Bollywood's not all raunchy song and dance. Jeremy Hart tries his hand at a car stunt Hindi film style.
"Cue stunt, cue car, cue Vivek... and action..."
His mouth buried in a megaphone, his brow ever so slightly beaded with sweat and his eyes out on stalks, India's most celebrated stunt director Allan Amir's command signals an explosion of drama.
On his call, deep in a ravine in the middle of Mumbai's Film City, a jeep (suspended on wires to hold it just high enough off the ground for a man to lie underneath) cartwheels down the hillside as Vivek Oberoi – Bollywood wannabe heartthrob and India's answer to Tom Cruise – tussles with a baddie just centimetres from the spinning vehicle. In a matter of seconds, vehicle, good guy and the baddie come to a rest in a cloud of dirt.
"....and CUT."
Amir's pleased. Relieved even. Nobody has tried such a stunt before in Bollywood. Today he has broken new ground, but he could have set the relatively new concept of Bollywood stunt driving back a few steps if it had gone wrong.
Changing scene
As recently as three or four years ago, a British or Australian stunt driver would have been picking himself up from the Mumbai dirt. Indian stunt men were limited to fight scenes and jumps. The car stuff was left to specialist foreign stunt drivers.
"That's because the percentage of Indians with driving licences, let alone the skills to drive in a stunt, was tiny," says Amir. "That is all changing. Stunt men here are now learning to do stunt driving too. Of the 500 stunt men in Bollywood, more and more can do stunt driving. They are teaching themselves and learning from the foreign guys who were here.
"There's very little we can't do here now. And when Bollywood starts making car movies like they have been in Hollywood for decades, then the skill levels will go up even faster.
"There have been very, very few movies based on cars here. Tarzan the Wonder Car was one. I worked on a movie called Dhoom, which included more bikes than cars but had some great stunts like riding through a train. I did another called Blackmail where a car jumps over a trailer and another goes under it. We have to be on par with the rest of the world."
In safe hands
Amir has done many of the stunts himself. His rationale is that it is unfair to ask a stunt man to risk his life if he has not gauged the risk himself. His attention to safety means many of the stars like Vivek Oberoi are eager to do their own stunts.
"Some stunt directors just don't have the right respect for life. Allan does," says Oberoi between takes.
"I love doing Allan's stunts, and it's great there are more car stunts being done in Bollywood.
"We did a great one where I am trying to escape. Allan is in the car behind trying to bump me. He hit the car hard. It was awesome. Then there's another where I am in an SUV stuck in sand and a truck is coming right for me. I have to wait for Allan's cue. Too soon and the shot is wasted. Too late and I could get hit. It's great fun."
It is also hazardous. For the really dangerous stunts the likes of Oberoi have to stand back and let their stunt doubles stand in. Guys like Arif Baluch, born to a Bollywood stunt pioneer, a bloke overdosing on bravery and brawn. And a man who chooses the Kill Bill theme for his mobile ringtone.
Arif first drove a car aged 14 and he flipped his first car at the age of 18. Twenty years on, Arif is now a veteran of dozens of movies and over 35 barrel rolls. And so far he has escaped with nothing more than a few cuts and scrapes. Mind you, he looks like an Indian version of Arnie. The kind of guy you want on your side in a bar brawl.
Not the real thing
Arif has ridden with me to Film City today. "Every day driving in Mumbai is like a stunt sequence," he grunts from the passenger seat of our Ford Fusion as we get squeezed from our lane by two buses and then buzzed front and back by swarms of black and yellow three-wheeled scooters.
The Fusion is made in Chennai, one of a new generation of Indian-made cars. It is popular in Bollywood. A few of the stars have them for zapping about the clogged streets of India's biggest city, although some of the stars figure a big 4x4 like the Toyota Prado is a better way of dealing with the daily game of bumper cars.
After watching Amir's stunt sequence, Arif is going to teach me the tricks of the trade. The Fusion will be my stunt car in a lesson on crashing through a wall and doing a chase. Arif has a Ford stunt car too. Not a real one though. One of the machines he uses for chases is a Daewoo that has been bastardised to look like a Mustang.
"It is common in Bollywood because it is not always possible to get the real thing," says producer Sameer Redij, whose company 909 Productions works on many big shoots and will also give outsiders a chance to perform in their own Bollywood movie. "We have a garage where the mechanics can make almost any car from another. We could make a Ferrari from your Fusion if you like..."
Stunt driving in Film City
At night the woods and clearings that litter Film City are teeming with wildlife like leopards and monkeys. But by day, it is alive with thousands of crews making dozens of movies at a time.
Our set is just down the hill from Allan Amir's. Sameer's crew have blocked off a road and set up a wall for my lesson. The place is buzzing with people; stage hands, cameramen, sound men, caterers and even a prop man (who has everything from wooden guns to uniforms) to make our stunt look authentic. Parked nearby is the 'Mustang', painted the yellow of lumpy school lemon curd.
Arif sits me down in a director's chair for my pep talk. He says, after successfully negotiating the Mumbai traffic (he even bestows me with the title of Mumbaiwallah), the stunts will be much more predictable and more exciting. But my pulse is still racing from the urban adventure we've just had...
"Stunt driving is all about precision, hitting the mark and doing it at the right moment," says Arif, whose favourite movie is The Car. "We'll start with the wall. Okay?"
I've never driven through a wall. Not even a stunt wall. Believe it or not, there is a technique. Walking me up to the four-foot construction, Arif points to where he wants me to hit it. The bricks might be foam but they are heavy, and hitting them at the wrong angle or speed could damage the car, injure the crew and... ruin the shot.
"Okay?" Arif asks as we climb into the Fusion. I nod.
"And action..." calls Sameer over the radio.
"About 40 or 50 kilometres an hour will be fine," he instructs. As we only have a run up of about 50 metres, I stamp on the accelerator and let the clutch out with vengeance. Dust flies up from the front wheels as we pick up speed. I can see the looks on the faces of the crew either side of the wall. Concern, terror, apprehension and anticipation. The whole spectrum of expressions light up as the Fusion gathers pace.
From a distant hurdle on the horizon, the wall suddenly looms large, bigger than I remember. Size doesn't matter now. We are past the point of no return. Even if I brake, the Fusion will still hit the wall. So I make my mind up to enjoy the impact.
My brain registers the precise moment of contact in slo-mo. I see the bumper kiss the bricks. I see the blue bonnet follow through like a sledgehammer. Bricks fly up and out in all directions – many right at me, bouncing off the windscreen like brick-sized flies splatting on the glass.
For a split second I can see nothing but foam bricks. Knowing there are people either side of my trajectory, I hold the wheel solid but wince, ready for something to crunch, shatter or scrape.
But those noises never come. As the last brick bounces free from the bonnet the only sounds are the engine revving, my heart pounding, Arif cheering and finally, over the radio, Sameer's words "...and CUT."
