evaluating any one dance, the viewer must ask “why the dance happens, what
motivates specific characters to dance, and what [. . .] the dance achieve[s] in the
broader narrative context” (94). The breaks also carry on folk traditions of inviting
audience reaction to staged performance or such performances’ own speaking to
audience-related “topical” matters (Shedde 25). The dances, as well, notes another
critic, offer chances for women dancing to display something of their emotional selves,
without transcending conventional limits for female expression (see Nijhawan)—in some
contexts, they even can “stand in for sex scenes,” writes yet another (Virdi 19).
Deepening the connection of ancient practice and recent norms, the maintaining of
masala rhythms in contemporary films has been read as a carnivalesque expression
(Shandilya 113), and this playfulness has been examined by critics in a series of
“chutneyed,” or masala, revampings of Western hits, from Dead Poets Society, Indecent
Proposal, and Sleepless in Seattle, to Taxi Driver (see Nayar).
As is seen in such remakes in general, Ek Ajnabee imbues the transformed story
with masala-influenced ludic shifting moods. Colors tend to be brighter than in the two
earlier films. The grainy texture of Scott’s version is gone, Thailand, where this version
plays out, shining under bright sun. And while cutting is used to create occasional
staccato narrative pacing, or to echo musical passages, most of the film’s story flows
smoothly and is built of stagey, set scenes. Revenge-taking is graphic and ugly, but the
whole business is laid out to seem at times more parodic of the source (here, the 2004
film, not the novel) than it is an evocation. Interviewed, one of the supporting actors
claims that the film is not a Bollywood “remake,” but is “setting new standards” (see
Chhabra.)
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