A bit of self-reflection & Satyajit Ray's Devi.

Previously, when I have written about my ambivalence towards art house or parallel films in India (and elsewhere), I may have come down too hard on both myself as a viewer, who gets too easily bored and the stereotypical concept of these types of films as boring and incomprehensible. I think this kind of narrative is so tired and rather poisonous, and I'm kicking myself for ever furthering it on this blog. The fact is, most of my reactions to movies, such as Satyajit Ray's filmography, come down to two factors: my own bias against watching 'classics' just because they are considered by some as classics, and my lack of orientation towards watching these sorts of films. (And yes, this will be one of those slightly tiresome blog posts where I ponder why I react to things the way I do, as opposed to just telling you about my reactions. Apologies all around.)

I've always had this perhaps slightly ludicrous aversion to watching or reading anything that is a classic simply because it's received such a label. I don't believe in entertainment as education, unless there is a legitimate educational purpose to consuming a piece of entertainment (like the fact you're researching something, or a legitimate student of something, such as literature or art or film). I'll watch films considered classic, if and when I want to watch them - when I'm motivated to see what they're about, as opposed to composing a body of works as educational homework for myself. Some will tell you that you absolutely need to see certain films in order to discuss films at all, but I'm not really one of those people. I'll encourage curiosity in others, and in myself, because curiosity towards new things can only lead to great new discoveries and fun.

Some people obviously have a different take on this, and would probably argue that classics are considered classics because they are generally good and important works of art. I'm not denying any of this, as most of my favourite films could easily be considered classics in some form or another. It's just that this is my philosophy when it comes to art, and canonized art. We should recommend things to people because they might enjoy them, not because some sort of consensus has formed that something is important.

As far as my lack of orientation is concerned, that's where Devi and the previous Ray film I watched, Charulata, come in. They both seem to work in a format where themes and ideas slowly build up over the movie, only to reach a spectacular height of dramatic tension in the last ten or fifteen minutes of the film. This sort of cadence is not necessarily unique, but it differs from the films I typically watch. It's not that I don't enjoy it - it's just I'm not used to seeing it.

When I woke up on a Sunday morning and had this sudden idea of watching Devi alongside my many morning cups of coffee, I knew this was precisely why I had this philosophy about classics and art. As the mood struck me, the setting for the film was perfection - and the clear-headed, caffeinated emotional devastation that I felt at the end of the movie, was perfect, too. I watched the characters live in their world, commit their honest mistakes and become trapped in the societal conventions they couldn't struggle out of, because sometimes that is simply how things work.

Devi is, of course, a tale of a Bengali household where the father-in-law (Chhabi Biswas) of Dayamoyee (Sharmila Tagore) sees a premonition in a dream that Dayamoyee is a reincarnation of the goddess Kali. Umaprasad (Soumitra Chatterjee), her husband, is away completing his studies, and he returns to find his wife, living at the temple, worshipped as a goddess.

It's a concise film with excellent mood, tremendously interesting performances - particularly Sharmila - and beautiful cinematography, but I'm still far too focused on the ending, which is a complete punch to the gut, in a good way. It's satisfying in its tragedy, but if I'm completely honest with myself, the journey towards that ending was not as gripping as I might've hoped. What do I do with a film that I only really enjoyed during the last ten minutes? Rewatch it, I suppose, to take in all of those hints of what was coming, before I knew where it was all headed. Much as I did with Charulata, I certainly liked this film, but it didn't work its way into my heart as a favourite. And much as with Charulata, the review of the film turned out to be rather navel-gazing. Further apologies?

Charulata: the quiet craft.

The most stubborn person I know once told me I was the most stubborn person she knew. I'll admit to it - I am incredibly stubborn, particularly when it comes to the media I consume. I refuse to believe in the concept of classics being films you absolutely must watch, this idea that if you don't plough through them, you're uneducated as a viewer. I think classics are influential films, but that doesn't mean one has to sit through them just because they are classics - rather, I adamantly only watch films when I'm interested in them, regardless of their status or influence on later films. 

It was because of this stubborn attitude that I didn't watch a single Satyajit Ray film until I wanted to. At heart, I am a populist - I will watch something loud and outrageous before I'll watch anything quiet and contemplative, even though I respect the latter style of film-making enormously. But luckily things took a turn when Beth began obsessing over old Bengali films. I got curious, and from that curiosity an honest interest was born.

So I watched Charulata, the 1964 Satyajit Ray film based on a novel of another Bengali cultural giant, Rabindra Tagore.  

