Director: Priyadarshan Writers: Manisha Korde (screenplay) and Mushtaq Sheikh (screenplay)
Release Date: 13 February 2009 (Pakistan)
Story: A remake of the hugely successful Malayalam film Kadha Parayumbol, Billu (formerly “Billu Barber”) is the story of a small town man, Billu (Irrfan Khan) who mentions to his family that he was once a friend of superstar; Sahir Khan (Shahrukh Khan).Sahir Khan happens to come to the village to shoot a film and Billu’s children spread the rumor that their father is his childhood friend.
The villagers, on hearing their Billu could be their ticket to meeting the star, shower him with gifts and promises on condition Billu make contact for them. Billu is embarrassed by his poverty and doesn’t want to impose, but everyone works themselves up so he’s forced to make several ill-fated attempts at contacting the star while he’s shooting just outside the village. But it’s the school principal who, after threatening to expel Billu’s children for non-payment of fees, has a turnaround when she believes Billu is able to get the star to appear at a school function and speak to the children. She goes to Sahir herself and requests his presence at the function for the children. Were Billu and Sahir childhood friends? Will Sahir meet with the villagers?
Barber, a derogatory profession?
24 Feb 2009, 0000 hrs IST
Times of India
There seems to be a confederacy of barbers nationally, who have united to have themselves not associated with their profession because it might
be derogatory.
A fair point. Rarely, in posh urban areas do we say we’re heading to the barber shop. The words ‘salon’ or ‘hair-dresser’ seem the terms in use. Particularly upscale hair salons have hair consultants (sort of like the Mckinsey&Co. of hair),
stylists (sort of like designer Sabyasachi for hair), one has a hair expert (sort of like the Chairman of The Reserve Bank of India, for hair). Therefore, unless there’s some need to appear salt-of-the-earth (like hoping for an election ticket); the barber shop is relegated to crowded Mumbai neighborhoods, where characters from Slumdog Millionaire or Shantaram, might drop in for a casual trim.A movie, the one in question being the latest Priyadarshan blockbuster Billu, has the fictional right to call itself whatever it pleases. In a country presenting freedom of speech as a fundamental right, (like us and the Americans), if the central character (Irrfan Khan as Billu) does not meet stylist requirements (i.e., a desire to style) or does not meet the ‘hair professional’ terminology because he hasn’t graduated from the Vidal Sassoon or bblunt school of snipping, then he’s probably just a barber. Which he is (helped by a line early in the film, “I am Billu Barber”). In a fictional Indian small town, where one believes daily agrarian requirements are more important than the shabby-chic look, one could argue that a man claiming to be a barber, deserves to be called one. A friend commented, (“If your name was Praveen Contractor and I called you Harish, how would you feel?”) Also, by example, a confederacy of sharks with modest teeth could claim the movie title Jaws misrepresents who they are, but it didn’t seem to stop Hollywood.
Further, we are perhaps not far from the time when a confederacy of men named Billu, could claim that calling them barbers was offensive to future Billus, because a Billu might indeed choose to be a ballerina (Billu Ballerina is a movie I’d definitely go see), or a boxer (Billu Boxer should definitely have Anil Kapoor in the lead) and therefore calling Mr. Billu a barber was limiting his career possibilities. And besides, given being a barber is derogatory anyway, no self-respecting Billu would want to associate with it. Thus it is perhaps likely that similar to the symbol (the artist formerly known as Prince), if a few mild tantrums were thrown by special interest groups of concise Indian nomenclature, the film would be called ¥ (the film formerly knows as Billu Barber).
As for the movie itself, it is one of those “how can one possibly know x?” stories that revolve entirely around the unlikely alliance of two, from as diametrically opposite backgrounds as possible (think Roman Holiday with two men, add Priyadarshan, haircuts and subtract the romance angle). It revolves around a central question that the nation’s die-hard fans of its biggest movie star, ask themselves everyday. Can one really know Shah Rukh Khan? Even if you know him, can one really really know him? Especially if the one in question has spent more of his life bicycling in a village somewhere in the lush Western Ghats trying to be witty through varying financial crisis. In one clever-ish moment, Billu’s reduction of salon prices leads to a flood of customers, suggesting that as Indians we’ll avail of anything cheap; perhaps our central bank should take note of this in times of recession.
Mr. Khan is much more than a movie star, like Hailey’s comet or Facebook or the Blackberry, he is more of a global phenomena. In fact, in a set of unnecessary scenes trying to establish a fictitious movie star like Mr. Shah Rukh Khan called Sahir Khan, the lavish display of musical numbers, spectacle, entourage, fan following and mass hysteria perhaps fall short of what the real person experiences daily. The night I saw it, the following was overheard during a sequence where Sahir Khan leans out of his helicopter heading to Billu’s village and hundreds of villagers run like cattle following him, “If this was the real Shah Rukh, there would be at least 10,000 more”.
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