Indian fashion's greatest hits

Parliamo di moda indiana. Quali sono i capi assolutamente irrinunciabili? Eccoli illustrati nell'articolo Indian fashion's greatest hits, di Yashica Dutt, pubblicato oggi da Brunch:

Abito Suneet Varma

'The corset blouse - Introduced by Suneet Varma in 1992

It was the ’90s and India was trending on the global fashion scene. Madonna had discovered mehndi (cue the 1998 video of Frozen); Gwen Stefani, with an Indian boyfriend as her favourite arm accessory (Tony Ashwin Kanal, co-member on the band No Doubt), was taking a go at bindis and saris; and Indo-Western was the cultural scrawl on every wall. It was an opportune time for Suneet Varma to showcase his metallic breast plate (with a sari) which soon morphed into a corset blouse. “I showcased it in my first collection in 1992, inspired by my corsetry training in France,” recalls Varma. “It really struck a chord at that time because I realised that women like things that celebrate their sexuality, yet contain them perfectly. And that’s exactly what the corset blouse did.” (...) An entire generation wore it with saris, lehengas, skirts, jeans and shorts. (It’s still around). But its biggest success lay in the wedding market, where it became the blouse-that-wasn’t-a-blouse. Every actress wore it. (...) This Victorian undergarment, originally viewed as a form of bondage, turned into a trend that altered the Indian wedding costume forever. Twenty five years later, Varma still includes at least one corset in every show even though the material has changed from metal and satin to polyester taffeta and stretch lace (the latter’s lycra-esque properties effectively eliminate the stiffness and discomfort associated with a corset). “There are so many badly made copies floating around in the market that I often feel bad for the women wearing them. They end up flattening the bosom as opposed to enhancing it like corsets should,” says Varma.

Kareena Kapoor (abito Manish Malhotra)

The sexy sari - Introduced by Manish Malhotra in 2000

The sari is back in fashion. Not that it ever really went out. But it did get banished to the neglected recesses of women’s closets, only to be aired at weddings or formal functions. And then it came out, in a slinky, glamorous reincarnation as the sexy sari - worn with deep-cut, cleavage-baring blouses - in fabrics like net, satin, chiffon and lace. The man responsible for its rebirth was Manish Malhotra, who, after giving Cinderalla-esque makeovers to Urmila Matondkar in Rangeela (1995) and Karisma Kapoor in Raja Hindustani (1996), showcased his sexy saris on the runway in 2000 and gave India its hottest party outfit. “I was really inspired by the delicate saris of the ’60s and the chiffon saris in Yash Chopra movies,” says Malhotra. “So when I started doing clothes, I removed the clutter of embellishments that we saw in saris of the ’80s, made them sensuous by using fabrics like chiffon, satin and net and brought in pastel colours, tangerine and icy blue. It changed the way people looked at a sari.” That Malhotra’s biggest endorsement came from Kareena Kapoor, who is often seen wearing slinky cocktail saris, helped too. Today, a sexy sari doesn’t necessarily come from his brand anymore. With net, chiffon and satin gaining immense popularity on their own, armies of women are getting customised saris, with Malhotra’s designs (that are all over the Internet) providing the requisite mood-board.

Abito Ritu Kumar

Zardozi embroidery - Introduced by Ritu Kumar in 1973

If it wasn’t for Ritu Kumar, our elaborate, lavish, ethnic costumes would be embroidered in plastic thread on cheap base fabric. Because that’s how zardozi looked in the early ’70s, when Kumar chanced upon the original technique in miniature Mughal paintings. Zardozi was actually fine embroidery in gold and silver thread on fabrics like satin and silk, favoured by the kings, queens and the aristocracy of the Mughal era. By the time Kumar stumbled upon it, karigars [artigiani] had resorted to using plastic thread for the embroidery and zardozi was on its way to becoming a dying art. “At that time, there was no ready-to-wear bridal range of clothes,” says Kumar. “People went to Benaras to source saris or to Rajasthan to get lehengas. Back then, there were almost no garments for us to refer to, apart from a few museum pieces or clothes that people had inherited. So we were like barefoot doctors, venturing into the interiors of the country, looking for craftsmen and experimenting with techniques. But we didn’t know where we would sell. There were no set parameters.” Little did Kumar know that this style of embellishment would eventually become one of the biggest fashion exports of the country, launch industries and become the source of livelihood for thousands of karigars. Zardozi might be synonymous with wedding finery, but it has now made its way to every swathe of fabric you can imagine, from home accessories, bags and shoes to even furniture.

