Whether it's Vir Das barging into a wedding ceremony in progress declaring the bride has given him a blow job or him rebuking flatmate Kunaal Roy Kapoor "your g*** is like a solar eclipse", Delhi Belly, the meanest entertainer of 2011, effectively kills the myth that Bollywood humorists feed off on a pan-India family audience.
While slapstick is still popular with a large section of people with the popular Dhamaal, Bheja Fry and Golmaal franchises, 2011 marks a year the comic routine undergoes a filthy revamp to also include India's young migratory professionals eking out a living in metropolitans.
In a way, Delhi Belly is a slick version of what the average 20-something in college hostels and bachelor pads thinks and says. And why not? For a generation growing up on sitcom 'S*** My Dad Says' (based on a Twitter feed by the same name), films such as Delhi Belly and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara are Adam Herz-ish (of the American Pie fame) in the way they treat their lead protagonists.
So when Imran Khan sports an erection during a scene, there are no eyebrows raised, nor are fragile sensibilities hurt during a sequence in which he gives oral pleasure to his girlfriend (and accepts a phone call midway). But the film's finer moments lie not just in its scatological humour but in writer Akshat Varma’s astuteness in getting the pulse of the nation. The young Varma is truly the hero of the film as he hits the jackpot with a tight script that takes unexpected turns along with the capers of its droll protagonists.
So when a gangster's sidekick knocks on a hotel door and says "Sir, lundry" (laundry), you smile. When Kapur thinks it’s only natural to wash off with orange juice in the absence of water after taking a dump, you smile. When gangster (played superbly by Vijay Raaz) ceremoniously empties a bottle of stool on the table in place of diamonds, you cringe, but smile some more.
The characters of Khan, Kapoor and Das constantly rib each other and use some of the most colourful swear words known to youngsters, but you don't mind.
Yes, Delhi Belly has the potential to alienate its older audiences, but it also has a lot of heart.
Filmmakers seem to have made the most use of the social networking websites for promoting their films this year. Mujhse Fraaandship Karoge is a satire of the Facebook entity that lives on daily status updates and stalks good looking women on the social networking sites. Produced under Yash Raj's Y Films banner, MFK has such witticism from its protagonist, "Boss ladkiyon ka toh recession chal rahi hai mere life mein. (there is a shortage of women in my life)". Some of you in the same age group, sitting in the dark theatre alone, whistle and clap and wholeheartedly agree. "Malavika - uske toh naam mein hi maal hai" again draws some hoots.
Films such as Pyar Ka Punchnama and Love Ka The End are tailormade for the audiences in their "irresponsible tweens" and pack refreshingly smart dialogue including profane banter that are more funny than offensive. The promos are cut into two versions, the censored and the uncensored, for two categories of audiences. Which is why dialogue such as "Babu I was not looking at her tits, I swear" is beeped off in one version while is very popular on the internet in the other.
The reason why Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, Delhi Belly, Pyar Ka Punchnama, Tanu Weds Manu and Mere Brother Ki Dulhan work, is all of these films, in some way or the other, speak to the irreverent child in you. You are transported to your own school days and the mannerisms of that one teacher you all hated when Farhan Akhtar and Abhay Deol pull off a winner with their "Main toh kehta hoon, ye the mantally sick ho chuka hai" dialogue. And by the time they say "Isse psychia-tricks ki zaroorat hai" you are laughing with them.
You are in splits when a straight-faced Deol goes on: "School nahi, iskool. Kyuki only the Mr the Dubey can taawk like this. Kya tum mantally challenged ho, my bwoy? (mind you, emphasis on 'bwoy').
"Arjun (Hrithik Roshan) my bwoy, tum is the uniform mein the mental lag rahe ho." You want to say “encore!” but the film rolls on to show the underlying currents that form the basis of their friendship.
Why have profane and smart comedies been the underdogs of the year? Perhaps because no one expected them to speak in one voice to the mostly overlooked audiences in their late 20s and mid 30s; the new professionals earning fat salaries, the artists, the dork flatmate who never gets the girl, the foulmouthed smart alec who is the entertainer of any group (whom the dork secretly envies).
New age comedies understand and tap into the frustrations of youngsters living in alien cities with little or no private space and meeting daily the pressures of deadlines, expectations and expenses.
Women in new age comedies are liberal beings who match pace with their male leads to deal dialogue for dialogue. Take the cigarette-smoking sensuous Poorna Jagannathan and the possessive Shehnaz Treasurywala in Delhi Belly, the raucous Kangana Ranaut in Tanu Weds Manu, the matter-of-fact Katrina Kaif playing a scuba diving instructor in ZNMD, the cantankerous trio Nushrat Bharucha, Sonali Sehgal and Ishitta Sharma in PKP or Katrina Kaif in the marriage caper Mere Brother Ki Dulhan; the women uninhibitedly break conventional moulds and take a large share of the laughter.
Whether Imran Khan is out on a mission to select a bride for his brother or on the run from a gangster having stolen his diamonds, the directors of the respective films have clearly freed him from the towering expectations that come with being a star, leaving him free to enjoy his role.
Much of the premise of the medium budget comedies this year is precisely this. New faces, B-listers, fresh writers, a market scan (DK Bose was born out of a brainstorming session) for prominent trends and combining the experience in a package that will hopefully not offend the larger paying audience base, but will pull in the target crowd.
And the formula is working, isn't it?
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