In our country, where the rich and the ostentatious are first cousins, having a buck is always equated with having the biggest – the biggest bungalow, the biggest car, the biggest swimming pool, the biggest wedding – have money, will spend (If any doubts, check out ‘My Big Fat Indian Wedding’ on Good Times). And also – will show off as well. Restraint and refinement are at best reserved for the traditionally rich, while the big majority of the nouveau riche still swears by one motto – splurge. Little wonder that in our films too, rich means avenues through which you can display the most moolah – the rich hero has to drive the biggest, most opulent set of wheels money can buy. The Impala made way for the Mercedes Benz, which is grudgingly making way for an array of the crore-marques – high profile celluloid foray in recent times made most notably by the Audi Q7 and the Bentley.
The previous instalment of this article was a prelude to how cars embellish celluloid characters, and how some filmmakers like Sriram Raghavan and Imtiaz Ali got it bang on with their choices of the Lancer and Mustang for Johnny Gaddar and Love Aaj Kal respectively. In this episode, we’re going to dissect two films from recent times, and see how its choice of wheels could have been bettered – both are cases where it seems like the filmmakers chose merrily to fall into the ‘Big Rich’ quagmire elaborated earlier. My hero is rich and famous, therefore, give him simply the most expensive car on Indian roads. Baloney!
Q7 Kyun?
Mr Singhania is the clean cut typical naïve rich who dishes out his platinum credit card to the paani puri wallah (the trend seems to have caught on, check out Wake up, Sid). Mr Singhania falls for the selfless charms of the struggling, do-gooder, Kalpana, who is killed with a bwang… and so the story of Ghajini goes on. Mr. Perfection, Aamir Khan himself, plays Mr Singhania in the movie of short-term memory loss and related maladies, such as, having to write your ‘to-do’ list all over your body, and click photos with more vehemence than a Japanese tourist – all the while sporting a brute scowl, and weird hairdo. Till he lost his memory (and took to the instant camera), Mr Singhania drove an Audi Q7 SUV.
Now, the Q7 is a great SUV – this German engineered SUV is widely respected. A polished exterior with well-crafted interiors, agile handling, with several high-end accoutrements all seemingly makes this an ideal choice for the billionaire mobile-telephony tycoon, Mr Singhania. Seemingly?
Remember, the Toyota Innova, before deciding to target the woman exec, busy on her way up, was doing its celebrity tango with Aamir Khan? Thankfully, or quite expectedly, the spots didn’t endure – they ran out of steam. The ‘absolute connect’ Aamir manages with every other product he endorses – whether be it a cola or a cause, biscuit or a watch – was missing here. Size matters? Well, maybe. He looked a bit lost (pun unintentional).
Kalpana, the selfless do-gooder, calls up Mr Singhania to tell him that the villain is about to bwang her head off. Mr Singhania, who is cruising merrily in his Q7, does a drift, and drives towards his own memory loss. This defining drift, a turnaround of the movie itself, looks laboured, in part because the Q7 is a big, heavy vehicle – longer by a full foot than others in its class. Now imagine the same U-turn by the sexy, sporty, stylish Singhania in an SLK. This Mercedes Benz roadster gels well with the diminutive, power-packed, eight-abed Aamir any day better than the Audi behemoth. Director, Murugadoss, could have packed a bigger punch, even before the actual punching started, with a better set of wheels.
The shoot could have gone like this:
Murugadoss: Aamir, one last shot, before you go home. Kalpana calls you on your phone and you are driving.
Aamir: Muruga, I am tired, instead of me talking to Kalpana, you can shoot me talking to Kiran. Send your camera man with me as I drive home today.
Yes, Aamir Khan has his own Audi Q7. Lights…camera...action. Honey, I’m home…
The superstar rolls in a Bentley
Moving on to the other Khan, the King Khan whose ‘king-dom’ is seriously shaken by the other Khans joining hands with the Kumar in a malicious overthrow attempt. Gupshup aside, the disputed King was last seen in the ‘Made-all-over-India’ Billu Barber, where he played himself – Sahir Khan, superstar. His status, money, fame, glory, et al, is on a blatant, shameless display through the Bentley in which he rolls into Billu’s quaint little hamlet – superstar, supercar, safely played by director Priyadarshan.
Since Sahir Khan is a thinly disguised Shahrukh Khan only, the choice of wheels should have been anything but a Bentley – or a Rolls Royce for that matter. For these two are for the rich by lineage, those moneyed by dynasty – having an oil well or two tucked up somewhere in the shimmering deserts of the Gulf. Or middlemen / peddlers of Superhawk helicopters and T-90 tanks to warlords and country heads at loggerheads with each other. Sahir Khan came up the hardest way – unconventional looks, speech impediment and the most carnal of all, no godfather – he withstood the test by fire and came out a true, fiery diamond.
A self-professed cosmopolitan, whose style statements spark debates, whose sexual leanings fill gossip pages, he is the real deal. He is fun, he is danger, he is adventure. He is loyal, he is spunky, he is kinky. Difficult to label, impossible to define. He has to drive home this edge. He has to be behind the wheels of a Morgan Aeromax, a spaceship on wheels – concocting an outrageous noise with its 4.4 litre, V8 engine. Though it might be decimated on the tracks by a Ferrari, this is exclusivity at its reclusive best. This car, with aircraft style superformed aluminium outer panels, is a tribute to the craftsmen who hand assemble each car. One unique nut.
An option could be a Bugatti Veyron. If you bother to check out my blog, www.reelwheel.blogspot.com, you will find the recommendation there to be a Mercedes Benz G class. After all, it is the favourite of the fabulously rich, adventure-loving, ruler of Dubai, Sheikh Maktoum. Sure, you get the drift. |
