mukund shyam

Nirmal Pillai's pseudo-love story set in Bangalore is, at its core, a good movie. It's definitely not something groundbreaking—not that that's a bad thing, but more on that later—but it's a well-thought out idea executed reasonably well.

In terms of the craft of filmmaking, I don't think Bata Boy and Crocs Girl is brilliant by any means. It certainly gives off vibes of being made on a small budget—for instance, the movie is almost entirely dubbed rather than recorded on site; and so, in a lot of cases inconsistencies between lip movements and audio are obvious. Similarly, there is some inconsistency in the acting; notably, one of the titular characters is said to be a Rajasthani from Bombay, and yet has an accent that is more akin to someone from the South.
Not that all of this takes away from the experience at all; in many respects, the opposite is true. The ad-hoc-ness makes it really feel like the creators wanted to say something with this film.

The strongest aspects of this movie are definitely the conceptualisation and writing. It deals with themes that are tremendously relevant in modern India.
Plus, the movie really doesn't take itself too seriously, which I really appreciated. It was an emotionally charged movie in many respects, and yet, it manages to repeatedly break the fourth wall without seeming too forced or anything.
The decisions to also subvert "classical" filmmaking tropes and scenes in unique ways (the house party, the kiss scene, and more) really adds to the experience.
Finally, the structure of the film—the nonlinear storytelling model with a non-Zoomer podcast host to bring all of us (viewer and character) back down to earth—was not only interesting but also extremely effective.

Another theme that this film touches on is love; and it does so in a politically covert sense.
The movie points to the more problematic aspects of modern urban love—the reliance on mutual friends, whether physically or on Instagram; a difficulty to make commitments; and the ubiquity of dating apps (more on this later), are well depicted.
Additionally, it represents the political nature of modern, urban, middle-class courtship expectations, as it were, but not in a way that it became the single most important focus of the movie.

Spoilers ahead.

Most urban Gen-Z adults, even in India, seem to exist in a weird pseudo-progressive sociopolitical sphere. Gen Z women, particularly in the US, are among the most progressive people there are.
Ishita does seem to embody this, especially in the context of India. She takes charge of her own love life, is generally sex-positive (at least in the context, again, of India), and is—in her refusal to label the relationship—anti-heteronormative. To his credit, Gokul goes along and exists in this pseudo-progressive space with her.
This almost fanatical commitment to progressive ideologies (eg. wanting to focus on one's own career, travel, meet new people), in the context of rising feminist presence in urban middle-class India, seems relevant; in the sense that it has large-scale impacts on her relationship with Gokul (notably, its ending).

This difficulty to make commitment can be read in the context of her Bumble notification at the end of the movie. The access to dating apps—and by extension the perceived access to an infinitely large dating pool—could have pushed her to try and find the "perfect" guy; "leaving" Gokul under the facade of not being ready to make commitments and being scared of messing things up.
Now, here's the thing. I don't want to simply blame Ishita for the falling apart of the relationship; that would be far too convenient, biased, and close to incel ideology for my liking.
Further, I just don't think that's true. I think Ishita's difficulty to commit is real; perhaps due to poor dating experiences in the past or perhaps due to certain implicit ideological commitments that have become the default for a certain sect of the population—liberals/progressives, young people, urban people, women. Whatever the case may be. Plus, the ceaseless influence of patriarchal, heteronormative structures particularly on young women who are forced to engage, daily, in acts of resistance to maintain a semblance of control over their own lives cannot be ignored.
In this sense, Ishita and Gokul's relationship's end is not something that occurred because of certain individuals' actions (which people with more conservative politics love to point to), but rather because of the constant impact of social structures on their lives, dictating how they function in their specific socio-politico-economic context.

One of the main themes that Bata Boy and Crocs Girl deals with is the idea of middle class alienation. This isn't introduced overtly—perhaps only except during an aftercare conversation between our titular characters—but certainly seems to play a role in the protagonists' lives.

This is seen clearly in the lives of both Ishita and Gokul—the former is an architect that loves her job but either (a) cannot keep a job or (b) is underpaid. The latter is a classic Bangalore story; born somewhere, studied somewhere, got placed in a company in Bangalore, and now works there. He has a good job—insofar as a good job is a job that pays well—but doesn't particularly like working there. He seems to be living the life that only his parents want him to live; nothing simply for himself. This, of course, are perhaps the two main forms of alienation that most middle-class young Indian white-collar workers seem to find themselves in.

Gokul, in some sense, has "fulfilled" the dreams of social mobility and financial stability promised to most Indian students nowadays—he seems to be ostensibly well-studied and well-placed—but suffers wildly in a number of ways. For one, he doesn't have very amazing social skills (he relied on more socially savvy Ishita to make the first move). He also doesn't particularly like his job (or at least isn't particularly passionate about it), but has "plans" for the future (which inevitably will not solve this lack of passion).
He represents the person who eventually realises that everything that has been fed to him from his schooldays does not actually help him; getting good grades, getting into a good college, and getting a good job doesn't actually make you "set for life", given that there is far more required for a good life than simply financial stability. The dream—however likely or unlikely it is to be achieved—is not his.

Ishita is the alternative; she followed her dreams and went against the grain. She did something she was really passionate about; but her characterisation also offers useful and important insight into the reality of economic life in India.
She is the Crocs Girl; she comes from some level of privilege. She was able to afford the opportunity to do something she loved. And yet... she is alienated. She isn't getting work, and thus, the passion is being sucked out of her. It is turning into a burden.

These characters, in some respect, are being displayed in contrast to the Boss Beer owner. He seems to come from wealth, given his Porsche and his being called "spoiled"; and thus is able to start a business. He seems far more successful (at least materially) than our titular characters; but he's a complete nuisance. This characterisation serves to showcase modern India's widening inequality—the entrepreneur isn't a particularly savvy guy, simply repeating talking points about his beer, and yet is wildly rich; far richer than even the relatively privileged Ishita.

I think, at its core, this film is a love letter to Bangalore. A city filled with weird characters, beautiful locations, and crazy social pressures.

As a Bangalorean, I suppose I am biased. Over the last 4 years or so, I've begun to love this city more and more; for all its good bits and bad. It will, probably, forever be to me the best city in the world.

Diversity is, obviously, characteristic of Bangalore, and this movie absolutely represents that (at least in some respect). It uses five languages in total, which seems insane... but these are all languages you hear here all the time. And I'm almost certain most of the Bangalorean population would be able to understand at least 3 of these languages.

But what am I to say here. Honestly, it's just really nice to see a movie that is so overtly a love letter to Bangalore, shooting in places that are so unbelievably famous in this city and adapting mannerisms and patterns that are commonplace here. This kind of representation is honestly just such a joy. Just for a select few people like me, sure, but still; I really do want to appreciate it. It was absolutely wonderful.

I really enjoyed this movie, despite its technical "faults", so to speak. It managed to say so much despite having seemingly such a limited budget, reinforcing to me the importance of message in art. At some level, I do really believe that if you have a certain message to say, and if your art conveys it well, it transcends the need for technical proficiency.

Thanks for reading.