Veena Malik's 'Supermodel' could be India's next entry for the Oscars

This has been a great week for news editors given the number of important stories that broke. Navjot Sidhu called off his fast unto death in four hours much to the dismay of Indian citizens. The Electronic Voting Machine got a right to reject button as if rich people will vote instead of going to Goa over the election weekend. Nawaz Sharif allegedly called Manmohan Singh a dehati aurat, making Indians on Twitter respond with, “How dare you insult our spineless, incompetent puppet? That’s our job.” All these stories remain pointless footnotes on the sands of time when compared to what I’m going to talk about. [caption id=“attachment_1144647” align=“alignleft” width=“380”]  A screengrab from the Supermodel trailer on YouTube.[/caption] A few weeks ago I was performing at a popular Mumbai club where Ashmit Patel was in the audience. A thorough gentleman, he walked up and shook hands congratulating me on a job well done after I finished my set. After my brain was done screaming “YOU JUST SHOOK HANDS WITH SOMEONE WHOSE MMS YOU’VE DOWNLOADED!”, I realised it wasn’t a handshake but a cry for help. He knew that his film Supermodel would release in a few weeks, after which even beggars would start returning his money at traffic signals. Unlike ‘sickular’ ‘paidmedia’ critics who hate the film simply because the lead actor is Gujarati, I’m here to tell you why you should all watch Supermodel. First, the plot of this film is that five models are battling it out in Fiji to be the calendar girl for a wine company. We know they’re in Fiji because when their plane lands, the camera pans to the aircraft tail that says “Fiji”. However, one of the models decides to take control by killing the rest of the competition. The first model dies with half a litre of Milkmaid coming out of her mouth (how’s that for symbolism?). The murderous model kills all her four competitors. Fair to say that the director has made insightful points into what a career in modelling entails, i.e. being slapped on your forehead with a stranger’s genitals when you least expect it. Second, Ashmit Patel is in a role of a lifetime as a sassy playboy named Monty. We know he’s hep because he tells a model after making out with her, “Koi bhi badi news dene se pehle mujhe meetha chakhna pasand hai.” ("Before delivering any big news, I like to taste something sweet.") One hopes this wasn’t the custom growing up around family while talking about the school report card. There are three things we learn about Monty. His Adam’s apple looks like it has an erection. His muscles have such a dramatic glow that it seems as though the muscle is about to give birth to another muscle. The more he falls in love with Veena Malik, the more he starts covering his body with normal clothes in what I imagine is a confidence building measure. If that isn’t enough, Monty also sings a classic Punjabi number with lyrics such “Teri maa nu (wait for it) saasu aakhaan, teri bhen di (wait for it, wink) photo khichaan”. (“I’ll call your mother my mother in law and I’ll click your sister’s pictures”, with pregnant pauses after “teri ma” and “teri bhen” to raise anticipations of a much-loved cuss word or two.) Third, everyone knows that a B grade film will not have the best production values. However, it takes a special kind of editor to do the entire opening and closing credits in default Arial size 12. While many will say it signifies laziness and lack of creativity, I feel it harks back to a simpler time where legibility and not style was important. Ritwik Ghatak would be proud of this exposition of black and white as a metaphor for life, and how some actors don’t even deserve Times New Roman. There are many more things that this film offers. There’s a white model whose cleavage is blurred, instantly inverting Bollywood’s racial stereotypes. Jackie Shroff has a cameo and we can only imagine what he was offered in exchange for this appearance. There’s a scene where billionaire Harsh Chayya in his satin suit asks his wife to shoot herself as penance for having cheated on him, only to reveal that the gun had no bullets and it was a test of their marriage. Sexy, suspenseful and sugar-coated with morality. What more can one ask for? Going by current trends of choosing the best film to emerge out of India, I am certain that Supermodel will be India’s entry to the Oscars next year. You don’t want to miss out.