The film's international title, "The Lonely Wife" pretty much captures the plot. Charu (Madhabi Mukherjee) is the wife of busy newspaper man Bhupati (Shaileen Mukherjee) who submerges herself in the world of Bengali novels. Bhupati arranges his cousin Amal (Soumitra Chatterjee) to live with them and keep Charu company, and get her to foster her talents in writing. 

Amal and Charu's relationship develops in a very subtle manner, and Ray's style gives a lot of potent, metaphorical visual themes, like the cage-like bars on the windows. As a very irregular viewer of this type of cinema, I appreciated the fact the film felt very accessible - I did not need to read three brick-heavy books on Bengal society, history or gender relations to catch what was happening on the screen. It was all clearly there for me to view and interpret. 

The performances were all-around solid. Madhabi Mukherjee carries the film with ease - we watch Charu figure herself out and understand her own emotions just in time to realise there isn't a way to go back. Soumitra Chatterjee was good as well, but there is slightly less to say about his character, really. Amal arrives practically bouncing with infectious energy, but leaves almost on a mysterious note - I wondered whether I actually knew the character, or his inner workings at all. 

I could draw a parallel between my own stubborn nature and that of Charu - she too seems to do what she wants precisely how and when she wants to - but that might be a little too forced. The film didn't make my favourites, but it made sure I'll be checking out more of Ray and more old Bengali cinema.

Regardless, if you're like me and looking for a film to begin your journey into Ray's filmography or the Bengali cinema in general, this is a good place to start. It's gorgeous to watch as it is a thoughtfully crafted piece of cinema. 

East Coast break.

Hiya blog, what's kicking? Not much for me, just had a brilliant two-week long holiday in East Coast US, mostly trapped in Brooklyn with my (non-filmi) friend thanks to Frankenstorm Sandy. But a little hurricane can't keep a good girl down, and I had an absolute blast even though there was rain and storm!

Sadly this did mean that going the cinema was just not an option, so I didn't get to do my usual "going to see a Bollywood film in a foreign country" routine, nor did I get to meet up with some blogger friends I would've loved to meet up with (FG, next time!). But I did manage to get up to Boston to stay with Filmi Geek aka Carla, and over at her place, I got to watch some delightful Hindi oldies.

Chor Sipahee (1979)

This fast-paced masala romp we watched in the confines of Memsaab's filmi lair, and the plot is precisely what it says on the box. Shashi Kapoor is our sipahee, a badass cop who wears leather jackets well and goes to jail and comes out even more badass. Vinod Khanna plays the chor, a rogue who's bad because that's what poor people do when they can't earn enough, or something. It's really too bad he's just not the best thief, outwitted by pretty much everybody (but mostly Shabana Azmi's character) and then some, and disowned by his sister (Parveen Babi, who wears amazing things so she is destined to be with Shashi in this film). 

But it's fine that Vinod sucks as a bad guy, because Shashi is here to fix him with the power of buddypyaari (seriously, these frenemies just have it going on). And Shashi will go to jail for him! And grow a jail beard! And then wear women's sunglasses, because that's what villains do, dammit. Wait, you're not following this? Doesn't it all seem really logical?

What a film. I will certainly need to purchase it, and rewatch it, and rewatch it, and then build a shrine to encase it in.

Half-Ticket (1962)

While at Carla's, I felt like it behooved me to watch one of her favourites, especially as the film seemed so close to a mutual favourite of ours, Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi. Plot-wise, I feel like Chalti is a bit tighter than Half-Ticket, but they are equally delightful and packed with amazing songs to boot. The film really is all Kishore all the time - he plays a layabout goof who escapes his father's plans to marry him off, and pretends to be a child to get a half-ticket on the train, where he meets both a crook (young Pran, always priceless) and a beauty (Madhubala). What follows is a series of goofy goofball scenes where Kishore gets to show his comic prowess and sing some incredible songs. His jodi with Madhubala is as cute as ever, and Pran's villain character also manages to tickle the chuckle bone.

The film does go off the rails every now and then, but it never ceases to entertain, so this is another future must-purchase for me. 

Muqaddar ka Sikander (1978)

A long over-due viewing of a classic! Amitabh Bachchan carries this highly melodramatic masala about an orphan boy named Sikander, whose love for his childhood friend Kamna (Rakhee) carries into adulthood, and makes him blind to the affection shown to him by Zohrabai (Rekha), a prostitute he visits to drink away his sorrows. Vinod Khanna plays the lawyer Vishal, who becomes an important friend to Sikander, one he's willing to sacrifice almost anything for..

