Indie Series: ‘NCR Days’ Is What Happens When Sponsors Get Too Involved
There’s no freedom greater than the flexibility to create without any restrictions. Autonomy from major film studios and production companies, ideal though it may seem, comes with its own set of challenges such as securing financial backing and marketing the product. This is why content creators often find themselves in the tough position of having to negotiate opportunistic patronage.
Independent yet so deeply indebted to its sponsor that its integrity is severely compromised, NCR Days is the perfect example of this dilemma. This Indian web series is made by independent content creators though it doesn’t take long to figure out that it is a lengthy and dramatic commercial for a college and job placement catalyst (we’ll leave the name out since the show already slips it in far too many times) that involves storylines to keep potential clients engaged. It’s no different than influencers infiltrating our feeds—in practice and in effect—except the show at hand is far more blatant and shameless about it.
The series embodies what it boldly discloses in the second episode: “Marketing fools you; see through it.” What’s ironic, however, is that the show’s marketing is too easy to see through. The same company that is persistently trying to lure its viewers into pursuing an MBA isn’t even adept at the type of marketing it preaches.
The YouTube series was made by a “Millennial Focused Lifestyle Channel” called the Timeliners that explores the struggles of younger generations. A lot of their content highlights the clash between modern and orthodox India, but their storytelling lacks conviction because of their both-sides approach.
NCR Days is set in India’s National Capital Region, i.e., the New Delhi metropolitan area. As per the masthead, its general themes are “Dreams, Dosti (friendship) and MBA,” though it’s actually poverty, education (they don’t really work an angle on this; it’s used mostly as a backdrop that allows them to sprinkle in their pitches and minions) and unrealistic prospects of love. These topics are layered and complex, but the show never quite moves past the clichés and regressive tropes of Bollywood that one might expect from an independent project. Just like the mainstream Indian film business, the subject matter not only succumbs to popular trends but doubles down on them.
The three protagonists each represent a regressive trope popular in the Indian entertainment space. Their stories are simplistic and reductive, and serve to propagate MBA degrees and the businesses around them. The plot goes something like this: two men and a woman cross paths through a string of coincidences in their MBA program. Over five episodes, both male characters successfully redeem themselves despite their questionable behavior that doesn’t deserve second chances, while their female peer helps them become better.
Monu is an endearing misogynist who comes to the NCR region to enhance his credibility as an MBA student so Nidhi, his girlfriend, would convince her family to let her marry him. He treats her horribly and takes her for granted, but when her parents arrange for her to marry another person who already has an MBA degree, Monu decides it’s time to better himself. The writers of the show don’t shy away from warning viewers that your girl will leave you for someone who has an MBA degree, and they aren’t at all subtle with it. During a lunch break at Monu’s low-paying job, office workers are seen gathering around a computer to enroll in MBA programs through the sponsor’s website. One of the employees tells a cautionary tale about a co-worker losing his long-term girlfriend to someone with an MBA degree — not only does this make women out to be shallow and greedy but also reliant on men for status and success. Sure enough, Monu sets out to the big city to increase his chances of gaining approval from Nidhi’s family.
The writers fail to address the pressing issues at hand, namely the transactional nature of arranged marriages and the crippling poverty of India that forces people into it. They choose to focus on how to finesse these traditions instead of shedding light on the suffering they cause. Monu is always quirky, silly and optimistic because the writers need the comic relief to contrast the stoic masculinity of the other, more attractive male figure.
Naveen is the stereotypical male lead in Indian cinema: serious, closed off and completely opposed to smiling. He’s from the big city and his knack for casual violence makes him the opposite of Monu, who is supposed to be the “little guy.” He keeps bad company and often gets into trouble. In fact, his father dramatically dies of a heart attack because of his irresponsible behavior — a warning to stay away from trouble that is just about as convincing as “get your MBA or your girl will leave you.” His decision to enroll in an MBA program so his mother doesn’t suffer the same fate is a road parallel to his path to redemption, and he is fortunate to have the support of a dreamy-eyed girl in the same cohort.
Seher is a calm, level-headed and sophisticated woman who repeated attributes coincidences (something the series relies heavily on to keep bringing the three protagonists together) to the “magic of god.” She is an embodiment of perfection, so it’s no surprise that she also happens to express herself best in English, while the goon (Naveen) and uncouth out-of-towner (Monu) are as stereotypically “traditional” in their modes of communication as can be. They remain committed to this practice to the point where she speaks in English while the others respond in Hindi in the same conversation. The showrunners feel the need to adorn her character with props like “branded coffee” and a fluency in Bachata in their attempt to add a glow to things that are foreign to Indian culture.
Her moralizing speeches are the annoying counterpart to the rationalizations of Nidhi, who is perhaps the only likeable character in the entire series. Seher’s inability conversate without philosophizing adds to the string of performances that lack a human touch, further damaging the show’s reputation. Though the actors show sparks of brilliance in their performances, the script prevents them from maximizing their potential because the plot is unconvincing.
The writers only seem concerned with demonstrating how the MBA programs they’re pushing host people from all walks of life, and at no point do the narratives seem to hold their own. After being suffocated by its sponsors and borrowing the worst tropes from Bollywood, NCR Days raises the following question: is this series independent for the sake of creative freedom or was collaborating with an academic agency their only way of getting the material off the ground? If you watch even a few episodes, you’ll probably be inclined to go with the latter.
