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 Even in his prime Dev Anand had something of a creepy dirty old man about him, and his films tend toward the preachy side. But somehow I like them... | Even in his prime Dev Anand had something of a creepy dirty old man about him, and his films tend toward the preachy side. But somehow I like them anyway. They are well-crafted and interesting, and always feature delectable heroines and terrific song and dance. *Jewel Thief* in particular is a delicious confection from beginning to end; *Hare rama hare krishna*, while more serious and less perfectly wrought, also has its strengths. *Guide* is still weightier fare, but it delivers its heavy-handed spiritual message with a beautiful sense of style.
Raja (Dev Anand), freshly released from prison, decides to get a fresh start in a distant city. On the way, he takes a nap in a temple; the villagers mistake him for a wandering holy man, and he goes along with the error, enjoying the free food and free shelter. A flashback that lasts most of the film's length provides Raja's backstory. He started out as a tour guide in a small town. A visiting archaeologist and his wife Rosie (Waheeda Rehman) engage his services, and as he gets to know them he learns that their marriage is troubled. Rosie only wants to dance, an activity that her husband forbids. When the marriage finally implodes, Raja helps Rosie pursue her dream - falling in love with her in the process - and before long she is a world famous dancer. Eventually things turn sour for Raja and Rosie as well, and a distance grows between them; a series of poor choices by both of them leads to their separation and Raja's incarceration. Back in the story's present, Raja is drawn deeper into the spiritual needs of the villagers who have anointed him their swami. Ultimately, Raja must make a decision: withdraw from the con-game that made him the villager's spiritual leader, or face his own spiritual journey head-on.
Raja's spiritual journey is moving, but it is also a peculiar bookend to the meat of the story: his relationship with Rosie, and Rosie's confusion about what she wants from her life. There were no delicate parallels to be found between Rosie's arc and Raja's; the two stories are connected because Raja is involved in both of them, but it seems that Raja could have had any number of troubled relationships and still ended up in the same place.
Still, while it isn't the most cohesive film ever, *Guide* is gripping, not least because of the dramatic, alluring intensity of Waheeda Rehman. She is stunningly beautiful, and she offers a performance of tightly wound, dark intensity punctuated by eye-popping, brilliant dance. In her first number of the film, the famous "snake dance," she cuts loose with an intensity that palpably conveys the passion that Rosie's disapproving husband has forced her to suppress. And the profound, emotional S.D. Burman soundtrack gives her many more moments to shine: "Piya tose" tracks Rosie's meteoric rise from village entertainer to international superstar; within the course of the song she dances in ever larger production numbers on ever larger stages. And in "Mose chal," Rosie dances out her anger at Raja when she thinks he has cheated and betrayed her.
All in all, *Guide* is an effective film, quite different from the stereotypical filmi love story, and quite sensitive, if somewhat preachy, in both its portrayal of the earthly concerns of a sad divorced woman and its ultimate discourse in Vedic philosophy and spirituality.
(For many more reviews of Hindi films, please visit Filmi Geek at http://filmigeek.net) |
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2 years ago
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19 like this review  People's favorite
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 *Jewel Thief* is a wonderful classic film that I can’t get enough of. This stylish 1967 suspense film is thoroughly mod – from set design to costumes,... | *Jewel Thief* is a wonderful classic film that I can’t get enough of. This stylish 1967 suspense film is thoroughly mod – from set design to costumes, from the brilliant soundtrack to its bold, sexually forward women.
Above all else, *Jewel Thief* is a whole lot of fun. It is chock full of explicit homages to early James Bond films, from the far flung exotic locales to the Jewel Thief's extravagant, high-tech lair to his slinky, sexy women. Dev Anand saunters through his adventure with a perpetual wink, and there's not a moment in which the screen isn't washed in lively color and fantastic style, complemented perfectly by the crisp, sparkling S.D. Burman score. One of Amar's women, Helen (played by Helen, of course) wears elbow-length gloves with a pearl bracelet - the look is a direct reference to *Breakfast at Tiffany's*, another feast of mod style. The universe of *Jewel Thief* is one in which dancers in jewel-encrusted bodysuits shake their moneymakers in nightclubs festooned with colorful flashing lights. It's one in which homes are decorated with amber and purple mood lighting and shelves in the shape of martini glasses, and women wear saris studded with tufts of rabbit fur. And it's a universe in which beautiful women, extravagant parties, and vast adventures await around every corner. It's 200 minutes of stylish, escapist bliss.