Muqaddar ka Sikander plays a weird twist on its viewer, where the extreme melodrama seems so extreme it's a little chuckle-worthy, rather than believable at first. But slowly, you get sucked in, and by the end, it really tugs at your heartstrings. I'd attribute a fair amount of that to Amitabh's splendid performance - this is by far one of his best ones. It didn't quite make it among my favourites, mostly because I feel like I prefer my masala goofy so that it doesn't stomp on your already-heavy heart, but I could definitely tell why it was such a classic.

The soundtrack is also worth mentioning. There were a couple of tracks I already adored (Pyaar Zindagi Hai and the female version of O Saathi Re) and the rest were awesome as well.

Jewel Thief (1967)

Life got in the way of me finishing this film, but I began it and liked it, then was quite confused by the plot, and eventually had to stop it about 50 minutes before the end due to lack of time. I did enjoy it, but I definitely need a rewatch from the beginning, at a time when I can focus all my attention on it.

I'm merely mentioning it here so I remember to seek it out and finish watching..

Mini-reviews, part char.

For new readers, this is basically a very convinient way for me to cover a big bunch of movies on this blog that I've seen but don't necessarily feel like like talking about at length. The list was randomized by an online randomizer, these are entries 31-40.

31. Chukkallo Chandrudu (2006) - One of Siddharth's short but quality list of youthful Telugu romcom's. He's written the story for this himself, romances three heroines while trying to pick who to go with, dances a bit in Germany, the usual. It's a fun movie but I tend to pick NVNV, Bommarillu or Aata over it. Still, the story is lovely and there's some awesome dancing - and guest appearances by Amitabh and Prabhu Deva!


32. Sharafat (1970) - Gorgeous Hema-Dharam jodi in one of their early films together, Hema plays a courtesan and has some awesome dance numbers. It's no mind-blowing stuff in terms of plot but for me, personally, it's memorable enough for the dancing. Discussed earlier here.

33. Thillana Mohanambal (1968) - Still the only Tamil oldie I've seen so far. Ironically, I really loved it and always wanted to see more but could never quite bring myself to just buy more Sivaji Ganesan films to sample some more oldie goodness. This one celebrates the art of Carnatic music and Bharatanatyam dancing, along with a love story and some awesome musical numbers.

34. Maa (1976) - Elephant elephant elephant. This is the Dharmendra movie with the elephant. And that's basically all you need to know, because the first half of the movie is painfully boring and dumb set up for some fairly fun elephant hijinks. Elephant!

35. Amar Akbar Anthony (1977) - The classic "three brothers separated and brought together" story by Manmohan Desai is, surprise to no one, one of my favourites. Not least of all because Anthony is a fantastic character, Neetu Singh and Rishi Kapoor are adorable together and Vinod Khanna is smokin'. Sigh. Earlier discussed here.

36. Imtihan (1974) - Fine, call me a cheater, I've still not finished this one yet. It started off okay but didn't go anywhere and showed no signs of promise so I turned it off. Anyway, Vinod Khanna plays an awesome professor who is seriously the best person ever on this planet. And he wears glasses.

37. Asoka (2001) - I feel all kinds of pretentious saying that my dislike for this film is largely due to the fact they didn't get to the good part of the historical Ashoka's life; Buddhism, spreading Buddhist beliefs etc. Why? Because the biggest expert on Indian history and Buddhism that I know lists this film as one of her favourites. Go figure. It's an okay movie, but I just find it a tad overhyped. Nice visuals, can't be denied.

38. Bommarillu (2006) - Oh, Siddharth. This initially disappointed me but later I grew a fondness for it, the originality of the storyline worked its magic and even the cheesy song picturizations won me over. Genelia may be Manic Pixie Girl - google it - but she works for me as the balancing factor for Siddharth's character's life, and how he comes to terms with the pressures by his father.

39. Na Tum Jaano Na Hum (2002) - The one, the only, epic Saif/Hrithik bromance movie. Served with a side order of cheese, and mostly just cheese, and sprinkled with Esha Deol's first-grade non-acting (her first role, bless her soul). This is one of those "so bad I kind of love it" films, but don't expect to find me rewatching it over and over again.

40. Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke (1993) - This film is simply too adorable! I love it so much. Aamir Khan plays an uncle to kids who is left to take care of them and Juhi Chawla plays a runaway girl who befriends the kids on a fair and ends up rooming with them without Aamir's character's knowledge. As you can imagine, comedy and romance ensue. I also like Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak but I like my happy endings more, so this one wins in my books. Earlier discussed here.

A dog named Remo; stories of rewatching.

I have these friends who, bless their hearts, are very easy to talk into watching Indian movies. Maybe it's that using my DVD collection is cheaper than going out to rent a movie (and might include arguments over which film to go for), maybe it's that watching something is better than watching nothing, or maybe, just maybe, the wonderous world of Indian films is little-by-little creeping into their hearts.

So I've made them sit through the likes of DDLJ, Sholay, Dil Chahta Hai, Hum Tum with varying results, but I guess it's a triumph in itself that they are always keen to see more. They still confuse actors with one another, and have a decidedly "Western" perspective on some things (getting hung up on continuity errors is not something a seasoned Hindi film fan does!), but at least they're willing to see more, and I'm more than willing to provide more.

In the past two weeks, we've watched three films together and all of them are well worth talking about.


First up it was Anniyan, which I intuitively selected to introduce the crazy world of Tamil mainstream films to my friends. And say what you say about the shortcomings of this epic masala film, directed by S. Shankar, it simply never fails to deliver and even though it is completely and utterly over-the-top in every way, the core story, the characters and especially Vikram's acting seemed to make this nutty movie approachable to even complete beginners. They were aww'ing at Ambi, the by-the-book lawyer, and his total failure to capture the heart of his beloved, Nandini.


I once called Anniyan the most entertaining movie ever, and I stand by that to this day. The action scenes, the comedy, the social message - even when it all becomes a rather illogical mess, it doesn't get boring. My friends did start to get a little bored as the end was approaching - when the song "Andakaka" arrived, they wondered out loud about Shankar's style of loud visuals. "Why?" was a question on one of my friends' lips. I shrugged. "Because it looks good." I suppose it's the sort of perspective they still haven't quite embraced.

The real winner of the evening, however, was Remo, one of the characters Vikram plays in the movie, a rocking super-model, so hip and modern and ultra-cool it hurts. I like to think of him as mocking the "Western" life-style worship, though at the same time a very loving parody. Whatever he is, he's absolutely hilarious and after the initial shock my friends couldn't help but love him. So over-the-top and ridiculous and yet somehow, absolutely amazing.

This picture says it all.

After the movie, my friends sent me a message that the next male pet they get, will be named Remo. Whether they ever keep this promise or not, I'm more than glad I introduced them to this film.

A bit later my friend saw the gorgeous Mughal-e-Azam poster in my room and since I wanted to rewatch the film, I suggested we watch it together. It's been a while since I saw this classic, even though the DVD is the first Hindi one I ever bought. I believe I'd actually only seen it once up until that point. I warned my friend it would be a lengthy historical love story (set in the Mughal era for those three of you who weren't aware), not quite as cheery as the films I usually show her, but we ended up watching it regardless.

Sometimes the flaws of DVD's can truly ruin a film experience. I never realized the subtitles on my DVD lag. Severely. And so as if it wasn't already difficult enough to keep up with the going-on's in a film largely centered around people arguing in hyper-poetic language, we had the lacking subtitles to deal with. It's probably because of this I never warmed up to the characters on this watch - I felt very distant from them as did my friend, and our concentration was slipping dangerously. The movie bore on, scene by scene (arguing in highly poetic Urdu), song by song (singing in highly poetic Urdu about how miserable everything is), I found myself asking my friend whether we should skip some scenes. She insisted we not fast-forward a single minute, and I relented, as boring and futile as the watching seemed like.

Don't get me wrong. I love the visuals of this film. I adore the songs. When we finally see the sets in colour, their glory takes my breath away. The battle scenes are good for their time. But it was simply hopeless to get into the story when you had to wait 20 seconds for the subtitles to appear. It got to the point where, if I understood a sentence or even a bit of a sentence, I would translate out loud for my friend as we waited for the correct subtitles to come on.

As it stands, we got to the end and I walked home, thinking about the MeA poster on my wall. I do like the film, still. Just wish I had a better copy of it so I could sit down with it and see if I'd get into it with subs that do not lag. The Mystery of Dilip Kumar for me personally is still unsolved; in other words, I've not yet understood why he is considered such an enormous acting talent of his age. But perhaps one day I shall find out..

