Abstract
Runa Chakraborty Paunksnis and Šarūnas Paunksnis (Eds.), Gender, Cinema, Streaming Platforms: Shifting Frames in Neoliberal India. Palgrave Macmillan, 2023, 285 pp., $39.99. ISBN: 9783031166990.
As the traditional mediascape shifts from the silver screen to the pixels of laptops and mobile devices, the edited volume Gender, Cinema, Streaming Platforms: Shifting Frames in Neoliberal India offers a timely exploration of contemporary Indian cinema. Specifically, it focuses on the changing dynamics of gender representation within this evolving mediascape. The anthology probes the evolving terrain of Indian cinema, not only navigating its current debates but also cautiously speculating on its future trajectory. It confronts issues of censorship, the rise of Hindu nationalism, the aftermath of the Nirbhaya case and the #MeToo movement, as reflected on the ‘postmillennial’ films and web series in a period the authors identify with the turn of the millennium in 2000. The collection interrogates the ‘postfeminist’ celebration of women’s empowerment that manifests in this period and flourishes on digital platforms. Thus, the anthology scrutinises the notion that streaming platforms unequivocally transformed Indian cinema positively for women. Instead, it introduces complexity to this era, challenging the premature celebration of radical industry changes.
The book is structured by four distinct parts. The first three consist of essays authored by film scholars, each focusing on one or two films or web series that serve as anchors for their larger arguments. The essays in the first section of the book, ‘Representations of Gender in SVOD Platforms’, are the ones that most directly address the overarching intersection of gender, cinema and streaming platforms in the Indian context. The subsequent sections, ‘Representations of Women in Postmillennial Hindi Cinema’ and ‘Women, Documentaries, and Politics’ are temporally situated in the post-2000s era and are theoretically framed by the postfeminist moment. Even if the films themselves are not platform originals or exclusively digital releases, they nonetheless address the evolving landscape of Indian cinema and women’s representation following the emergence of streaming platforms. The final section presents a written account of an interview conducted by the editors with experimental filmmaker Ashish Avikunthak. This section offers readers a firsthand account and dialogue that reflects the broader themes and concerns explored throughout the book.
In essence, the book aims to offer a critical examination of the portrayal of gender in new films, particularly those distributed through these platforms. While these films may project themselves as emblematic of feminist progress by departing from traditional depictions of women as submissive wives, they often present a ‘commodified version of feminism that is commensurate with market demands and patriarchal norms […] which remains silent about subverting the hegemonic Brahmanical patriarchal social structure’ (p. 7). Despite showcasing financially independent and assertive female characters, these narratives often overlook systemic issues and the necessity for collective action to effect meaningful societal change. Instead, they place undue emphasis on individual choice and personal agency, inadvertently reinforcing patriarchal gender roles rather than challenging them. Thus, the book urges readers to look beyond superficial representations of feminism and to critically engage with the broader societal structures that perpetuate gender inequality.
The book opens with the anecdote of Rhea Chakraborty’s arrest amid the media frenzy following the death of actor Sushant Singh Rajput. The introduction highlights Chakraborty’s T-shirt slogan at the time of her arrest: ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, let’s smash the patriarchy, me and you’. It delves into the media’s response to her sartorial choice and the (mis)appropriation of the feminist slogan. People projected their own sentiments about the women’s rights movement onto the slogan, either vilifying or elevating Chakraborty’s status as an ‘icon of protest’. Her T-shirt slogan was understood as a critique of ‘hyper-masculine media and other forms of patriarchal oppression’, (Sengat qtd in R. Paunksnis and Š. Paunksnis 1) which overshadowed its original feminist message aimed at raising awareness about menstrual hygiene in rural India. For the editors, this moment epitomises the book’s objective: ‘to identify how the so-called feminist enunciations in the films and SVOD content in twenty-first-century India are marked by a similar ambiguous entanglement of feminist and counter-feminist rhetoric’ (p. 2). Prior to providing an overview of the book and its structure, the introduction introduces key terminology that links the chapters together, along with a concise historical overview of debates regarding gender representation in Indian cinema.
In Chapter 2, titled ‘Biopolitics of Hindutva’, Š. Paunksnis scrutinises the portrayal of masculinity in SVOD content post-2014, with a specific focus on the web series Leila and Aashram. Paunksnis dissects these series, exploring what he terms the ‘politics of anxiety’: a revival of reactionary masculinist narratives marked by an intensified emphasis on the muscularity of the protagonists and heightened levels of violence. Chapter 3, ‘Questioning the “Great” in “The Great Indian Wedding”’, analyses Amazon Prime Video series Bang Baaja Baaraat and Made in Heaven. Abrol argues streaming platforms create space for alternative narratives of Indian womanhood, negating conformist gender constructions endorsed by the male gaze and larger-than-life wedding portrayals. The chapter argues that the episodic and rhizomatic structure of streaming platform series allows the narrative space and time to showcase nuanced female characters and narratives. The chapter is a fascinating contribution to the field that considers both form and content. Chapter 4, ‘Four More Shots Please’, scrutinises the portrayal of modern Indian women in the Amazon Prime Video web series of the same name. R. Paunksnis analyses the depiction of sexually liberated women, noting the emphasis on hyper-sexualised behaviour. They contend that this portrayal promotes a version of empowerment rooted in personal choice (aligned with neoliberal postfeminist ideologies) but fails to address persistent structural inequalities and overlooks the power of collective action.
