The National Film Development Corporation of India was established
by the Indian government as a deliberate attempt to raise the standard
of popular taste in cinema by helping to finance and distribute films
that are considered of more “artistic merit” than Bollywood’s usual
output. It didn’t work, of course. Bollywood is just as populist,
moralistic, and melodramatic as ever, though the production values have
risen considerably. Still, the NFDC has produced some interesting
films, including Maya Memsaab (1992).
Maya is adapted from the novel Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert. Not adapted in the usual Bollywood sense of lifting as much as possible from the original work and hoping the finished product doesn’t violate India’s (fairly relaxed) copyright laws; the opening credits mention the novel prominently, and Flaubert is given a writing credit for the film, despite being long dead. The plot of the film mirrors that of the novel closely, with one significant addition that I’ll get to later.
As the film opens, Maya (Deepa Sahi) is dead, and her story unfolds in a series of flashbacks as the police interview the various men in her life. Maya grew up in a crumbling mansion with only her father and her books for company. When she marries the recently widowed Dr. Charu Das (Farooq Shaikh), she’s happy at first, but grows steadily more disenchanted when her new life fails to live up to her romantic fantasies; she’s especially disappointed when, after faking her own grisly demise, Charu’s first instinct is to phone the police rather than to promptly attempt suicide.
Because of this disenchantment, she first becomes depressed, and then drifts into adultery, first with Thakur Rudra Pratap Singh (Raj Babbar) and then with Lalit (Shahrukh Khan), nephew of the local pharmacist. All the while, she’s also buying luxuries on credit from Lalloji (Paresh Rawal), not giving a thought as to what will happen when payment becomes due.
Needless to say, this is not a typical Bollywood movie. Maya is both an adulteress and a neglectful mother, but still presented as a sympathetic character. There’s only one plot, and it develops at a languid pace, rather than the usual “they meet, and now they don’t like each other, but now they’re in love, and now the monkey is driving the car!” There are songs, but the songs are clearly presented as Maya’s fantasies, rather than connecting to (let alone driving) actual events within the film. The acting is restrained and naturalistic, with Maya frequently expressing herself through internal monologues (which are, sadly, often not subtitled.) Even the cinematography is different; the entire film is suffused with a pale white light, which bleaches the color out of everything, adding to the languid and dreamlike atmosphere.
More surprisingly, Maya and Lalit have a lengthy sex scene. By Western standards, the scene is fairly tame, but it’s quite explicit for an Indian film, including a lingering shot of Maya’s naked breast as viewed from the side. Having been on a steady diet of Bollywood lately, I was quite taken aback. After watching the film, I took a closer look at the film’s certification card, and it is rated “Adult”, so I suppose I have no one to blame but myself.
The only really “filmi” thing about Maya Memsaab is Shahrukh’s performance. As Lalit, he displays most of the usual SRK quirks, but within the naturalistic world of the film, the effect is quite different. Lalit is just as passionate and devoted as the usual SRK romantic hero, but with one key difference: Lalit doesn’t worry about the ‘proper way” to get what he wants. He doesn’t balk for a second at romancing a married woman, and he’s certainly not the type to put off the conclusion of a romance until he can receive his beloved from the hand of her own father. Lalit just wants Maya, and he doesn’t care how he gets her. Now, this doesn’t make him an evil person, but it certainly doesn’t make him a hero, either; he’s careless, and that makes him dangerous.
Casting Shahrukh was a remarkable stroke of luck. He wasn’t a big star at the time, and the producers had no way of knowing that he’d rise to become the King of Bollywood through just the sort of frothy romances that Maya is so enthralled by. It’s certainly not intentional, but his future career adds an extra element to the performance. (And even though his role in Maya Memsaab is a supporting one, and he’s among the last of the actors to be named in the credits, the DVD box features a huge picture of him, proudly announces “Starring Shahrukh Khan”, and does not mention anyone else in the cast.)
As I mentioned earlier, there is one significant departure from the plot of Madame Bovary. Early in the film, a street vendor is hawking assorted mystical potions outside of Maya’s house. One of the things he’s selling is an “Elixir of Wishes”; if someone with a pure heart drinks from it, he will get his wish, but of the heart isn’t pure he will receive a terrible curse. When the vendor is arrested, the pharmacist takes the elixir, and it’s not too much of a spoiler to say that in the end it’s Maya who drinks. The film tries to create a little ambiguity about whether Maya’s heart is pure or not; by the end of the film she’s wishing to escape her life entirely, and that’s what she seems to get (though the narrator at the end is a bit unreliable.) Still, Maya betrays and financially ruins her husband (the only man who truly mourns her death) simply because her life doesn’t measure up to her fantasies. Maya is a sympathetic character. I like her. But pure-hearted she‘s not. I’m going to have to side with popular Indian taste on this one.