But there's more to *Jewel Thief* than its superficial fun - there are a number of interesting aspects that set it apart among Hindi films. It has been noted elsewhere that *Jewel Thief* exemplifies an Indian strain of fetishization of the exotic West, a contemporaneous and mirror-image view of Hollywood's fascination with elements from the exotic east. The super-modern style of the characters and the interiors, the James Bond-esque aspects of the Jewel Thief's life and lair, the sexual emancipation of many of the film's female characters are all aspects of this. In the thoroughly delightful “Raat akeli hai,” Tanuja's sexy-yet-innocent attempt at seducing Dev Anand's character, the symbols of the west are double-loaded; Tanuja interrupts her song to pour drinks for herself and Vijay and the drink she serves is Coca-Cola. What more powerful symbol of the West could there be? But the Cokes also serve to highlight the character's extreme youth. It's one of many subtle touches in a film that, superficially, seems to have nothing subtle about it.
I can’t say enough good things about this delightful film, a favorite even among my favorite films, Hindi or otherwise. The stylish mod designs can’t be more over-the-top and the songs can't be more fun. In addition to Tanuja's turn in "Raat akeli hai," the soundtrack also includes Vyjayantimala’s extravagant classical performance in “Honton mein aisi baat,” and “Baithe hain kya,” a wild bar-top dance number by Helen; Bollywood's queen of over-the-top item numbers does not disappoint here, clad in sequins and ostrich feathers.
(For many more reviews of Hindi films, please visit Filmi Geek at http://filmigeek.net) |
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2 years ago
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11 like this review People's favorite
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One of the first Hindi film songs I ever heard, a song that was instrumental in driving my early interest in filmi music, was "Dum maro dum," penned... | One of the first Hindi film songs I ever heard, a song that was instrumental in driving my early interest in filmi music, was "Dum maro dum," penned by R.D. Burman and sung by his wife Asha Bhosle. I was stunned the first time I heard it - it was like nothing I'd ever heard; gorgeous, trippy, emotive, funky, alive, and still a most delicate blend of east and west. It was only a little over two minutes long and I think I must have backed it up three times before I could bring myself to move on to another song. Still, it was a long time before I finally saw the movie it came from, *Hare rama hare krishna*.
At its best, *Hare rama hare krishna* is a very touching story about brotherly love, portraying the damaged free spirit Janice (Zeenat Aman) with a sensitive and poignant touch. It suffers, though, from several weaknesses. Janice's struggle with her past is interesting, but the film takes far too long to get there - her brother Prasant (Dev Anand) stalks her creepily for the first two thirds of the film without telling her who he is; she assumes his intentions are amorous. Dev Anand's persistent preaching against the drug-addled hippie lifestyle tends toward the wearisome, as does a confusing and irrelevant subplot about an exporter named Drona who tries to frame Prasant for theft after Prasant wins the heart of Shanti (Mumtaz), a girl Drona had his eye on.
Despite its weaknesses, though, there is plenty of treasure buried in *Hare rama hare krishna* that is well worth digging for. Among the best aspects of the film were its two women, the heroine and the anti-heroine, Mumtaz and Zeenat. Both women are very beautiful and appealing, each with her distinct style, character, and presentation, but Zeenat - here in her very first movie - completely steals the show as the stoned, tragic Janice.
*Hare rama hare krishna* is also interesting as a sociological study, presenting hippie counterculture from an Indian perspective. The film offers an Indian take on the phenomenon of westerners flocking to the subcontinent and appropriating its religion and philosophy, which was mystifying to many Indians. Dev Anand's view of it comes across loud and clear in his musical answer to the toke-up anthem "Dum maro dum" - his "Ram ka nam badnam na karo" ("Do not desecrate the name of Ram") is a plaintive call to lost youth, urging the stoners to find their way back to the ideals of upright Indian society. Perhaps it is telling, though, that "Dum maro dum" - not "Ram ka nam" - is the film's evergreen hit.
