from 'Jagga Jasoos' Gift this article In Hindi cinema, where full-fledged song sequences are quietly vanishing, Anurag Basu and Pritam remain proudly defiant. Their director-composer partnership—now two decades strong—has not just endured but deepened with time. Instead of chasing trends, they've doubled down on musicality. Their latest, Metro In Dino (released on 4 July), features more than 20 songs spread across two volumes. Half of them appear in the film as musical-style numbers—where characters sing their feelings instead of speaking them—a form Basu fully embraced in his misunderstood passion project Jagga Jasoos (2017). In Hindi cinema, where full-fledged song sequences are quietly vanishing, Anurag Basu and Pritam remain proudly defiant. Their director-composer partnership—now two decades strong—has not just endured but deepened with time. Instead of chasing trends, they've doubled down on musicality. Their latest, Metro In Dino (released on 4 July), features more than 20 songs spread across two volumes. Half of them appear in the film as musical-style numbers—where characters sing their feelings instead of speaking them—a form Basu fully embraced in his misunderstood passion project Jagga Jasoos (2017). Pritam may be known as a certified hit-machine, but it's with Basu that he is at his most experimental and playful. And whether it's Basu's darker phase pre-Barfi (2012) or his current brand of whimsy, Pritam has been there to give musical form to his ideas. (The only time Basu and Pritam did not work together was when the director was commissioned by the Roshans to make the 2010 film Kites). Two days after Metro In Dino released, Lounge caught up with the duo over Zoom. Edited excerpts from the interview: How did you two first meet? Pritam: I had just finished FTII (Film and Television Institute of India) and was living in a 1RK in Thakur village, Kandivali. I'd set up a makeshift studio there. One day, a school friend called and said, 'You have to make a ghost song for a serial. It needs to be delivered in an hour." The director was Anurag. Kamlesh, who was writing the show, saw Anurag walk in wearing a red gamchha. This must have been around 1999 or 2000. Pritam: Could be. That was my first memory of Anurag. Later, we did a lot of serials together—Manzilen Apni Apni, and others. Basu: I still remember that tiny kitchen studio of yours— like 6x6ft—where you'd hung haanris (cooking vessels) to create reverb. Pritam: And egg shells. I'd keep the speaker inside the haanri to boost bass—a trick from hostel days. What was the serial with the ghost song? Basu: I don't even remember the name or the channel. We were doing Gosaibaganer Bhoot, I think. A bunch of different ghosts singing together — very weird and fun. So 'Gangster' came much later. Pritam: Yeah, we had done quite a few shows before Gangster (2006). He was always busy. I remember Saraswati Puja in his old office. We were neighbours too, which helped. Basu: I'd come home from work, call him and say, 'Up? Come down, let's have adda." Pritam: There was this park in Vasant Galaxy between two wings with a swing—that's where I heard the scripts for Metro, Gangster… You've worked together on films as varied as 'Gangster', 'Jagga Jasoos' and 'Life in a Metro'. What's your process? Basu: Ever since I met Pritam, I've been pretending I have music sense. Pritam: Lies! And I pretend I understand scripts. That's how it works. Basu: Pritam does whatever he wants. Pritam: Not true—I blindly follow Anurag. His briefs are clear and instinctive. Basu: We hardly clash. We share the same ideas of right and wrong, good and bad. Pritam: Also, there's shared musical history. For instance, Prithibi—by the Bengali band Mohiner Ghoraguli—or James, the Bangladeshi artist, Anurag already knew them. That blew my mind. He's from Bhilai, and yet he followed Bangla bands. During Ludo, he gave me a reference from Basu Chatterjee's films—a favourite of mine, which turned out to be one of his too. We speak the same musical language. What kind of music do you listen to, Anurag? Basu: Everything. Any genre, any language. Pritam: He's musically very updated. Whatever's happening globally, he's on top of it. His thought process is very youthful. Many artists I love now, I discovered through him. Was there any pushback to making 'Metro In Dino' almost a semi-musical? Basu: We discussed it. The first 10 minutes are crucial—it sets the tone. Some people may feel lost, but it introduces the characters and tells you what kind of film it