Influencers are known for feigning vulnerability, exaggerating their claims of sharing deep-seated truths. Not Kusha Kupila, though. In an interview with the British newspaper, The Independent, she opened up about how deeply troubled she was by jokes made at her expense in an episode of her comedian friend Ashish Solanki’s show, Pretty Good Roast.
Standup comedians, including Solanki and Samay Raina, made jokes about Kapila’s recent divorce, weight loss, and her acting career.
Kapila’s personal feelings aside, the episode highlights the disturbing nature of roasts as dictated by the comedy format. It’s quite simple: a famous person offers themselves up to be consumed and ripped to shreds by fellow public figures, and the audience laughs. The deeper and more unacceptable the dig, the bigger the laughs. One would assume that even if a celebrity consents to being ‘roasted’, there are certain lines that wouldn’t be crossed.
India’s entry
There’s an endless list of celebrities who have allowed themselves to be chewed up by their peers and contemporaries. Mostly done in the West, the roast made an explosive, infamous entry into the Indian pop culture scene when Bollywood actors Ranveer Singh and Arjun Kapoor were roasted by comedians from the erstwhile collective All India Bakchod.
The backlash was enormous. The video was taken off all streaming services, and everyone involved received legal notices. This, of course, was counterproductive; everyone who wanted to watch the episode could easily access the pirated version.
If the disproportionate reaction was magically erased from public memory, what would remain is this: the jokes were in extremely poor taste. That’s not necessarily on the comedians and writers; it’s what’s mandated by the form.
The roast essentially replicates a schoolyard bullying scene. There’s the bully, the one being bullied, and, of course, those who are complicit — the voyeuristic and the bystanders. As audience members and consumers of entertainment, we take on this role wholeheartedly and without guilt.
Charlie Sheen’s 2011 roast was Comedy Central’s most watched, drawing in 6.5 million viewers. A 2015 roast of Justin Bieber was watched by 4.4 million people. Both were at their peak — Sheen in terms of his infamy, and Bieber, who has always been equal parts adored and hated.
Lowly effort
The personal lives of celebrities are always public fodder and always will be. The rise of influencers testifies to the extent to which you can commercialise and commodify your life. The avalanche of hate is neutralised by the money that flows in.
Roasts can be viewed from the same lens. However, comedic trends have always ranged from self-deprecating to self-hating to just hating everyone. And trends are framed by what appeals to the public, which, in this case, is unkindness.
Not to sound preachy or moralistic, but there is something concerning about the staggering popularity of roasts and the craze that surrounds them. There’s no nuance, not much thought that goes into the jokes. It’s a low-quality, easy-money endeavour. And perhaps that’s why they continue to be made.
Social contexts have changed. As a whole, society is more politically correct, more mindful of language and the contexts in which certain words and behaviours have come of age. Many things, in this age of hypersensitivity, do not fly. The backlash is instantaneous. This doesn’t mean people have become kinder — there’s a great deal of posturing involved. But that’s what makes it all the more strange that roasts continue to thrive.
In Kusha Kapila’s case, at least she has been allowed to express her dismay and is receiving a decent amount of support for not being on board with the cruelty that’s part and parcel of comedy. Back in the day, in the supposed golden era of AIB — whose members subsequently came under the radar for their own dubious stances and practices and are now nowhere to be seen — this would be unthinkable.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Prashant)