The film's music alone - enhanced by with the vibrant authenticity of the Kathmandu locations where it was shot - is well worth the price of the rental. Along with the iconic "Dum maro dum," there are several other memorable songs, notably Prasant's sweet and lovely tribute to his sister, "Phoolon ka taaron ka," and Mumtaz's spunky street performance in "Ghungroo kya bole."
(Read many more reviews of Hindi films at Filmi Geek, http://filmigeek.net) |
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2 years ago
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3 like this review
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The noble courtesan is a very common incarnation of downtrodden yet elevated womanhood in Indian films. Rekha's *Umrao Jaan* is a canonical example... | The noble courtesan is a very common incarnation of downtrodden yet elevated womanhood in Indian films. Rekha's *Umrao Jaan* is a canonical example of this kind of character, but a decade earlier there was *Pakeezah*. "Pakeezah" means "pure" or "chaste," and thus the film's very title evokes the concept of unsullied womanhood despite the most debasing circumstances.
Some things about Pakeezah are very, very beautiful. Some of the shots are just lovely - a sky full of spectacular color, a sweeping landscape, Meena Kumari languishing with her hair floating in a fountain. And its soundtrack sparkles, both the beautiful songs and Meena's sensuous mujras. (I never tire of well-done courtesan songs.) The film is excessively romantic, but this does not detract; rather, it contributes to a sense of otherworldliness that the colorful sets and languid, dreamy tone that the film creates.
All of the positives notwithstanding, the story is a little bit frustrating. Meena Kumari's Saheb Jaan is in some ways the anti-Umrao Jaan; as much as Umrao was determined to get out of the tawaif's life, Saheb never really believes herself worthy of anything else. The result is that overarching tone of the film is depressing and hopeless. Saheb never does anything to help herself, and she never develops any inner strength - she isn't saved except when men save her. She has a famous dance on glass, but even this seems like self-flagellation and punishment, not a display of strength and resolve (as was Hema Malini's dance on glass in *Sholay*). Saheb Jaan is a character made up of sadness and poor self-esteem, and there is just no arc away from that depressing place.
(Read many more reviews of Hindi films at Filmi Geek - http://filmigeek.net) |
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2 years ago
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23 like this review People's favorite
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 This adaptation of a Rajasthani folk tale is sparkling, lush, and thoroughly engaging. Its resolution may not be palatable to all - but Amol Palekar'... | This adaptation of a Rajasthani folk tale is sparkling, lush, and thoroughly engaging. Its resolution may not be palatable to all - but Amol Palekar's *Paheli* ("riddle") is a folk tale, not a morality tale.
The story has an edge, and perhaps uncomfortable implications. It is very appealing that Lachchi (Rani Mukherjee) gets a choice in her relationship with the ghost (Shah Rukh Khan) - this kind of empowerment of women, in particular when it comes to sexual autonomy, is still rare in the movies (and not just Hindi movies), and I have to suppress an impulse to cheer when a woman in a film makes a bold decision that, for once, isn't self-sacrifice and martyrdom. And it's especially satisfying to see a movie in which a woman can make such a choice and not pay for it, literally or figuratively, with her life.
Still, *Paheli* does make someone pay for Lachchi's extended frolic with the bhoot - her innocent husband, whose only crime is being somewhat haplessly under the thumb of his domineering father. Lachchi and the bhoot's love is steamy, romantic, and appealing, but it's far from a victimless crime. As I said, *Paheli* is not a morality tale; it's a spook story, dressed in beautiful clothes.
Implications aside, *Paheli* is a wonderful movie to watch. For one thing, it is an absolutely gorgeous visual feast. The rich colors of the Rajasthani desert shimmer and dance in the desert backdrop, the luxurious interior scenes, and the silken costumes. It is lushness done right; the sumptuousness enhanced the fairy-tale feel, transporting the story to an unspecified time and place. The saturated colors and rich sparkle perfectly suited the magical elements of the story.
