In his 1977 essay “Death of an Author,” literary theorist Roland Barthes proposed a radical shift in the relationship between the reader and the text, suggesting that the meaning of a text is not inherently tied to the author’s identity. The seminal essay served as the framework for several works departing from the modernist approach, thus laying the foundation for postmodernism to emerge as a movement in the arts.
In fact, it had far-reaching implications for literary theory and the broader cultural landscape, including cinema. Moreover, “Death of an Author” signified that the author is merely a historically constructed figure and the reading of a text relies significantly on the reader, thus allowing a novel understanding of the author-reader-text relationship.
A demonstration of Barthes’ ideas happens in Jean-Luc Godard‘s Breathless (1960), wherein Godard—a leading figure in the French New Wave—locates scenes from American films in the streets of Paris. By using these familiar American cinematic tropes, Godard critiques the pervasive influence of American consumer culture while also demonstrating an intertextual relationship that calls attention to the viewer’s role in constructing meaning. The film’s protagonist, a Bogart-obsessed criminal, reflects a cinephilic sensibility, introducing a layer of self-aware homage to Hollywood, which can be read as both a critique and a celebration of American cinematic traditions.
Even though Breathless (1960) is often cited as one of the earliest influential examples of postmodern aesthetics in cinema, the influence of postmodern aesthetics has expanded across global film industries, including Hindi cinema, over the past sixty years. Post the 1990s, a new form of cinematic language emerged within Bollywood—a colloquial term used to refer to the mainstream Hindi film industry—marked by the parallel emergence of a middle class and a transnational audience.
The aesthetics of the Hindi film thus shifted dramatically. It was marked by greater use of high-end technology, a digression from the conventional formula that entailed a sequence cutting to a song, and a merger of the popular with the parallel. A new generation of young directors emerged, determined to create films reflecting the changing social and cultural landscape while preserving the quintessential ‘masala‘ of Hindi cinema.
The emerging filmmakers sought to balance novelty with tradition, telling stories that resonated with contemporary ideas without abandoning the genre’s popular appeal and formulaic style. What has been often referred to as the New Bollywood, the term describes films that display a strong sense of postmodern aesthetic, which, by virtue of its being, often critiques the industry from within.
Farah Khan and Ram Gopal Varma are some directors who have created films that have disrupted the norm in Bollywood. Farah Khan is the first female director to achieve commercial success in the Hindi film industry. Her filmography can be an exciting case study for understanding postmodernity in Hindi cinema.
Harbouring a Love for Hindi Cinema: Lived Experiences, Cinephilia, and Reverence
Farah made her directorial debut with Main Hoon Na (2004), an action-dramedy about an army major going undercover on a mission that affects him professionally and personally. Starring Shah Rukh Khan, it became the second highest-grossing film of 2004 and was praised for its neutral take on the India-Pakistan conflict. The film blended college romance, music, and action, marking a successful start to Farah’s career as a director.
Her next film, Om Shanti Om (OSO) (2007), a melodrama about a reincarnated actor seeking revenge, became the highest-grossing film of the year. Tees Maar Khan (TMK) (2010), however, was her first box office failure. Despite its negative reviews, it later gained a cult following for its quirky, bizarre style. Farah’s last film, Happy New Year (2014), was another hit, though it received mixed reviews. It combined a dance heist and a revenge plot, becoming the second-highest-grossing film of the year.
Farah’s films reflect her love for Hindi cinema and her knack for creating entertaining, conventional Bollywood stories. In fact, Farah’s affinity for films and desire to make films came from her lived experience. By her admission, her childhood was no less than a Hindi film. Kamran Khan—Farah Khan’s father—was a stuntman turned producer in the 1960s and 1970s. After losing a fair share of their wealth when one of his films flopped, he turned to alcoholism to cope. Farah has shared in several interviews that the family became poor in no time.
Moreover, there is a deep love and knowledge of cinema which, in turn, governs the taste of what she creates in terms of story, performances, aesthetics, narratives, and how she uses intertextual references and extra-filmic elements. As a result, even though her films tend to tackle conventional plot points—a son avenging his father, a con man sought by the police, pulling off a heist and emerging successful in his pursuit, an ordinary man reincarnating to become a star—there is an exciting play of irony and intertextuality ridden with self-awareness.
