Charisma, mesmerism, hypnotism: these are words that come from more innocent times. They bring up visions of séances and turbaned clairvoyants, of mad doctors and fanatic godmen; of a time when people believed that if real science could not explain paranormal phenomena, then they could very well invent theories of their own to understand the unseen world. Of course, we still live in those times, but the tarnish of superstition has stuck fast to many of these notions now. What we experience in moments of worship cannot be dissected and replicated in logical terms. The only truly secular place where the trance is now encouraged, and even cherished, is the cinema hall.

Perhaps that’s why we like to use the word ‘deity’ or ‘goddess’ for the truly beloved among our superstars: not necessarily those whose looks can kill, or whose talent elevates their roles in film after film, but those who, when they are on screen, can make us forget about objective standards of looks or talent. It is what stands out about Grace Kelly or Madhubala long after their style of acting and individual performances have grown somewhat old-fashioned. It is what keeps us glued breathlessly to screen when Irene Papas, with her thunderous brows, makes us believe no one but she could be Helen of Troy, and how Sridevi’s exquisite talent for the ridiculous only adds to her aura of desirability.

Auras may seem to be in short supply in an information-overloaded world. But no one would argue that the movies or their stars have become any less enthralling. It’s just that the art that keeps us enthralled today will become an artefact tomorrow, and will survive in quite a different form: as a monument, remembered and defended through the years, as the aura of a body of work and a full biography. Today, we may know a Kareena Kapoor role by her character’s name, but to tomorrow’s lovers of vintage cinema, the Geets and Poojas and Pias will only ever be Kareena Kapoor roles. That too is charisma (no sisterly pun intended); that is the effect of history.

‘I love anything that flickers,’ said Angela Carter of her love for the movies, and how astute she was. The effect of those frames winking past our eyes in a darkened movie theatre is all the more real for its being ephemeral and romantic. The power of movies is the power of forgetting, in an ironic way: of substituting, for those three hours and perhaps long after, the experience of a narrative on screen for the narrative of our lives in meatspace. The sound and image of a film can belong, in one sense, to everyone who experiences it. Of movie stars, on the other hand, the same cannot be said. Their power is that of memory, not forgetting. It is not a light that flickers: it glows.

DISSECTING THE AURA

Did you know Lady Gaga’s aura is red, and that her ex-boyfriend’s is ‘almost definitely lime green or yellow,’ denoting jealousy? In the realm of alternative healing, people’s auras endure as subjects for study and even for treatment: in Reiki, pranic medical practices and psychic healing (manifestly fake science to the dour rationalist in you, maybe), aura scanning and chakra balancing have long been considered cornerstones of prognosis. This usually entails contact between patient and practitioner – but when has that ever stopped anyone on the Internet? Blogging psychics today can sell tidy amounts of digital advertising by writing tracts on the inner turmoil and mental well-being of celebrities, by focusing on their onscreen appearances. If journalism is the first draft of history, then this, surely, is the first draft of a web-comic.

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