Transitioning from series analysis to exploring anthologies, another format popularised by streaming, Chapter 5 delves into Netflix’s Lust Stories, examining what the author terms the ‘Politics of Private Viewing’. Deshmukh discusses scopophilia and the emergence of private viewing facilitated by streaming platforms, arguing that streaming platforms have shifted consumption from collective theatre experience to solitary viewing, bringing both enjoyment and guilt. The chapter, akin to its predecessors, highlights the implications of a ‘structural redesigning of narrative’ in the era of on-demand streaming. While offering intriguing insights, the chapter lacks a more substantial examination of Lust Stories, leaving readers somewhat dissatisfied with the discussion of changing exhibition formats.
Chapter 6, ‘New Visibilities and Sisterhood’, marks the beginning of the book’s second part titled ‘Representations of Women in Postmillennial Hindi Cinema’. This section examines films that, while not exclusively released or original from SVOD platforms, exemplify new gender examinations on film enabled by the proliferation of streaming platforms. Using the film Veere di Wedding as a primary example, Chakraborty explores the trend in female-led Hindi films that redefine gender roles and responsibilities. The chapter argues that these films depict the family as illustrating the impact of neoliberalism on urban educated girls, portraying liberation through elements like alcohol, cuss words and commodified femininity. This version of feminism aligns suspiciously with the neoliberal idea of the ‘new woman’ as one who drinks, smokes cigarettes, curses and has sex. The sisterhood portrayed emphasises freedom and choice within a privileged social class, without questioning or challenging the system that enables such privilege. Chapter 7 ‘Gaze Averted’ pays attention to the topic of menstruation as seen in postmillennial Hindi cinema. Yadav and Gaur evaluate the Oscar winning short film Period. End of Sentence and Padman, released only one year apart. The chapter begins by analysing how period blood has been stigmatised as an undesirable category, a taboo subject rarely discussed or depicted in cinema. Both films address this taboo directly, sparking much-needed conversations about women’s health and the challenges surrounding menstruation.
But despite their efforts, Yadav and Gaur critique the films for their lack of true subversion and progressive representation. Padman, a film centred around a women’s issue, ironically revolves around the heroic figure of the man solving the problem through the invention of a commercially viable product. Similarly, in Period. End of Sentence, the author suggests that the documentary is ‘tinted with patronizing capitalism’ (p. 177) and portrays ‘passive women waiting to be rescued’ (p. 177). Sugathan analyses Meghna Gulzar’s Raazi in Chapter 8 ‘Gender and Nationalism’. In it, she argues that the film subverts traditional notions of the female spy, nationalistic action movies and the position of women and Muslims as Others in typical narratives of the Indian nation-state. The character of Sehmat Khan in Raazi, in contrast to other nationalistic films and particularly those set in Kashmir, is a different kind of spy who doesn’t use her sexuality as a weapon or glorify sacrifice for the nation without questioning it. In Raazi and Sehmat, Sugathan sees the possibilities of postmillennial Hindi cinema reimagining traditional depictions of both women and the nation.
The third section of the book ‘Women, Documentaries, and Politics’ starts with Chapter 9, ‘India’s Daughter: The Banality of Rape’. This section offers a fresh perspective on Indian cinema and predominantly focuses on narrative fiction films, sidelining documentaries. As noted in the chapter, documentaries play a significant role in the discourse surrounding Indian female filmmakers, where many women not only exist but also thrive in this genre. In the chapter, Zalis-Anzi tackles the challenging task of providing a nuanced reading that complicates the context of Leslee Udwin’s India’s Daughter. Zalis-Anzi examines the film through the lenses of Luce Irigaray, Jean-Francois Lyotard and Frantz Fanon, suggesting that Udwin’s documentary presents the issue of rape in India narrowly. The film creates a simplistic analogy between patriarchy and sexual violence that disregards the influence of class tensions and caste disparities as mitigating factors contributing to such events. With a close reading of I am Yet to See Delhi and Bare, Acharya examines how female documentary filmmakers respond to similar questions on gender representations addressed in the chapters. Chapter 10 ‘Deeply Personal is Deeply Political’ highlights women’s contributions to Indian cinema and gender discourse that broaden the view of the industry, beyond narrative films and SVOD web series.
Lastly, in its fourth and final section, the book departs from essay to a written account of the editors’ interview with experimental filmmaker Ashish Avikunthak. While some background on the director and his work would have been welcomed at the chapter’s outset, by the chapter’s end, readers can appreciate the clear, direct language used to address many questions raised throughout the collection. Avikunthak articulates a key point that encapsulates the book: despite historical hope, platforms replicate exclusionary systems they aimed to change. He critiques films lauded as innovative, highlighting how platforms perpetuate retrograde cinematic representations – feudalistic, patriarchal, hypernationalistic and narcissistic (p. 31). Avikunthak’s insight sheds light on the industry’s complexities and challenges, offering a critical lens on both its achievements and failures.
Gender, Cinema, Streaming Platforms: Shifting Frames in Neoliberal India stands as a valuable and timely collection, exploring gender in Indian cinema through different lenses and methodologies, including close readings and industrial analysis. While a more comprehensive exploration of SVODs in section one would enrich the collection, the chosen films and websites offer an ample view of the evolving film landscape since the rise of streaming platforms in India. Particularly, the inclusion of web series is pivotal in today’s streaming age, reflecting the industry’s dynamic transformation and the involvement of professionals across the board from the big screen to the mobile screen. The collection is well-suited for upper-division undergraduate and graduate courses on South Asian cinema and media, addressing contemporary debates such as censorship and the rise of Hindu nationalism. Each chapter provides succinct historical context and defines key terms for accessibility. While some chapters could be further developed, and additional background information on interviewed filmmakers would enhance comprehension, the collection overall offers invaluable insights into gender studies, South Asian cinema and media studies.