T-shirt Manish Arora

God-printed t-shirts - Introduced by Manish Arora in 1997

It was so bad that it was cool. When Manish Arora burst on the Indian fashion universe with various saturated prints of technicolour Indian gods and wild street art in 1997, everyone was taken aback. “They would say, ‘This is all good but who’s going to wear it?’” says Arora of the initial reactions to his controversial T-shirts, the Big Bang moment for Indian kitsch. It is a movement that has since exploded to overcome almost every area of design in the country, from restaurant interiors to theme weddings and home furnishings. (...) Arora recalls that it all started with a trip to Kinari Bazar in Delhi. “It was so colourful with god statues and their big eyes, groom garlands made out of rupee notes, synthetic materials and bright fabrics. I put all of that on the ramp. It was a big risk, no one had done it before.”

Sonam Kapoor (abito Jani-Khosla)

The Anarkali - Introduced by Abu Jani-Sandeep Khosla in 1988

If, a few years ago, someone had mentioned the word ‘Anarkali’ to you, your mind would have conjured up images of a beautiful Mughal courtesan. But today, what comes to mind is an inverted pomegranate-shaped silhouette that is ostensibly the Indian version of a ball gown. Popularised by Hindi television shows, worn by every socialite on carpets of varied colours, hawked on fashion e-commerce websites as the fastest-selling item of the day, the Anarkali has moved into India’s wardrobes as a resident staple, at least for now. Abu Jani-Sandeep Khosla showcased the contemporary Anarkali at their first show in 1988. It was constructed by cutting three gold-bordered Kerala cotton saris and was 52 inches long. “We were hugely inspired by Meena Kumari’s costumes in Pakeezah and created floor-length Anarkalis which were worn by Jaya Bachchan,” (...) says one half of the duo, Sandeep Khosla. “They were an instant hit because of the grand statement they made and the ease of movement they allowed. Then magazines and newspapers picked it up and the trend took on a life of its own.” The trend has seen variations by almost every designer, most notably by Manish Malhotra, whose red-carpet Anarkali appearances by Bollywood actresses created a new level of frenzy for the garment.

Abito Monisha Jaising

The kurti - Introduced by Monisha Jaising in 1998 (...)

Adapted as beach wear, a barbeque party staple and termed as the ‘Indian embroidered tunic’, the kurti, which was reinvented by Monisha Jaising, has been fashion’s greatest hit not just in India but all over the world. (...) “In 1998, I was sitting at my drawing board trying to come up with something that women could wear with jeans to a temple,” says Jaising. “And then I came up with a kurta-like silhouette which had the same embroidery as you would see on a kurta but was shorter in length and cut closer to the body. The first kurti was in mul fabric.” Once she started retailing her kurti at a store called Scoop in New York, the figure-forgiving silhouette was picked up everywhere. It has since evolved into kurti dresses, kaftans with belts and was one of the biggest trends of early 2000s. “It became like a classic white shirt or a little black dress. Everyone had their own version,” grins Jaising.

Completo Rajesh Pratap Singh

The pintucked kurta - Introduced by Rajesh Pratap Singh in 1997

Brocades had taken over, embroidery was creeping into every wardrobe and clothes were swimming in a mad swirl of colour. Then in 1997, the quiet, powerful minimalism of Rajesh Pratap Singh’s pintucks took over. Inspired by the classic banker’s stripes, he created a series of shirts and kurtas for men and women with 3D strips of pintucks (narrow folds of fabric sewn in place) running along their length. It soon became the uniform of the working woman in India. "People were looking for a cleaner texture, an alternative to embroidery that worked well as daywear (cotton) and evening wear (silk). Pintucked kurtas filled that space," says Singh. Popularised by Fabindia, pintucked kurtas also surfaced as the no-fuss choice for students in Delhi and Mumbai'.

