In the age of Diljit Dosanjh, where every other singer appears unimportant, comes a documentary about one of his peers. Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous examines the hip hop star’s rise, unravelling and return, not necessarily in that order.
Mozez Singh’s documentary for Netflix explores Singh’s struggle with bipolar disorder and the controversies that have accompanied his meteoric successes in the 2000s. Along the way, we also get a tour of Honey Singh’s hits, including Brown Rang, Blue Eyes, Designer and Lungi Dance for the movie Chennai Express (2013).
Apart from conversations with Honey Singh (real name Hirdesh Singh), there are interviews with his family, notably his sister Sneha. The documentary doesn’t provide a clear chronology of Singh’s career path – his membership of the group Mafia Mundeer before he went solo, for instance. Nor does the film place his popularity within the larger context of the prolific Punjabi music industry.
The focus is on Singh’s management of his mental health issues and his readiness to storm the music scene yet again. Singh talks about breakdowns, medication and the succour he draws from his doctor, spiritual guru and the Sikh faith to which he belongs. The musician drops what he claims are truth bombs about explicit lyrics attributed to him and being allegedly slapped by Shah Rukh Khan during a concert tour.
These revelations mostly turn out to be damp squibs, since much of the information is already available on the internet. What we do learn is that Singh isn’t entirely out of the woods in terms of his condition, and is being looked after by his family members as he tries to regain his popularity.
The 80-minute film has a jagged structure and a distracting shooting style that confuses frequent zoom-ins on Singh’s visage with insight into his mind. While Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous can’t prevent itself from being a puff piece about its subject, it has welcome fillings of honesty and disagreement. The film is clearly on Singh’s side, but it does take the trouble to check up on dissenting voices too.
Journalist and Indian hip hop chronicler Bhanuj Kappal supplies both background and critique of Singh’s achievements. Director Mozez Singh too tries from time to time to put Honey Singh on the defensive, especially about songs derivative of misogynistic American hip hop culture.
The attempt is visibly feeble, aimed at placating viewers who have surely already tired of flattering documentaries about celebrities. Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous distinguishes itself from recent panegyrics by taking some effort to be curious, if not outright sceptical.
Honey Singh’s hard-won victory parade includes telling moments, such as when he tears up about not being able to provide for his family as he would like to. Other moments revolving around Louis Vuitton bags, Versace underwear and a palatial home in Noida make for a different picture.
The singer’s musicality itself is left untouched. The uninitiated viewer will be in the dark about why Honey Singh is so famous, and why his prolonged disappearance from the music scene created so much interest.
For the initiated, the documentary provides displays of vulnerability from a Bro Code-embracing star. Singh’s admissions about paranoia, an anecdote about being triggered by a visit to a city where he suffered his first major breakdown, his realisation that he needs to update his catalogue – these make the documentary worthwhile.
