Arnab Ray: The order of the ‘Shirtless Phoenix’ called Salman Khan

In the first decade of the 2000s, one could be forgiven for writing Salman Khan off as a spent force. Some failed attempts at Aamir-type serious cinema (Phir Milenge, Kyon Ki),  some two-hero projects (Mujshe Shaadi Karogi, Salaam-e-Ishq, Partner), and most damningly for a supposed superstar, a high number of glorified guest appearances (No Entry, Hum Tumhare Hai Sanam, Baghban, Saawariyaan, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). It’s not that his movies consistently bombed (give or take forgottens like “Garv”) but the verdict from industry-watchers was nearly unanimous — unlike his contemporaries like Shahrukh, Aamir and even Akshay Kumar, Salman did not command the dependable superstar power to make movies succeed purely on his own. Hum Aapke Hai Kaun? That was Madhuri’s hit. Saajan was the music’s, Khamoshi was Bhansali’s and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam was...well...once again Bhansali’s.

There was one exception in the 2000s. Just one true solo hit from the Salman stable. Tere Naam, the remake of the Tamil Sethu, a few hours of old-world 70s-80s style hyper-drama. According to the pundits though, the age of these kinds of “single-screen” potboilers was over, the advent of multiplexes having created a demand for a new, more internationalised Bollywood. The Shahrukh-Aamir model was the one sought to be emulated; slickly shot, sometimes almost exclusively abroad, with supposedly “mature” contemporary stories (Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, My Name is Khan, Three Idiots) and with state-of-the-art technical panache (Don 1 and 2, Ra-One, Ghajini) , targeted mostly at the overseas and the urban English-educated demographic.

However Salman Khan, in an amazing reversal of fortunes, has finally got things right. Since 2009, he has perfected his own formula. Following theTere Naam model he has taken South potboilers, in its entirety or selected elements, and repackaged them as single-screen star-vehicles.

Wafer-thin, utterly brainless plot. Salman Khan in every frame.

Takes off shirt. Dances. Fights. Front-benchers-friendly comedy. Repeat. Rinse. Jingle jingle at the box-office.

Wanted. Dabangg. Ready and now Bodyguard. An amazing hot streak of personal triumphs.

There is little competition for Salman now in his target segment. Aamir Khan makes too few films, sometimes only for himself. Akshay Kumar has overexposed his hand and self-destructed. And Shahrukh Khan, too preoccupied in becoming an international megastar, has abandoned his Ramjaane and Koyla avatars for good, in favour of a more Ethan Hawke-Clark Kent look and feel.

What has helped Salman has been how his own personality is perceived as an extension of the image he portrays on screen.

Whether it be  the way he is or merely the successful execution of a carefully cultivated public persona, Salman is considered to be ‘a man of the people’, neither stiff and over-intellectual nor too pricey and superior-sounding — he is seen in autos, he banters with the stage-hands, he strikes an easy rapport on the reality shows he appears in, cracks jokes at himself and the others. Yet he has taken care to not become over-familiar, the reputation for being short-tempered and moody maintains the star “bad boy” aura. The numerous linkages with some of the prettiest faces in Bollywood make sure he is never away from the headlines.

And as Bodyguard breaks the record of the best opening held by Dabangg and even beats Shahrukh Khan’s opening for My Name in Khan in the UK, the man most famous for playing the guy who loses the girl to the other hero (Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Saajan, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam) finally gets what he has sought ever since Maine Pyar Kiya — a brand identity of his own. Salman Khan has arrived.

— Arnab Ray is the author of the best-selling May I Hebb Your Attention Pliss