Irrfan Khan: I object to the term Bollywood

Irrfan Khan in D-Day

Vi segnalo l'intervista concessa da Irrfan Khan a Nosheen Iqbal, pubblicata ieri da The Guardian. Irrfan Khan: 'I object to the term Bollywood':

'It's a shock (...) when he emerges from the hotel lift, the elevator ping cheesily announcing his megawatt smile. [Irrfan] Khan is (...) good-looking. True, (...) he is head-turningly handsome: tall, lean, raffish, chiselled. (...) The second surprise is that he's funny - in a dry, deadpan way that is all about the delivery. "You're an entertainment writer, then?" he says by way of introductory small talk. "It's culture, really," comes my prissy mumble. "Ah, yes, culture. Hmm. Which isn't entertaining at all, is it?" And we're off. (...) He is here for the season's flagship event: a masterclass at the BFI with Asif Kapadia, the director Khan gratefully credits for saving his career when, in the late 90s, he was considering quitting.

"I came into this industry to tell stories and do cinema and I was stuck in television." Which (...) meant soap operas "chasing middle-class housewives and the [poor and illiterate]. Once, they didn't even pay me because they thought my acting was so bad." Then Kapadia and The Warrior came along and Khan had suddenly bagged an acclaimed feature-film role. And a lead at that. "Asif and I have been longing to work together again since then. I've been watching his last film [Senna]. There was a pirated DVD version in India I could have watched but I thought, 'No, I want to watch it on a proper screen.'" He builds up the importance of really saving it, to appreciate Kapadia's Bafta-winner as intended. "I did eventually see it on a screen. A kind of tiny screen." Where? "Oh, on an airplane." And there's the humour, teasing throughout the edges of our chat.

Khan was born to Muslim parents in the Jaipur village of Tonk. His mother's side has royal lineage and his father's side was well-to-do, but Khan Sr was a self-made man. "He had a tyre shop but, really, he was a hunter." Khan, the eldest of two brothers and one sister, side-stepped the family business when his father died and escaped to drama school. "First, I pursued cricket, then I tried business, but I quickly got bored. Cut, cut, cut to drama school. No one could have imagined I would be an actor, I was so shy. So thin. But the desire was so intense, I thought I'd suffocate if I didn't get admission."

Three decades later and he is no less passionate. (...) Khan morphs on screen. He seems to disappear into the role, his face almost unrecognisable from one picture to the next: getting older and then younger-looking - blandly indistinctive at one turn, with sharp, penetrating features the next. 

Given his reputation for integrity, for being all about the craft (and he talks, at length, in those terms), it almost seems churlish to ask him about vanity and whether he's had work done. Almost. "I've never looked to create an image where people fall in love with my face or style. It does cross my mind. But I've been trying to create a space for myself where I don't depend on that." He is similarly vague about the beauty ideal in Bollywood - where he is arguably boxed into particular roles because the predominant aesthetic of the past two decades has been body buffed, skin-bleached. Even once-darker megastars (...) have endorsed "skin-whitening" products. As a darker, slighter actor, is there pressure to conform to the industry ideal? "I did try to do it but it made me feel empty. I cannot do things which don't come naturally to me. Initially, I did try everything. But you have to stick to your convictions and stand by your plus points. [Going to the gym] is not exciting for me. I want to connect with a story and hit [audiences] in the heart with a different way." It's perhaps this attitude and a distinct lack of baggage - "I don't have an image to protect" - that explains why he (...) has cracked both domestic and international markets. (...)

"I always object to the word Bollywood," he explains. (...) "I don't think it's fair to have that name. Because that industry has its own technique, its own way of making films that has nothing to do with aping Hollywood. It originates in Parsi theatre." So what defines Indian cinema? "Celebration, [we] celebrate everything and Indian cinema is an extension of that, so why did they lose their identity by calling it Bollywood?"

