In the memoirs of Priyanka Chopra Jonas Unfinished, the actor stops in several cases to try to explain the customs, terms and courts specific to India. At one point, mentioning her stay in the States with her rebellion, she writes, “In India, caring for our children as if they were our own is just part of what we are. It is seen as a duty and a responsibility, not as an imposition. “This approach to over-explanation that limits the reduction continues to be repeated until it is revealed: its story is for everyone, but meant for a global audience.
This consciousness regulates the narrative diet, resulting in a painful and simplistic memory of an extraordinary life, an easy ground for the realization of the Priyanka Chopra myth. Reading it, I kept thinking about the distinct genre that Netflix created and continued with admirable consistency: documentary-like-reality shows. Like memoirs, these shows have a completely Indian cast and destroy the complexities of a country or individuals to fit into an existing mold. The most recent addition to the Netflix list is The big day.
In the last year alone, the streaming giant – accessible in 190 countries – has made room for regression Indian matchmaking and unsatisfactory Fabulous lives of Bollywood wives. Both shows, apart from sharing their optimism about India’s GDP, are linked by treating the country and its people without nuances and contradictions. And while the cachet is Fabulous lives… cancels this critique to some extent, even its lack in Indian matchmaking it reduces him to a misguided attempt. Each rhythm of this is repeated in The big day where the domestic concept of arranged marriage takes the form of the big fat Indian wedding.
Like its predecessor, The big day it is linked as representing a practice, whose perspective in a country like India, by definition, is diverse, unpleasant, affecting, unacceptable and odious. In the show (produced by Condé Nast India) the preparations for an impending wedding are documented by the following couples engaged days before the “big day”. Spread over three episodes – considered to be the first batch of the franchise – it has six weddings reserved for opulence and dazzling myopia. These are elaborate events consisting of cameos from choreographers and Bollywood actors and offering distorted and limited portraits of Indian weddings, without any mention or discussion of the main opponents: caste and class.
But that doesn’t mean they hold back from tokenism. For example, there is an interfaith wedding in the third episode (Gayatri Singh, the daughter of journalist Seema Mustafa with poker commentator Aditya Wadhwani), but the fact that this difference is – and can be – offset by financial affinity is nowhere addressed, except for a ambiguous line: “It fits into our family.”
The central idea of The big day it is based on the rise of modern Indian couples who do not hesitate to take care of their wedding. And, in many cases, non-resident Indians, as well as those outside the country, try to nullify the obvious patriarchal connotations in wedding vows and rituals by doing things their way. More than one couple eliminates kanyadan, wanting to make their weddings personal and equal. But this is completely undone by the inclusion of wedding organizers and, by extension, by orchestrating and corporating their marriage. The staff is professional. Similarly for all discussions and awareness of sustainability, couples fly in their guests from different parts of the world.
But the show’s biggest disservice is the way it despises women who choose to have things their way, pushing them into a separate episode and christening them “Bride Type A,” as a slander. Their involvement is seen as control, their opinion being considered as a statement. This, by mistake, illustrates the lost struggle in which women find themselves, having to participate in an institution that, by design, is inconvenient to them. The passage of time and privilege could have allowed them to cease to be a silent spectator at their weddings, but it also established inappropriate participation as the only proof of presence. All the brides in the show are constantly juggling wedding preparations, while the men – depreciated from any work – sit on the sidelines.
One of the bridegrooms states with abject slander that he is invited to his own wedding. “I didn’t contribute to the design and decor at all.” The only time this work is not emphasized is the same-sex marriage of two men (Tyrone Braganza and Daniel Bauer), who deviates from any conversation about their privilege of enjoying such a “celebration” in the country.
The big day then – just like Indian matchmaking – uses India as a background, pointing the camera at the places they want to see and look at. It feeds on stereotypes without caring enough to examine discrepancies. And in doing so, he supports the idea that the wedding is an excellent leveler, when in fact it is a place of reproduction of prejudice.
For more lifestyle news, follow us: Twitter: lifestyle_ie | Facebook: IE Lifestyle | Instagram: ie_lifestyle