Farah’s films are crafted to resemble classic Bollywood, but they also have a unique, distinct style that appeals to both mainstream and alternative tastes. This creates a more thoughtful and engaging viewing experience, inviting the audience to connect with the films on a deeper, more reflective level.
Unpacking Intertextuality: Irony, Stereotypes, and Allusions in Om Shanti Om
The best case study to illustrate the ideas above is Om Shanti Om (OSO), which Farah calls a love letter to the industry. It came about as a response to Farah’s experience as a young woman who saw the industry from the inside. Farah grew up around incidents that inspired her to film OSO. She lived in a community where people from the industry—producers, directors, writers, composers, and others—also resided.
The first draft came only after she choreographed for ‘Bombay Dreams,’ a Bollywood-themed musical initially produced by Andrew Lloyd Webber in London. The musical showcases the story of Aakash, a young boy from Mumbai’s slums who dreams of becoming a star. As someone who knew the industry closely, Farah never felt connected with the story.
“Jhoppad patti ka ladka bada star tabhi banega jab uska punar janam hoga actor ke ghar me (The boy from the slum will only become a big star when he is reborn into an actor’s family.),” she shared.
OSO references previous films, filmmakers, and songs, allowing the spectators to experience the “thrill of recognition.” Newcomer Deepika Padukone‘s character Shanti Piya is inspired by Hema Malini, who was called ‘Dream Girl’ in the 70s and 80s. Her walk and gestures reminded one of Hema, allowing a tinge of nostalgia. Pappu (Shreyas Talpade) tells Om that to really excel in this industry, you need to be one of the ‘Kapoor,’ referencing the famous Kapoor family that has been in the industry for the last four generations.
This goes on with the song Dhoom Tanana, wherein we see Deepika romancing legendary actors like Sunil Dutt and Rajesh Khanna in their prominent songs.
Even the name OSO is inspired by a popular song from the film Karz (1980). In the opening shot, we see a film poster on the wall of RC Studios. The star-studded ensemble of Deewangi Deewangi showcases the industry like a big happy factory. In an interview with Anupama Chopra, Farah recalled that the film’s set was filled with camaraderie—actors would eagerly wait to see each other’s shots, and the energy on set was infectious.
The film also hinges immensely on stereotypes. This cliche that the mother knows everything is what the film hinges on. Bollywood has long popularised this idea wherein the mother is seen as a figure with divine knowledge. This has come about to become a widely accepted formula. Om’s mother in OSO, played by Kirron Kher, is also shown to be that. She can recognize Om from his previous life even when he is OK. She is also of this belief that Om will make it as a star in the films. Her belief is shown to be very strong throughout the film.
Since the intertextual allusion often showcases an overlap of reality and fiction, OSO features a segment wherein Om Kapoor is at the Filmfare Awards, which takes the postmodern aesthetic to an extreme, something that has never been seen before in a mainstream Hindi film.
Exploring Dimensions of Intertextuality: A Look at Tees Maar Khan
Farah takes her over-the-top, zany style a notch higher in TMK (2010). The film was a box office failure. However, the film has found its cult following over the last decade. This resurgence in popularity can be attributed to the rise of the internet and the growing influence of online fan communities, which have contributed to the film’s rediscovery and newfound appreciation.
The influence of Italian director Vittorio De Sica‘s After the Fox (1966) is very evident in TMK which follows a similar premise wherein a conman who has deceived his mother into believing he is a film director, tries to affect a heist from a train carrying treasure. This leads to a situation where we watch the (re)making of a 1940s-era Hindi film within the framework and apparatus of a contemporary Hindi film. The result is thus a postmodern blend of humor and style, with the narrative unfolding as a heist-comedy.
The film embraces over-the-top, slapstick humor, often absurd and exaggerated, to communicate a sense of farcicality. TMK, in turn, mocks Bollywood while exaggerating the tropes of Hindi films.
The film features a celebrated, winsome, cunning thief, Tabrez Mirza Khan (popularly called Tees Maar Khan), who can “break all locks, escape all prisons.” We see a testament of the same when he escapes jail by saving people in an airplane from a trap he laid. He later plans to loot a train carrying ancient artifacts with his gang.
To affect this loot, they create the garb of a film shoot featuring actor Aatish Kapoor ( Akshaye Khanna), who is known to be desperate for an Oscar. The shoot happens in Dhulia, where the people, away from all these relatives, are happy to have a film shoot happening in their village, hoping it will also allow them some financial benefits.