What about the indie Indian cinema scene - the "Hindies"? (...) How do they play at home? "They are doing great! That's why the industry is changing, because those films are bringing in money and they can't ignore it. Everybody's watching them." (...) "I wouldn't call [the Hindie films] arthouse but they do have a more original voice. You still have to entertain [Indian audiences], you cannot make them think. Or, you cannot leave them thinking. If you leave them thinking, you have to give them catharsis." I warn him this could sound grotesquely patronising in print. "But that is the way it is in India, they want an emotional connection. If you see a dark film that disturbs you, India won't take it. If it is tragedy, they will love it. They love to cry. That's for me, also. The first thing I do when I read a script is to find what hits me emotionally. That's what I connect to."

His harshest critics, he says, are his two sons. Not quite teenagers yet, but savvy enough to be telling him "what works and doesn't work for them. There is no bias. And they're my sons." His mother is proud, though he suspects she'd be happier if he gave it all up and became a teacher in his home town, as he once promised. "My mum is a conventional Muslim. Things I have learned from Islam are fantastic and I will carry them all my life but I am more open. I feel healthier that way." All in all, he seems pretty happy with his lot. Content and relaxed in a way that doesn't often come across with actors, no matter how successful. "Yes! I don't know why I get such cynical headlines. They always make me sound like I'm suffering from life. (...) I have lost the temptation for things that come through stardom. One day I'd like to enjoy my life without fame. Now... I enjoy it, you know?".'

Priyanka Chopra: Exotic

Priyanka Chopra è sempre più determinata a sfondare nella scena pop internazionale. L'11 luglio 2013 è stato presentato in rete il video di Exotic, il nuovo brano realizzato con il contributo di Pitbull. Ad oggi, il filmato è stato visualizzato quasi sette milioni di volte. 

 

Video Exotic

 

Priyanka Chopra e Pitbull

 

Onir: Don't censor my views

Vi segnalo un contributo significativo del regista Onir, pubblicato da Hindustan Times il 19 luglio 2013. Don’t censor my views:

'The gay man in Hindi cinema has been primarily represented as an overtly feminine and sexed-up man. There is nothing wrong in the feminine portrayal of the gay man but it becomes problematic when it becomes the only representation and a representation that is not respected and is constantly subjected to mockery. The other so-called non-stereotype portrayal too is problematic. (...) The same story of the gay man being a home-breaker who cannot be trusted. (...) Queer characters do not necessarily have to be ‘good’ but the narrative remains the same over and over again. Having said that one cannot take away the fact that the biggest contribution of the film [Bombay Talkies] is that you see an actor, who is a macho icon (Randeep Hooda), kiss another man. It shakes up an audience and some of them will accept that ‘this too is normal’. That is precious more so because it is a widely seen film. However, we should be cautious before perceiving that Bombay Talkies getting a wider release is a reflection of overall society becoming more open. The answer will lie when another non-studio film with queer content is made. Will it find the support system? Or will it be turned away by the film certification board with the excuse that two men looking at each other romantically cannot be shown on satellite television as it sends a wrong signal to children? (...) In Dostana (...) the mother at one point is willing to accept the character played by John Abraham as her son’s partner. I think showing acceptance by family is a great signal to give to a community that often lacks the courage to confide in their family'.

Vedi anche L'omosessualità nel cinema hindi

Irrfan Khan: I tried being a star but it did not work for me

Vi segnalo una lunga intervista concessa da Irrfan Khan a The Indian Express, pubblicata il 16 giugno 2013. I tried being a star but it did not work for me:

Vidya Prabhu: If there is one film you wish you had not done?

Chocolate. I couldn't watch it. I was only given the first half of the script. The second part I did not get even after the movie was over. (...)

Dipanita Nath: Why is it that unlike in the West actors in Bollywood are seen so rarely in the theatre? Do you miss the stage?

We don't have a culture of theatre. In America, theatre is alive. People are writing plays. Here when we do theatre, we either borrow scripts from abroad or there are few writers who are writing for a particular audience. So theatre movement itself is not so vibrant here. There are a few genuine people like Naseeruddin Shah who are doing theatre and doing it for the right reason. Sometimes, I do miss it but not in a way that I will leave cinema and start doing theatre. (...)

Suanshu Khurana: What were your growing-up years in Rajasthan like?

