
Just how happy does the image above make you? Share your elation in the comments section. I'm simply over the moon. I'm going to be talking about this for the next three months. Full Oscar postmortem coming soon...
I originally wasn't planning on posting any predictions, but I have nothing to do until the Red Carpet Specials start popping up in a couple of hours. Anyways, it's fun to look back on these posts years later and reflect on the excitement, impatience and vote-flopping indecision that precedes each telecast. Much luck to you on your picks: may all of your favourites win. Unless they aren't the same as mine. Then you're on your own.
Ashutosh Gowariker's Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India (2001) is perhaps one of the most visible and oft-celebrated Indian films ever made, and for good reason. Even those moviegoers largely unfamiliar with cinema from South Asia can still make reference to that "long Indian movie about cricket". The film is a rare specimen in that it was able to enchant audiences and critics alike, scoring mightily at the box office in India, winning every national award in sight, and riding that ecstatic word of mouth all the way to the 2002 Oscars (it is only the third film from India to receive a Foreign Language Film nomination, alongside Mother India and Salaam Bombay.) Unabashedly steeped in the conventions of commercial Bollywood cinema (a near-four hour running time, musical dance numbers, unrepentant melodrama), the film also serves as an impressive critical intervention in South Asian historiography without ever becoming inaccessible or lofty. In fact, the temptation to simplistically (even condescendingly) frame it as a Bollywoodized "David versus Goliath" feel-good cricket fable has been so tempting that many have overlooked the significant implications made about colonial India, native resistance and the long road to Independence in 1947. For this reason, I open with Guha's tremendously influential words because they hint at the lens through Gowariker represents and gives a voice to the ignored subaltern. Call it the anti-Gandhi if you will: these agrarian farmers of Champaner resist not with swords and fists in the tradition of those mindlessly violent and easily swayed masses, but with cricket bats and a fierce determination to resist imperialist greed.
Lest one forget, this is also a through-and-through musical, with six such interludes sprinkled throughout. However, these enchanting songs (composed by South Indian maestro A. R. Rahman) play an active role in pushing the narrative forward, and are not employed as burdensome time wasters. The stunningly choreographed "Ghanan Ghanan" is a show stopper in which the entire village celebrates in anticipation of a thirst-quenching and crop-saving rainstorm which never quite comes. In "Mitwa O Mitwa", Bhuvan sings a song of camaraderie, empowerment and hope in order to convince fellow villagers to join the gilli danda team (some choice lyrics: "Listen, O my friend, what is this fear you have? This earth is ours, and so is the sky!"). "Chale Chalo" is a rousing, percussion-heavy call-to-arms (or call-to-cricket-bats) in which the villagers prepare for the fateful game. And in my favourite song and dance sequence, "Radha Kaise Na Jale" (translated roughly as "How can Radha not be jealous?") Bhuvan and Gauri playfully act out the courtship of the goddess Radha by the Lord Krishna. She doubts his dedication due to his roaming eye for the gopis (cow-herding village girls), while he maintains that her jealousy is utterly unfounded. Of course, Gauri's invocation of Radha here is a thinly-veiled cover for her suspicion that Bhuvan has fallen in love with Elizabeth. It is not far-fetched to argue that deleting the songs for non-Indian audiences in an effort to lessen the running time (a rumour circulated during awards season of that year) would severely hurt the film. At many theatrical screenings, it was not uncommon to hear applause, cheers and whistles after each song.
Even more fascinating are the screenplay's flirtations with Occidentalist characterizations and reverse Other constructions. While Blackthorne's sneering Captain Russell essentially embodies colonial greed and violence, his sister Elizabeth is so committed to aiding Bhuvan and the villagers that she actually fantasizes about becoming a part of their community (prancing around in full gagra choli, no less!) In one of the film's winsome musical numbers "O Rey Chori", in which Bhuvan finally confesses his true feelings to Gauri, Elizabeth imagines a happy life as Bhuvan's wife and sings:
Aamir Khan has always been a captivating and winsome performer, who had appeared in many late '80s and '90s romantic blockbusters prior to Lagaan. But until this collaboration with Gowariker, the steel in his eyes and the earnesty in his voice had never been showcased to such effective ends. Bhuvan, with his faultless personality, socially-progressive ideas and ever-good intentions, is not the most exciting or textured character on paper. However, Khan makes him a magnetic force, whether staring down his opponents or raising morale in his fellow teammates. In a lesser film with a less discerning actress, Gracy Singh's Gauri probably would have been relegated completely the sidelines, only appearing for a dance number when necessary. Thankfully, she is a constant presence throughout the entire film. Her character is the first to embrace Bhuvan's ambitious project, and she insists on attending all the training sessions to lend support and input. While there may be an element of misogyny in how she repeatedly falls into fits of jealousy every time Bhuvan interacts with Elizabeth ("Tell me Bhuvan, why is that White Witch willing to help you?"), Singh is able to amazingly evade caricature. She is also an expert comedian, and her full expressive eyes are certainly her greatest asset here: consider the hysterical scenes in which she worriedly spies on Bhuvan and Elizabeth discussing cricket rules.
Rachel Shelley is compassionate and moving as a British woman struggling with her allegiance and identity as an outsider wanting in. Much credit should go to the actor for convincing us that a powerful and elevated woman of status in that period, with its norms about racial hierarchy, could fall in love with an Indian peasant farmer. Paul Blackthorne's Captain Russell is not afforded much dimension beyond hatred of all things Indian, but he sneers and condescends fittingly. A cast of established character actors round out the Champaner gilli danda team, special notice going to Raghuvir Yadav as a frazzled chicken farmer and booming Rajesh Vivek as the opinionated village seer, who provides superb comic relief. Meanwhile, Rajendranath Zutshi hints at a fascinating back story as Muslim Ismayeel with his limited screen time, and Yashpal Sharma's expressions are always priceless. Also deserving of special mention is Javed Singh as conflicted Ram Singh, a servant in the Raja's palace, who allows us to understand how Indians placed in positions of authority over their fellow countrymen face complicated realities about loyalty and kinship.
As such, I'm not so comfortable with my predicted winners list as it stands presently. Is it really going to be Christie, Day-Lewis, Dee and Bardem yapping away at the podium on Oscar night? This thought occurred to me while submitting a comment for Adam's musings on this year's Supporting Actress race. Even in the most monotonous "locked and loaded" years, there has been slight variation between SAG and AMPAS's choices. Let's look at the facts...