Realizing I better keep the films masala from now on, I brought over my Amar Akbar Anthony DVD the next time I visited my friends. The story of three brothers separating and re-uniting in harmony of three faiths and three professions seemed like a nice way to reflect the friendship of the three of us, and even though the wonderous masala recipe from the 1970's didn't quite fully win over my friends (the variety of characters and plot twists left them a bit confused at times!), at the end of the film, they enjoyed it a lot!

This is Pran, or as we called him during our viewing, "Daddy'O".

Amitabh Bachchan as Anthony was another star of the evening. His signature song was both mind-boggling and amazing according to my friends and especially during the penultimate scenes, they found him a riot.

Thankfully my own favourite, Vinod Khanna as Amar, did not go unnoticed, however. My friend's verdict? "Cute."

Out of the three couples, my personal favourite is Rishi-Neetu, without a doubt, but as his storyline was the least featured in the movie, my friends might've not caught onto their cuteness that much.

I'm glad to say the fight scenes got the 'oooh's they deserved (70's masala action = insanely awesome fight moves!) and since we all began humming the last song as the movie wrapped up, I'd consider the evening a success. Masala might be a little tough on the beginners, but they handled it well.

Miscellanous thoughts on the history of Bollywood, Part 1.

I won't go into detail on what inspired this post; let's just say I've been learning about these things as of late.

• At times it really bugs me that the early history of Indian film is so hard to access - I think the earliest films available are from 1940's, maybe a few select earlier films available on DVD or as archived material (you can only access by going to India). Compare this to what you can get your hands on from the silent era of European film, or Hollywood, or Scandinavian film. It's a huge, rich context we're quite simply missing out on, and can only really read about in books and by seeing still photographs of movies.
• Addendum: why this bugs me especially is because of the difference of Hindi film's history compared to other cinemas. The influences are different. The style is different. The context is obviously unique. Regarding the influences, I've read and heard Parsi theater, other folk theater traditions and Sanskrit aesthetics (the entire 'rasa' theory) cited as heavy influence. In a way, not being able to discuss early cinema with the voice of experience (or rather, just having seen some of these damn movies!) feels like I'm missing a very vital link. You know, I don't know if I would be interested in watching 30+ Sulochana movies or a dozen mythological silent movies, but I'd at least like to have the opportunity to do so. Basically, to see the continuity clearer from past cinema to modern cinema, would be nice, even if just to justify some of the things that make Bollywood as it is: when somebody disgards the films as overly dramatic, I could simply say, "Look, this is the tradition over there. This is the preference of the audience, throughout the ages. Why do you assume they'd be making movies according to your tastes?"
• I feel awfully embarrassed because as much as I love Guru Dutt, I've seen such a rare few of his films. The big ones, sure, and I have Mr & Mrs 55 in the mail, arriving next week and will get to it eventually, but in comparison to my other favourites on the oldie front, it's just embarrassing. Then again, to be honest, I do find it easier to watch a nice 70's film than a 50's/60's masterpiece. There is something wrong with me like that. (By the way, if you recommend me Guru Dutt films - please do - I'd prefer ones with him as an actor, not the director.)
  
• Don't you love the romanticized tragic on-screen/off-screen jodi's of the 50's? I'm talking Raj Kapoor-Nargis, Madhubala-Dilip Kumar and of course, Guru Dutt-Waheeda Rehman. I think out of the three, only Madhubala-Dilip is confirmed - they did date, her family didn't approve, there was a court hassle over a movie, and then they broke up, and the romanticized version of the story goes, she never stopped loving him to the event of her untimely death. Raj Kapoor and Guru Dutt were married men, which makes the alleged romances with their most popular on-screen partners slightly less romantic but tragic all the same (especially Guru and Waheeda - I'm really surprised they weren't in speaking terms while filming Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam because that was my first film with the two and I adored their chemistry to pieces).
  
• Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi - a movie I ought to see more like, and a movie you ought to see, period.
  
  
• Does it ever bother anybody else that as a fan, you sometimes latch onto historically inconsequential (or maybe just-not-all-that-important) stars and films? I know I'll read and learn about 70's Hindi films, I probably won't hear a word about Vinod Khanna, and am probably lucky to hear about Dharmendra or Hema Malini unless the subject is Sholay (which the subject very well should be!). On the other hand, in the modern times, I feel like my favourites, especially in terms of movies, are the ones most people will remember in 10 years' time. It's odd.
  

More coming in part 2, whenever I get around to writing it up. :)