My father was from a feudal family and my mother was also from a reputed family. But our fortunes were on a downslide. So those were the days when they were trying to make their own identity but also holding on to their values. They looked down upon films, ditto for sports. They only wanted us to focus on studies. I would go to school at 6 am and come home at 6 pm. I would long for the time when this school business would end and I'd grow up and lead my own life. My father was a hunter, so I can never forget those nights when I accompanied him. They have left a strong impression on my mind. Whenever I get time, I look for jungles where I can go see animals at night. It's the most exciting moment for me.

Shiny Varghese: When you are shooting a film over a long period of time, how do you bring rigour into your work?

That's the nature of the profession. When you work with a story and shoot it for 5-6 months, sometimes you do half a scene today and half the scene four months later. In such cases, you learn as an actor, you pick up the skills. You are driven by both passion and skill and when the passion is gone, the skill takes over. But yes, when only the skills are working, then you are dead, the profession is dead to you and there's no fun.

Smita Nair: Are you stubborn as an actor?

Earlier, I used to be. But now I consider it a collaboration. It's more of a discussion and exploration together. It can't be either my way or his way, because then there is no fun making a movie. We both are there to tell a story, and bring our own elements to it. Like in Life of Pi, (director) Ang Lee had a particular design: he told me that for a particular dialogue, I need to turn and say it in a certain way. Very precise. Five years ago, it would have been very difficult for me. But now, I know how to adapt to that design and make it my own. That's also the function of an actor, to make a certain thing your own. (...)

P. Vaidyanathan Iyer: What do you do when you're not working?

When I do have time, I try to go away from the city, to a place where there are no people and just me. I also try to spend time with my kids. I watch documentaries. It takes time for me to get engaged by fiction.

Sagnik Chowdhury: You are an actor who gives a lot of importance to the craft of acting and filmmaking. Do you foresee a time when you would get into filmmaking yourself?

I dabbled in direction once when I was in television, but I did it because at that point, I was bored of acting. But direction doesn't come naturally to me. I'll definitely direct if a story becomes so compelling that I cannot live without sharing it. I wish I could do it. I wish I could write so that I could make films, because this is the best time to tell stories. The audience is ready to listen to stories, so it is the best time for a director. But I'd love to direct and act. Because as an actor, you have to wait for stories and present the other person's point of view'.

Company su Rai Movie

Non capita spesso che un canale televisivo italiano si prenda la briga di commissionare il doppiaggio e di proporre uno dei capolavori della cinematografia popolare in lingua hindi. Non solo: sino ad ora non era mai capitato che un canale televisivo italiano presentasse un film del geniale regista Ram Gopal Varma. Per cui, signore e signori, in piedi ad applaudire Rai Movie: sabato 27 luglio 2013, alle ore 21.10, è in programmazione il magnifico, oscuro Company, celebrato gangster movie del 2002 con Ajay Devgan, Vivek Oberoi, Manisha Koirala e la superstar del cinema in lingua malayalam Mohanlal. Alla sua distribuzione, Company conquistò critica e pubblico. Alcuni lo giudicarono persino superiore al mitico Satya. Ajay Devgan regala un'interpretazione indimenticabile, Vivek Oberoi un debutto clamoroso, Manisha Koirala un ruolo femminile malinconico e pieno di glamour. Company include sequenze ambientate in location straniere, scelta insolita nella filmografia di Varma. Speriamo solo che i dialoghi italiani non siano piatti ed esangui, e che il doppiaggio sia all'altezza del cast, della pellicola e della regia.

Vedi anche Bollywood su Rai 1: cicli 2008-2009-2010

Chori Chori: Recensione

 

[Blog] Recensione di Chori Chori (1956) l'ultimo film della coppia cinematografica Raj Kapoor / Nargis. Diretto da Anand Thakur.

Passaggio in India

Dal 4 luglio al 30 settembre 2013, al Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze (Sezione di Antropologia ed Etnologia) è allestita la mostra Passaggio in India. L'evento segna la riapertura, dopo più di vent'anni, del Museo Indiano fondato nel 1886  dall'orientalista Angelo De Gubernatis. In programma anche conferenze, laboratori, spettacoli, e una rassegna cinematografica di produzioni internazionali dedicate all'India. (Grazie a M. Francesca per la segnalazione).