The ideas of many great Hindi movies germinated in these lunch homes, the stomping grounds of the greatest film-wallahs.
Rushdie and Mehta’s Midnight’s Children promises a doubled up feast for thought and senses before the theater goes dark.
Indian society, post-globalisation may be wanting to make that critical, new-age, paradigm shift regarding morality, but still feel distinctly uncomfortable while discussing anything to do with sex.
Be it in the film world or ad world, old melodies from the 1990s, 1980s and even earlier are striking the right chords with young music enthusiasts, who are loving and lapping up the snazzier and contemporary remixed versions of the tracks.
For Nair, the very existence of the past, even in its residual form was more important than constructing a discriminating history of cinema.
This year, the Kumbh Mela of literary gatherings seemed to have morphed into an universe of literary outpourings spawning galaxies of thoughts and clusters of ideas around the academic magnets.
To some extent. Bombay is a mistress to many a lonely soul, its opiate histories and drunken peripheries have a natural intoxication.
My experience of Pakistan being firsthand gave me confidence to carry on and take any allegation of inferiority head on.
Religion is a continuous process and Kumbh is no exception.
New breed of cinema in English is redefining filmmaking in India
New Metaphors for Indian Fashion
"From mastering an instrument, we ourselves became instruments of something that possessed us."
Perhaps more than any other film-maker, Yash Raj Chopra (Dhool Ka Phool to Daag, Kabhie Kabhie, Silsila and his last Jab Tak Hai
Breaking rules, throwing them in the bin and recycling them and making something else from it” is the way to go.
Is Bollywood dumb, lazy or plain indifferent to physical or psychological differences and uses them as a convenient soft target for laughs or tears?
Happy everafter in holy matrimony, maybe. But sexy starlets divorce their fans when they hitch up.
Modernity as a concept is not something that should be, or is, exclusively generated in the West, but is also a product of time and place. Why should modernity be exclusively restricted to the standards used in the West?
Yash Chopra defined love and romance on the silver screen.
Suddenly the traditional boy-meets-girl formula, accompanied by the attendant melodramatic hi-jinx, has given way to some semblance of realism in subject, story-telling and performance.
Are these films really the new cinema, worthy of the hype and celebration and the new directors really the new stars and trail-blazers offering pulsating, exciting, no-holds-barred, creative chutzpah that separates the real from the fluff?
Fake works of masters have often been known to put international auction houses on the backfoot.
How did archaeologists trace the ghost walls, which curiously is an archaeological term?
“When Amjad Ali Khan performs, he carries with him a deep human spirit, a warm feeling and a sense of caring.”
Sure, Bollywood is on the rise, but as a global force that instantly demands and gets respect, awe, admiration and attention, sorry folks, Hollywood is the real thing.
Even megastars like Amitabh Bachchan and Salman Khan are rebelling against Bollywood— the word that is.
The star wrestler-actor Dara Singh embodied all that Indian-style clarified butter or “desi ghee” stands for — not least its potential for good honest home-grown strength and tenacity.
Delhi’s street vendors serve as global marketing model.
Frankly, India of the late 1960s was totally unprepared for Rajesh Khanna. The film industry, blown out of its mind, christened him Superstar. Stardust, the new iconoclastic, irreverent and deliciously chatpata new film magazine on the block, baptized him the Phenomenon and sold out its maiden issue within days just via banners enquiring whether Rajesh will/has married his girlfriend (at that time) Anju Mahendru?
A tribute to the greatest gazal singer of our time.
Music is the essential stressbuster for many Bollywood stars, trying to cope with erratic shooting schedules, hectic travel and long hours under the arclights, not to mention the unrelenting paparazzi gaze.
Aishwarya’s figure is cause for global distress. The querry “Aishwarya figure”throws up over 4 million results on google.
“The National Awards, sadly, are no longer what they used to be, with the favoritism, regionalism,politics and quid-pro-quo rampant. However, compared to the scores of others they are still streets ahead.
Actors are famously more admired than hired.Stars are famous for being famous.
The awkward fact remains that although Bollywood is the world’s largest movie factory, we don’t register even a hiccup in this gala, global, mega feast. Historically we have been conditioned and programmed to believe that it’s not the winning or losing, but participation that is the key.
Dancers say the popularity of Latino dances lies in the inherent joyousness, the friendships it generates on the floor across cultural divides — and the free-flowing body language, open to improvisations.
Will Chillar Party’s National Award inspire a rush of child films?
Dahibhavkar said that setting the height limit was a unanimous decision of representatives of all Ganeshotsav committees, social and public figures, artists and idol-makers.
The Indian Premier League is no longer perceived as a great threat for film releases.
The dream ride continues for Rubina Rafiq Qureshi and Azharuddin Ismail.
Possibly shaken up by these flops, she attempted to switch lanes, get adventurous and experiment with masala fare.
How far are Bollywood stars willing to prostitute themselves?
Why does the most glamorous, celebrated and venerated award spurn Bollywood, the world’s largest film industry?
What’s with this place that causes celeb couples to embrace fatal attraction? Is it really a royal jinx for the glitterati, hypnotized by the color and romance of this amazing state, only to be doomed in their relationship?
The idiot screen overwhelms the idiot box, once the spot for cute, sweet, homely, intimate fare.
A fan and critic bids farewell to the most enduring — and handsome — of Bollywood’s romantic legends.
The fact that the movie was a thinly-veiled bio of the southern sex-bomb of the 1980s Silk Smitha added solid, lip-smacking spice.
Atta Girl! Way to go! Never was dirt so sexily rewarding!