*Paheli* is also a showcase for one - two, actually - of Shah Rukh Khan's best performances. I am no great fan of his, and it was a nice treat here to enjoy a film because of, rather than despite, his work in it. He distinguishes Kishen from the bhoot with a real physicality, making each character appealing in his own way (neither one is the arrogant hero character with which he made himself a superstar), yet still keeping within the broad style of the film. Rani Mukherjee's performance is unremarkable but more than adequate to the task; I like her, so I enjoyed it completely, especially in the film's beautiful, folk-tinged songs. Anupam Kher is very funny as always as Kishen's miserly father, in the kind of comic role he can do in his sleep. A hysterical cameo by Amitabh Bachchan (and an unusual one by Naseeruddin Shah) add to the film's grandness. The sum is a film that I just loved, much to my surprise, and expect to watch again and again.
(Read many more reviews of Hindi films at Filmi Geek, http://filmigeek.net ) |
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2 years ago
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5 like this review People's favorite
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 The summary of *Ek doctor ki maut* sounds like a pretty good story, and so I struggle a bit to understand why the film in execution is at times... | The summary of *Ek doctor ki maut* sounds like a pretty good story, and so I struggle a bit to understand why the film in execution is at times gratingly dull. Part of the problem lies in script and direction. The film is shot in a hyper-realistic, hyper-literal style; there is no artistic camera work, no symbolism, nothing to layer the dialogue or add depth or allegory to the events unfolding on the screen. It is more like reading a newspaper article than watching a piece of cinematic art. And, like a newspaper article, *Ek doctor ki maut* presents its events in words - maverick scientist Dipankar Roy (Pankaj Kapur) explains his results to his friends; his wife Seema (Shabana Azmi) orates her frustrations with her marriage, puts her threat to leave Roy in a letter, and then expounds, in words, on why she decides to stay. All the verbiage smothers the lovely, subtle performances of both Pankaj Kapur and Shabana Azmi, the latter especially; she seems to want to show Seema's conflict in body language in the kind of performance that she can give better than anyone, but the script won't let her stop talking long enough to do it.
Stylistic matters aside, as a former scientist, I was nonplussed by the film's treatment of the process of scientific discovery and review. In the U.S., when scientists choose to present their work via the press rather than in a peer-reviewed publication, they frequently met with a skeptical response - not without reason, as illustrated by Fleischmann and Pons's now infamous announcement of cold fusion. So I don't perceive any great injustice in the response in the medical community's circumspect reaction to Roy's self-published results. This leaves me somewhat at a loss to interpret the message of *Ek doctor ki maut*. Perhaps the practice of scientific research is different in India from my own experience, so that in the film's context it's clearer just what is being criticized. To my eye, though, other researchers are justified in viewing Roy with some suspicion; he appears to be more eccentric than not, puttering in a makeshift homemade laboratory, forgoing peer review, and lashing out in anger at any who dare challenge him.
*Ek doctor ki maut* is not all bad; I've mentioned the delicacy of the actors' performances, and there were a few excellent moments shining in the film's bland substrate. In one excellent sequence, Roy steals Seema's sterno cooker out from under her when he runs out of propane for his Bunsen burner; later, he predictably scolds her for failing to cook his dinner, and the skirmish is a poignant microcosm of their entire relationship. And in the closest thing to a character arc there is in the film, Roy later demonstrates a growing awareness of his reliance on Seema and her need for some reciprocation. This is best shown in several tender interactions between them, one during her visit after his exile to village practice, and another in the film's final scene. If the rest of the film had been handled as delicately, *Ek doctor ki maut* might have felt less like two hours of squandered potential.
(Please see Filmi Geek at http://filmigeek.net for more reviews of Hindi films) |
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2 years ago
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5 like this review People's favorite
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Some movies, I find, do not translate very well. *Gunga Jumna* was a massive hit in India - but it left me somewhat cold.... | Some movies, I find, do not translate very well. *Gunga Jumna* was a massive hit in India - but it left me somewhat cold.
