It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Unhealthy competition, heavy A-lister interference and power plays - the film industry hit quite a few speed bumps in 2015. Here's reflecting on the year gone by

In show business, nothing is ever as it seems. Scanning the about-to-end-annual report of Bollywood's harvest of films, one could be forgiven for concluding that 2015 was a pretty good year.
After all, despite a slow start, the box office was at a high. Approximately 110 films were premiered. And it seemed like just about every weekend brought another hit - if not blockbuster - to a rabidly enthusiastic audience. The only problem with such an upbeat assessment is that it's not entirely accurate.
Sure, there were a number of extremely profitable films - Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Tanu Weds Manu Returns and Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, for instance. But with costs going completely out of control, film corporations, assorted producers, and financiers, who bankroll projects from behind the scenes, have painted themselves into a very dark corner - one in which a single, big-budget failure can wipe them off the map. At least two leading corporates that were flying high now belong to the almost-extinct species.
Moreover, an unhealthy competition is on to book as many multiplex screens as possible and amass the maximum ticket sales during the opening weekend, as in the case of Dilwale and Bajirao Mastani. Numbers count; quality can go fly a kite. Add to this the spiralling budgets that are essential for marketing (a euphemism for media publicity), and all these add up to a movie-making scenario that is in shambles.
Disturbingly, the clout of A-list heroes has strengthened to such a degree that they're the ones who call the shots today. The value of directors, producers and writers is at its lowest point. To continue in the fray, they must be in the good books of the super-saleable actors who, without so much as a by-your-leave, intervene in every component of a project - from finalising the leading lady and music composer to the cinematographer and costume designer. Male heroes - the heroines don't have a say, really - supervise the editing, suggest international songs that can be 'adapted' and even indulge in ghost-direction frequently.
Of course, this isn't an entirely new phenomenon. Dilip Kumar, for instance, was known to have driven his directors up the wall. Nowadays, that's a given. The Khan trinity - Shah Rukh, Aamir and Salman Khan - go more by their gut-feelings and their own sensibilities than those of the director, whose status has been reduced to a yes man, or a Noddy in Wonderland.

POWER PLAY: Some of the industry's biggest stars such as (left to right) Akshay Kumar and Shah Rukh Khan prefer to produce their own films, else demand jaw-dropping fees to star in projects not their own

In any case, why shouldn't the Khans want their movies to be the way they deem fit? With a stray exception like Salman Khan assenting to his mentor Sooraj Barjatya's Prem Ratan Dhan Payo, all three Khans produce their own films, under their own banners. If not, they're known to demand such huge back-end deals in the profits that the producer lucks out, if there's still a slice of the cake left for him on the plate.
Star power, even if it's iffy, rules. As in the case of Akshay Kumar. Incredibly prolific, with as many as four films this year - Baby, Gabbar is Back, Singh is Bling and Brothers - he's more of an astute businessman than an actor of substance. Comparable to the Jeetendra of yore, he has a loyal fan base that never tires of his fists of fury or his acrobatic dance moves. If he acts outside his own production company though, his fee is believed to be drop-dead astounding.
Doubtless, money matters. After all, filmmaking is a commercial enterprise, which needs to recover a project's cost as well as tote cushy profits. One's argument here is that money, while a priority, shouldn't be an actor's or filmmaker's sole motive. It is being steadily forgotten that cinema is also a creative endeavour that serves up entertainment. In the process, if some valid humanitarian points can be made, that's a bonus.
Take the curious case of Anurag Kashyap. Considered a rule-breaker and the godfather of off-mainstream cinema, he evidently concocted Bombay Velvet to strike box-office gold. Full stop. Instead of his trademark insights into low-life behaviour (Dev.D, Gangs of Wasseypur), the audience was subjected to a brain-boggling, inept and prohibitively-costly gangster saga set in the 1970s. The result? An unmitigated disaster that has been acknowledged as an example to cash in on the star value of Ranbir Kapoor. Kashyap's zest for advancing the cause of realistic cinema was conspicuous by its absence.
Because of the Bombay Velvet fiasco, Ranbir's credentials took a beating, but these have been mercifully restored by his impactful performance in Tamasha, Imtiaz Ali's stylishly designed romance which drew bipolar reactions - of love and hate - from audiences and critics.
You win some, you lose some, as the age-old aphorism goes. Bollywood, like Mumbai city itself, has a certain characteristic. On the one hand, it is resilient enough to survive its calamities. On the other hand, it celebrates its successes with exaggerated gusto. Which is why the show goes on, inspiring all of us to look forward to 2016 with a lot of hope and just as much anxiety.

Khalid Mohamed

• khalid@khaleejtimes.com