Sense & Sensibility

Sense and Sensibility has always been a story close to my heart. I first discovered Jane Austen while studying literature in college, and I instantly fell in love with her writing. Among her works, Sense and Sensibility stood out to me with its beautiful exploration of emotion and reason, the delicate interplay of love, loss, and societal expectations. Imagine my joy when, during my final year of college—a year where I had fully embraced my passion for literature—Ang Lee’s adaptation of the novel was released.

Emma Thompson, one of my favourite actresses, not only starred as Elinor Dashwood but also wrote the script. Her adaptation beautifully captured the essence of Austen’s work. The year this film came out was a wonderful one for me, filled with personal contentment and a deepening love for literature. It felt like a perfect alignment: one of my favorite books brought to life by someone I admired.

The cast was nothing short of extraordinary. Kate Winslet, who played the sensitive and passionate Marianne Dashwood, burst onto the scene for me. This was the first time I had seen her perform, and she captivated me instantly. Of course, Alan Rickman’s portrayal of Colonel Brandon added a depth of quiet longing and sincerity that made him unforgettable. His tender yet restrained devotion to Marianne was delivered with such subtlety that you couldn’t help but root for him. And then there was Hugh Grant, portraying Edward Ferrars with his signature mix of charm and awkwardness. His performance brought the comic timing needed to balance the film’s more tragic moments.

What made the film remarkable for me was the way it navigated between comedy and tragedy. Thompson’s script effortlessly balanced the comic relief found in awkward social situations with the deeper emotions of unspoken love and personal sacrifice. There’s a certain emotional rise and fall to the movie, a tempered build-up that reflects life’s natural ebb and flow. The highs and lows, the elevation and depression of Austen’s narrative, were captured so vividly, it felt like watching a delicate dance.

Nearly 30 years have passed since I first saw it, yet I still consider it one of the finest Austen adaptations. I can quote its dialogues by heart, and some of its comic moments still lift my spirits when I think of them. It’s a timeless piece that catapulted Kate Winslet into stardom, leading her to even greater heights with Titanic. But for me, Sense and Sensibility will always remain special—a film that arrived in my life at the perfect moment, one that still holds a cherished place in my heart.

Amar Prem Ki Horrible Kahani

Amar Prem Ki Prem Kahani is a colossal disappointment that somehow manages to trivialize every important aspect of the LGBT experience in India. If you’re looking for meaningful representation or thoughtful storytelling, do yourself a favor and re-watch Shubh Mangal Zyada Savdhaan or Badhaai Do. Those films, at least, attempted to address the complex layers of coming out, familial acceptance, and queer relationships with some degree of respect.

This movie, however, is nothing short of a cringe fest. The themes of coming out, navigating family pressures, and the possibility of having an Indian wedding are treated with such laziness that it feels more like a poorly scripted soap opera than a real attempt at tackling these serious issues. Instead of nuanced discussions, we’re handed over-the-top dramatics and dialogue that seem written for shock value rather than sincerity.

The worst offense is that it seems like a desperate attempt to piggyback off the success of Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahani by throwing in a cheap Bengali-Punjabi rivalry and dressing it up as some sort of “inclusive” remix. But where Rocky Aur Rani had heart and substance, Amar Prem Ki Prem Kahani falls flat. The characters are walking clichés, and the emotional depth of a truly Indian queer experience is completely absent.

The title itself is a disgrace to Amar Prem, Shakti Samanta’s timeless classic that embodied emotional depth and cinematic grace. This sad excuse for a film is not even worthy of being compared. It fails to touch the elegance of comedies like The Birdcage, the searing pathos of Brokeback Mountain, or even the hauntingly beautiful Aligarh, which handled queer struggles in India with heartbreaking precision. Even Kapoor & Sons, a film that showed restraint in not having its gay characters kiss, offered more emotional resonance and subtlety than this hollow disaster.

The end result? A tacky, outdated mess that insults the intelligence of its audience and does more harm than good to the cause of LGBT representation.