is. Pritam: He broke the fourth wall right at the start. It was gutsy. Basu: When Pritam first played me the songs, it was in Bengali. He usually composes in Bengali first. Pritam: I need rough lyrics to sketch melody—mostly gibberish Bengali, sometimes Urdu. It's phonetic. Pritam and (right) Anurag Basu Are you drawing from Indian storytelling traditions more than Western ones? Basu: Totally. Our films have always been musicals—even 1970s-1980s films had characters conversing through songs. We draw from traditions like jatra, nautanki, pandavani. Songs as storytelling. Pritam: Today's filmmakers seem to lack confidence in that form. But we believe in it. Basu: (Satyajit Ray's) Hirak Rajar Deshe is a huge inspiration. It shaped our childhoods. Do you see 'Barfi' as a turning point? It seems to have unlocked something in both of you. Pritam: For both of us, yes. Anurag was more angsty before. Post-Barfi, his tone shifted—sweeter, more hopeful. Basu: Barfi softened the darkness in my films. Pritam: I was stuck in a certain industry loop before Barfi. It opened up my head. KK and Irrfan Khan were integral to 'Life in a Metro'. Did their absence affect this film? Basu: Yes. Dil Ka Kya would have surely been sung by him—no one can replace KK. Pritam: KK had that rare mix—massy, rock, sweet, balladic. Now Arijit can carry that zone, but KK was special. Basu: Irrfan came to my office terrace once for a smoke and said, 'Make 'Metro 2'. I want to take my character forward." That planted the seed. You've named Pankaj Tripathi's character Monty—the same name Irrfan had in 'Life in a Metro'. Basu: When I sent the script to Koko (Konkona Sen Sharma), the character was originally named Debu or something like that. She read it and asked me to call him Monty. It was entirely her suggestion, and a brilliant one. Tell us about the 'ghazal'-rock blend in 'Metro In Dino'. Pritam: What we did in the original Metro was pure rock— grungy, guitar-driven. But globally, even bands like Coldplay and Imagine Dragons have shifted to alt-rock, blending in synths and other instruments. That raw rock sound isn't exciting anymore—and even alt-rock has become overused in films. So we asked: what feels fresh now? And the answer was ghazals—reimagined through rock and pop. Zamaana Lage is an old ghazal sung by many. So is Yaad by Momin Khan Momin. One version of Zamaana was bluesy, one like John Mayer. We picked the pop version for wider reach. Basu: We had explored a bit of that in Ludo too, but didn't have enough room to go deeper. Pritam: We tried a ghazal-meets-EDM sound in Ludo, with tracks like Aabaad Barbaad and Hardum Har Pal. We'd label early drafts Ghazal EDM 1, 2, and so on. It's not pure ghazal, more like nazm with electronic textures. Over time, that sound crept into the mainstream. You can hear hints of it in Besharam Rang and Aaj Ki Raat. You've retained certain musical elements from 'Life in a Metro', like that zitar-like sound in 'Metro In Dino'. Pritam: That is a zitar, played by Niladri Kumar. Basu: And there's a little riff in there that's mine. Pritam: We had to rope Niladri in again—couldn't imagine a Metro sequel without him. I told him, 'You have to do this—it won't be complete without your zitar." He'd just wrapped a show at 10.30pm, came to the studio at 11.30, and played all night. He was such a key part of the first Metro—his leads in In Dino and Rishtey are unforgettable. Was 'Metro In Dino' always meant to be a quasi-musical? Basu: Even before Jagga Jasoos, I had started thinking of Metro as a musical. I just couldn't crack the story back then. So that musical instinct ended up in Jagga instead. But the original impulse was always with Metro. When I finally returned to it, I knew I had to keep that semi-musical structure, just dialled it down a bit to avoid indulgence. In a way, that's a continuation of what you did in 'Life in a Metro', where the band was like a 'sutradhar'. Basu: Absolutely. Pritam: I remember him saying — if Metro is evolving, Metro 2 has to upgrade that language. This film is the next step—the band is still there, but now the storytelling itself has become more musical. What's it like composing for a musical vs a regular film? Pritam: It's way more exciting. In regular films, you compose to fit a scene. Here, you build an entire soundscape. Even in Barfi, the whole film was designed sonically. Basu: I have said this before: in this Metro, I have shot scenes between Pritam's songs. Zico Ghosh is a Kolkata-based journalist. Topics You May Be Interested In