This premise of TMK is absurd. Tabrez’s elaborate plan to steal a treasure, along with many gags and comedic moments, are linked to the ridiculousness of his scheme. It is not just the dialogue but the sheer silliness of the situations themselves that drive the humor.
Furthermore, the film uses several meta-references that meet real life, making this a strong case of intertextuality. Anya (Katrina Kaif) is shooting for a song in ‘Mehboob Studios’ where music composer Vishal Dadlani—an identifiable presence on the reality singing shows then—plays a tharki (perverted) producer who promises to sign a contract for a film with her after she visits a hotel room with him, a self-critical spin on the practice of casting couch in the industry.
In another instance, Tabrez Mirza claims that he is the director of Om Shanti Om, another meta-reference that adds a tinge of humor. The same happens when we see Aatish Kapoor theatrically yearning for an Oscar after the release of ‘’Dumbdog Millionaire,’ a spin on Danny Boyle‘s Oscar-nominated film Slumdog Millionaire (2008). Aatish’s overblown, emotional longing is an insider’s critique of the actors and directors in the industry who were obsessed with the Oscar and hoping to dazzle the Academy after the success of Slumdog Millionaire.
At the shoot of a particular film, one of Tabrez’s stooge, Dollar, quips himself as a big fan of actor Chunky Pandey but quickly denies his statement. Understanding his joke can only happen if one has an idea of Chunky Pandey’s career graph in the industry. Tabrez introduces himself as “Manoj ‘Day’ Ramalan,” a name inspired by American director M ‘Night’ Shyamalan.
Moreover, the phrase ‘Day Ho,’ another spin on the song Jai Ho from Slumdog Millionaire, and Burger being on call with Aamir Khan while casting Aatish Kapoor are also intertextual references that add to the viewer’s interest.
The film’s second half takes one through shooting a ‘Bharat ka Khazana’ (India’s Treasure) about India’s freedom struggle in the village. The entire process of making a bogus film with the villagers of Dhulia appears like a parody of Lagaan (2001). The presence of Tabrez, masquerading as an American director of Indian origin, almost creates a spectacle of the villagers being colonized.
Aatish comes to the village in a helicopter, and all villagers stand with placards that read “Welcome to Dhulia,” an imagery reminiscent of the British coming to India. The process of working on ‘Bharat ka Khazana’ is laden with clichés and tropes, serving as a self-reflection on the exploitation inherent in the film industry wherein filmmakers enter marginalized communities and profit from their stories, exploiting them in the process.
The “Bharat ka Khazana” film (produced by the villagers in the movie) being both mocked and celebrated within the narrative is an apparent jab at the bizarre contradictions within the industry—films that may be poorly made or inauthentic are still celebrated as “masterpieces” by critics especially if they are presented in a “Westernized” context.
Final Words
In postmodern cinema, pastiche is a dominant device, and Farah Khan’s films embody this concept fully. Pastiche, in the context of film and television, refers to a cinematic technique where a filmmaker directly mimics the style, cinematography, or iconic moments from another work, often paying tribute to the original while adding a new layer of interpretation. Farah Khan’s entire filmography functions as a homage to Hindi cinema, celebrating its iconic moments, genres, and stars, while also subverting them with a sense of self-awareness and critique.
Even when intertextuality is unrestrained in both OSO and TMK, a difference lies in the latter’s cynicism of the industry. In the case of OSO, we witness the film unfold with utmost optimism, which is not the case with TMK. The movie tries to critique the Bollywood machine—from its sleazy underbelly to its inflated sense of self. The mocking of fandom (mainly rural, impoverished spectators) points to the disconnect between the film industry’s glossy surface and its natural audience, which is often overlooked by those in the industry.
Her films are deeply embedded in the cultural norms and cinematic traditions of the Indian film industry. The subtle references to other films, the exaggerated performances, and the playful, yet insightful, commentary on popular cinema are what define her work. What sets her apart, however, is how she simultaneously embraces and critiques the very industry she works within. In this way, Farah Khan’s work transcends simple homage; it becomes a dialogue with the past, challenging the audience to reconsider both the form and content of popular Hindi cinema.
Article Courtesy of Anjani Chadha
Feature Image Still from ‘Tees Maar Khan;’ Credit to UTV Motion Pictures via IMDb