FRIENDS

The sitcom Friends has long been celebrated as a cultural touchstone for its humor, iconic characters, and portrayal of friendships in New York City. However, watching it again two decades later, the show reveals some cringe-worthy moments, especially for those of us in the LGBTQ+ community. As a proud and out gay man, it’s hard to ignore the problematic tone the show adopts in several episodes.

One of the most glaring issues is Chandler’s attitude toward his father, who is portrayed as transgender. Instead of accepting or even attempting to understand his father’s identity, Chandler often resorts to jokes and derision, feeding into outdated stereotypes.

Throughout the series, Chandler is frequently mistaken for being gay, and he constantly reacts with exaggerated discomfort or anxiety. This recurring joke plays into the idea that being seen as gay is embarrassing or something to be avoided, which subtly reinforces homophobic attitudes. There’s even a flashback episode where Chandler talks about being afraid of “turning gay” because his parents got divorced. This comment reduces complex personal issues to a baseless fear of homosexuality, implying that being gay is something undesirable or linked to emotional trauma.

This discomfort with LGBTQ+ identities is a recurring theme throughout the series, with many characters expressing unease around gay people, whether through homophobic jokes or dismissive attitudes.

Take, for example, the episode where Ross and Brad Pitt’s character cruelly joke that Rachel is a hermaphrodite. The comment isn’t just off-color; it shows a total disregard for sensitivity and the real-life experiences of intersex individuals. When Carol and Susan get married, the ceremony is treated as a novelty, with some characters expressing awkwardness about attending. Though the show deserves credit for airing a lesbian wedding at a time when this was rarely seen on TV, it was still framed in a way that made the audience feel like it was an oddity.

Similarly, Monica and Chandler’s treatment of their maid—accusing her of stealing Monica’s clothes—feels not only overblown but abusive. The way Monica handles that situation, fueled by her insecurities, highlights a troubling power dynamic.

Joey’s character, known for his womanizing ways, also offers moments of toxic masculinity that now feel outdated. He’s perfectly fine with sleeping around, but when it comes to his sister being pregnant, he can’t handle it. Then there’s the issue of his discomfort with grooming and self-care, reinforcing the stereotype that men who take care of their appearance are somehow less masculine. In one episode, Phoebe even calls Joey a “woman” for grooming himself, though Monica rightfully stands up for him. Similarly, Joey’s comments about men doing their eyebrows being “sissy” is another eye-rolling moment.

Joey often makes offhand comments that imply being gay is something to be avoided, like when he jokingly warns Ross about the dangers of hanging out with his lesbian ex-wife and her partner. He treats the idea of being around gay people as if it’s a threat to his own masculinity. Whenever Chandler or Joey show affection toward each other, it’s often accompanied by homophobic jokes or awkwardness, as if two men expressing close friendship must be shielded by humor to avoid any “gay” connotations.

The show is littered with subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) homophobia. Ross, in particular, stands out in his awkwardness and unease with anything that challenges traditional masculinity. He’s irritated by Sandy, the male nanny, despite Sandy being the perfect caregiver for his child. Rachel defends Sandy, but in the end, he’s still written off because he doesn’t fit into Ross’s heteronormative idea of a nanny. And when they hire a different nanny, Ross’s immediate reaction is sexual—only to find out she’s a lesbian, which Joey, predictably, finds exciting.

There are countless other moments: Mona’s date commenting on Ross’s pink shirt, the ridicule of a gay colleague at Ross’s conference, and the laughter at Ross’s speech when he uses the term “homo erectus.” These are moments that might’ve seemed harmless to straight audiences at the time but are painful and alienating for LGBTQ+ viewers today. Imagine how I felt when these scenes came up when I was struggling to find acceptance in a homophobic society.

In retrospect, Friends often worked for its straight, cisgender audience by reinforcing the norms of the time. But for those of us who see these jokes and storylines through the lens of experience and pride in our identities, the show feels outdated and at times deeply offensive. What was once a comfort watch has become a reminder of the work still needed to challenge and change these ingrained cultural narratives.