Maya is adapted from the novel Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert. Not adapted in the usual Bollywood sense of lifting as much as possible from the original work and hoping the finished product doesn’t violate India’s (fairly relaxed) copyright laws; the opening credits mention the novel prominently, and Flaubert is given a writing credit for the film, despite being long dead. The plot of the film mirrors that of the novel closely, with one significant addition that I’ll get to later.
As the film opens, Maya (Deepa Sahi) is dead, and her story unfolds in a series of flashbacks as the police interview the various men in her life. Maya grew up in a crumbling mansion with only her father and her books for company. When she marries the recently widowed Dr. Charu Das (Farooq Shaikh), she’s happy at first, but grows steadily more disenchanted when her new life fails to live up to her romantic fantasies; she’s especially disappointed when, after faking her own grisly demise, Charu’s first instinct is to phone the police rather than to promptly attempt suicide.
Because of this disenchantment, she first becomes depressed, and then drifts into adultery, first with Thakur Rudra Pratap Singh (Raj Babbar) and then with Lalit (Shahrukh Khan), nephew of the local pharmacist. All the while, she’s also buying luxuries on credit from Lalloji (Paresh Rawal), not giving a thought as to what will happen when payment becomes due.
Needless to say, this is not a typical Bollywood movie. Maya is both an adulteress and a neglectful mother, but still presented as a sympathetic character. There’s only one plot, and it develops at a languid pace, rather than the usual “they meet, and now they don’t like each other, but now they’re in love, and now the monkey is driving the car!” There are songs, but the songs are clearly presented as Maya’s fantasies, rather than connecting to (let alone driving) actual events within the film. The acting is restrained and naturalistic, with Maya frequently expressing herself through internal monologues (which are, sadly, often not subtitled.) Even the cinematography is different; the entire film is suffused with a pale white light, which bleaches the color out of everything, adding to the languid and dreamlike atmosphere.
More surprisingly, Maya and Lalit have a lengthy sex scene. By Western standards, the scene is fairly tame, but it’s quite explicit for an Indian film, including a lingering shot of Maya’s naked breast as viewed from the side. Having been on a steady diet of Bollywood lately, I was quite taken aback. After watching the film, I took a closer look at the film’s certification card, and it is rated “Adult”, so I suppose I have no one to blame but myself.
The only really “filmi” thing about Maya Memsaab is Shahrukh’s performance. As Lalit, he displays most of the usual SRK quirks, but within the naturalistic world of the film, the effect is quite different. Lalit is just as passionate and devoted as the usual SRK romantic hero, but with one key difference: Lalit doesn’t worry about the ‘proper way” to get what he wants. He doesn’t balk for a second at romancing a married woman, and he’s certainly not the type to put off the conclusion of a romance until he can receive his beloved from the hand of her own father. Lalit just wants Maya, and he doesn’t care how he gets her. Now, this doesn’t make him an evil person, but it certainly doesn’t make him a hero, either; he’s careless, and that makes him dangerous.
Casting Shahrukh was a remarkable stroke of luck. He wasn’t a big star at the time, and the producers had no way of knowing that he’d rise to become the King of Bollywood through just the sort of frothy romances that Maya is so enthralled by. It’s certainly not intentional, but his future career adds an extra element to the performance. (And even though his role in Maya Memsaab is a supporting one, and he’s among the last of the actors to be named in the credits, the DVD box features a huge picture of him, proudly announces “Starring Shahrukh Khan”, and does not mention anyone else in the cast.)
As I mentioned earlier, there is one significant departure from the plot of Madame Bovary. Early in the film, a street vendor is hawking assorted mystical potions outside of Maya’s house. One of the things he’s selling is an “Elixir of Wishes”; if someone with a pure heart drinks from it, he will get his wish, but of the heart isn’t pure he will receive a terrible curse. When the vendor is arrested, the pharmacist takes the elixir, and it’s not too much of a spoiler to say that in the end it’s Maya who drinks. The film tries to create a little ambiguity about whether Maya’s heart is pure or not; by the end of the film she’s wishing to escape her life entirely, and that’s what she seems to get (though the narrator at the end is a bit unreliable.) Still, Maya betrays and financially ruins her husband (the only man who truly mourns her death) simply because her life doesn’t measure up to her fantasies. Maya is a sympathetic character. I like her. But pure-hearted she‘s not. I’m going to have to side with popular Indian taste on this one.
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