With its tale of brothers on opposite sides of the law, *Gunga Jumna* perhaps resonated with the house divided that was India in the years following independence and partition. There's an allegory in the divergent personalities and approaches to life of the two brothers. The social message is hinted by the brothers' names - they are named for the Ganges and Jamuna rivers, the mythological and geographical axes of India, the junction of which has a rich symbolism in Indian tradition and culture. The suggestion may be that the nation's vitality springs from the juncture of the fiery passion of Ganga (Dilip Kumar) and the steady, duty-bound earnestness of Jumna (Nasir Khan).
For me, though, the film's symbolic content was obscured by the fact that it was just a chore to watch. There were times when I was tempted to fast-forward through some excruciatingly slow, yet utterly predictable, sequences. And the characterizations were too indelicate; Ganga is an unthinking idiot - he reacts to offense like a three-year-old, except that he's violent and anti-social - and Jumna is a feelingless android. The result was that I didn't terribly care what happened to either of them, and couldn't get caught up in the allegory either.
*Gunga Jumna* does have its qualities. There is enough substance to the story to make it compelling at times. Dilip Kumar's performance is quite good, despite a lot of shouting - it is not his fault that his character is obnoxious. Vyjayantimala's performance is outstanding - only during her emotional scenes did I feel any stirring within myself. And the music is stellar. A highlight in that department is a mujra by Helen - I've only ever seen her perform this kind of dance once before (in *Chalti ka naam gaadi*), and she's great at it. |
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2 years ago
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This gritty film by Sudhir Mishra offers a window into life in the titular Bombay slum. It's harrowing yet compelling, and though its focus is a... | This gritty film by Sudhir Mishra offers a window into life in the titular Bombay slum. It's harrowing yet compelling, and though its focus is a depressing tale of defeat and loss, it somehow achieves a hopeful tone at its conclusion.
What is most fascinating about *Dharavi* is its slice-of-life look at Bombay's slums. In small but vivid details as well as in big-picture themes the film illuminates this world that is so different from my own. The slum neighborhood itself is like a village, where everyone is all up in everyone else's business - you cannot keep secrets, and you can't cross the thugs and heavies who rule over the place; there is violence almost daily. Rajkaran (Om Puri) gets pulled into Dharavi's dangerous underworld when he is compelled to borrow money from Dharavi's fiercest crime boss in order to buy a factory and start a business. Rajkaran's wife Kumud (Shabana Azmi) engages in a daily struggle with the local corrupt water-mongers; they illegally tap the municipal water supply - there are no official municipal services in Dharavi - but they won't let Kumud take more than one bucketful without a fight. But there's also a strong sense of community; women gather in the streets to make pappadums and gossip, and in the evenings, everyone gathers in a little alley movie theater to watch escapist movies starring the likes of Anil Kapoor and Madhuri Dixit. Rajkaran has romantic dreams in which he and Madhuri (who plays herself) roll around in mustard fields, he confiding his troubles to her, she confessing her love for him.
Rajkaran and Kumud live with their son and Rajkaran's mother in a tiny one-room corrugated shack, reminiscent of the shantytown dwellings I saw in the South African film *Tsotsi*. But Kumud keeps it tidy and neat; there is a pretty little rug on the floor and potted plants on the sill, and other small comforts that can help preserve one's sanity and dignity when living in squalor. Kumud works in a small oppressive tailor shop, like the old sweatshops of the lower east side tenements in New York, working a sewing machine while sweat beads on her forehead. As hard as their life is, though, Kumud seems to manage it - early on, she questions why Rajkaran isn't satisfied, why he has to try to push for more - she doesn't seem, at least at this point in the movie, to share her husband's eagerness to get out of Dharavi. But while his ambition might be inspiring, it enrages him when his industrial dreams begin to crumble, and his rage drives away everyone around him. The message of the film is therefore a little ambiguous - should one just accept one's lot and leave well enough alone, or should one try to make something better for one's self and family? The film resolves this ambiguity for the best by allowing Rajkaran to emerge from his trials bruised and set back, but not defeated.
(please visit Filmi Geek at http://filmigeek.net for more reviews of Hindi films) |
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2 years ago
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1 like this review
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*Antareen* ("confined"), a quiet and literary Bengali film by Mrinal Sen, examines a peculiar relationship that arises between two strangers,... | *Antareen* ("confined"), a quiet and literary Bengali film by Mrinal Sen, examines a peculiar relationship that arises between two strangers, profoundly isolated individuals who connect only when the woman (Dimple Kapadia) randomly phones the man (Anjan Dutt), a writer staying at a friend's gracious home. The caller and the writer connect and affect one another, in a demonstration that the effects of human contact can traverse both distance and anonymity.
Though the film's pace is deliberate at best, it is intriguing enough as it unfolds, especially as the details of the mysterious woman caller's life come gradually into focus. Through her conversations with the writer, she slowly overcomes her inertia and begins to pull the pieces of her life together. For the writer's part, in the beginning, his interest in her appears somewhat mercenary, seeing her only as grist for his writing, but he comes to truly care for her, as we are shown, for example, by his distress when she fails to call for several days. The dynamics of their relationship are constantly shifting. He has the power to reach her emotionally, offering observations that strike close to home. But for most of the film she holds the ultimate control over their interactions - she has his telephone number, while he does not have hers. The moment when she relinquishes that control marks a clear turning point in their interaction.
What is less clear is the statement that Mrinal Sen intends to make with the film. It may be a statement about the randomness of human relationships, how we can be touched by input from completely unexpected and even virtually unknown sources. I can't help but feel that if I were acquainted with Bengali literature I would have a better sense of the film's message, as it contains numerous explicit references - and probably even more implicit ones - to the short stories of Rabindranath Tagore, among others. Without that background, Antareen is more of a mildly interesting curiosity than a truly compelling film.
(Please visit Filmi Geek at http://filmigeek.net for more reviews of Indian films) |
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2 years ago
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2 like this review
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This black comedy pits a pair of hapless knuckleheads against the vast and wealthy machinery of official corruption. It's not exactly a fair fight,... | This black comedy pits a pair of hapless knuckleheads against the vast and wealthy machinery of official corruption. It's not exactly a fair fight, but it makes for a movie that is funny, textured, and rich with symbolism.
Photographers Vinod (Naseeruddin Shah) and Sudhir (Ravi Baswani) are struggling to get customers into their portrait shop when opportunity knocks - a tabloid editor Shobha (Bhakti Barve) hires them to snap stealthy shots of the surreptitious meetings between the corrupt Municipal Commissioner D'Mello (Satish Shah) and the real estate developers who bribe him for construction permits. First the photographers discover a bidding war between rival developers, the slick Tarneja (Pankaj Kapur) and drunken Ahuja (Om Puri). When the competition escalates to murder, Vinod and Sudhir are determined to fight the good fight and expose the crimes and corruption they have discovered. But they find themselves in a perilous tangle of deals and double-crosses, where everyone is on the take.
From the outset *Jaane bhi do yaaro* ("Let it go, friends") has the tone of a zany caper. Its guileless heroes zigzag their way from bluffing into D'Mello's home to photograph secret documents, to chasing a wayward corpse, to staging an impromptu takeover of a theatrical production of the Mahabharata, and each stop on the journey is more hysterical than the one before. But the prevailing mood of the film, and presumably of its audience as well, is that the bumbling efforts of feckless interlopers, no matter how well-meaning, is not enough to jam the well-oiled gears of official corruption.
The film strikes a nice balance with a madcap approach to a weighty subject; Vinod and Sudhir's naive earnestness is funny and charming. And it's not just farce and slapstick; there are layers of meaning even in the silliest scenarios. My friend Amit pointed out the clever complexity of the Mahabharata scene, for example, in which the film's characters usurp the stage performance of a familiar myth. Amit notes that this is a metaphor for the people of India who sit and watch passively as the spectacle of corruption is carried out before them.
While the characters are engaging and the antics side-splitting, *Jaane bhi do yaaro*'s message is ultimately very bleak, with a flavor of no good deed going unpunished. It is an excellent, entertaining, and provocative film, but be prepared for a sucker punch or two amidst all the mirth.
(Review originally posted at Filmi Geek http://filmigeek.net) |
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2 years ago
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