Filmi Geek

Pyar to hona hi tha (1998)

प्यार तो होना ही था

After some weighty discussions about feminism and Partition, it was definitely time to write about something with a bit more levity.  Fortunately Pyar to hona hi tha ("Love had to happen") was there to do the job.

Sanjana (Kajol), an orphaned Indian living in Paris, is engaged to her sweetheart Rahul (Bijay Anand).  Rahul's business takes him on a trip to India, where he is swept off his feet by a sexy modern vixen named Nisha (Kashmira Shah), and breaks his engagement to Sanjana.  Heartbroken, Sanjana heads to India to win him back.  On the way, she meets the roguish thief Shekhar (Ajay Devgan), on the run from his one-time friend, Police Inspector Khan (Om Puri).  Circumstances conspire to strand Shekhar and Sanjana in Shekhar's village, where she learns that inside scoundrel there beats a heart of pure gold.  Shekhar agrees to help her win back her lost love.  Sanjana and Shekhar pretend to be lovers to make Rahul jealous.  But as the film's title suggests, it's not long before the pretense becomes reality.

Pyar to hona hi tha is an innocuous and pleasant romance.  Like any romance, its charm depends upon the appeal of its principals, and they deliver well enough to make the movie engaging and sweet.  Kajol is talented at physical comedy, and that talent is put to good use in Sanjana's clumsy streak; her klutziness is cute and funny (though, unfortunately, it has no real bearing on the story).  And Ajay Devgan is better here than in some films where he broods and mopes incessantly; Shekhar is permitted moments of insecurity that show through his facade of cool.  The result is an endearing pairing that the viewer can really root for.  

I've been told that Pyar to hona hi tha is a remake of a Hollywood romance flick called French Kiss.  I've never seen the original, but most people seem to think the filmi touches are an improvement.  I guess that Bollywood really does have a way with romance.  Some of the better filmi elements in Pyar to hona hi tha are the songs, which are very cute; they are mostly innocuous pop, but surprisingly catchy.  There are entertaining picturizations too, especially the village engagement party and a trippy song that takes place on an airplane.  The latter includes segments having different musical styles, including a qawwali and a uniquely filmi adaptation of the Macarena.   The less felicitous additions from the filmi bag of tricks include a couple of lengthy car chases and a random, unnecessary shooting and hostage sequence in a shopping mall.  On balance, though, Pyar to hona hi tha offers a pleasant helping of everything one might require of a Hindi popcorn romance. 

Greta of Memsaab Story, with whom I watched Pyar to hona hi tha, considers the film a sentimental favorite; here's what she has to say about it. 

Hey Ram (2000)

हे राम

Kamal Haasan's daring, intense film Hey Ram draws heavily on the symbology of Hindu myths to tell its story about the spasms surrounding partition.  Even though much of that layered meaning is shamefully lost on me, the film's commentary on sectarian violence - an issue that always gets to me - is both compelling and moving.

Saket Ram (Kamal Haasan) is an archeologist, a scholar and an intellectual.  Though he is a Tamil Brahmin by birth, his own political beliefs are open, progressive, and secular.  Ram's ideology is shaken to the core, though, when, in rioting following the announcement of Partition, his beloved wife Apurna (Rani Mukherjee) is brutally raped and murdered by a Muslim gang.  Ram is distraught to the point of madness, and he wanders the streets of Calcutta in a daze.  He is recognized as a fellow Brahmin by a charismatic Hindu nationalist, Abhyankar (Atul Kulkarni), who tells him that revered hero Mahatma Gandhi is true cause for the violence.  Abhyankar convinces Ram that obliterating Gandhi would solve the "Muslim problem" once and for all and allow the creation of a great Hindu nation.  Ram, traumatized and thirsty to avenge his loss, joins Abhyankar's plot on the revered leader's life, and is selected to be the lone assassin.  His quest to fulfill what he perceives to be his destiny brings him face to face with an old friend - his former colleague, a Muslim, Amjad Ali Khan (Shah Rukh Khan) - and in the heat of battle Ram must decide where his true loyalties lie. 

Ram's arc is driven by his extended case of post-traumatic stress disorder; recurring visions of Apurna's violent demise haunt him and goad him in his descent from humanist man of science to the incarnation of a vengeful impulse.  The film is rife with images of masculinity, as if Ram feels less of a man for having failed to save his beloved wife from the rioters.  The pull of the Hindutva ideology on Ram is presented as a way to restore his manhood.  In his dreams he is beefcakey, bare-chested and strong.  In one arresting sequence, after he makes love to his new wife she transmutes into an enormous rifle in his arms.  And when Ram's Hindutva group plots the assassination, the group's leader (a deposed maharaja whose motivations are closer to bitterness and greed than to ideology) exhorts Ram to show the world that Hindus are "real men," not "effeminate lovers of truth."

While the powerful imagery (as well as the names of some of the characters) suggest analogues to the Ram of mythology that I don't fully understand, I can grasp the film's larger point:  Sectarian violence as a whole, says the film, is a hallucinatory spasm of PTSD, and only real connections with family and friends can stop it.  Indeed, Ram's first attempt on Gandhi's life is interrupted by his father-in-law, and it's the strong pull of his friendship with the Muslim Amjad that finally snaps him out of his Hindutva torpor.  Ram's true ideology seems to be the progressive, humanist one he expresses at the beginning of the film; his Hindutva phase is presented as a trauma-induced hallucination, taken advantage of by the darker forces in the film. 

The film supports all these rich layers of narrative with very good performances by a vast, accomplished cast - in addition to those mentioned above there are brief appearances by the likes of Hema Malini, Girish Karnad, Om Puri, and Naseeruddin Shah as Gandhi.  Ilaiyaraja's soundtrack is memorable too, especially the haunting "Janmon ki jwala," in which Ram reminisces about Apurna.  Even with the limitations of my own inadequate background, Hey Ram is a powerful story, well told. 

Mother India (1957)

The exquisite sacrifice that is the life of an Indian woman is a common and moving theme upon which many great Hindi films are based, from Amar Prem to Lajja.  And the mother of all these films may be Mother India, in which an Indian woman survives an almost unimaginable series of hardships and rejuvenates an entire village with her own backbreaking work, only to face the ultimate sacrifice - one she must make not only for her family, but for the good of the entire community.  

Radha (Nargis) marries the handsome Shamu (Raaj Kumar) and settles well into life with his solid agrarian family.  She soon learns, though, that her mother-in-law mortgaged the farm to pay for her and Shamu's lavish wedding celebrations.   The moneylender Sukhi Lala (Kanhaiyalal) claims three-fourths of the farm's produce, having tricked Radha's illiterate mother-in-law into signing a usurious contract.  As the family grows - Radha has three children - it becomes more and more difficult to subsist on their meager share.  The hardships multiply, leaving Radha and her children alone, homeless, and starving.  They survive through Radha's own tireless hard work, and her sons grow into strong young men, though each is scarred in his own way by the traumatic experiences of his childhood.  The spirited Birju (Sunil Dutt) is mischievous and temperamental; he is hungry to seek revenge from Lala, who still claims the lion's share of their produce.  The solemn Ramu (Rajendra Kumar) is protective of his mother and reflects her values, relying on hard work to make his way.  The tension between the two philosophies sets the stage for the film's ultimate conflict, as Birju's rash, violent nature clashes head-on with his mother's stern, grounded integrity. 

Mother India is a beautiful film, shot in beautiful brown and orange tones that both highlight the majesty of the rural Indian landscape and bring to life the grit and heat of working the soil.  The themes lend themselves to an abundance of iconic and symbolic images - Radha hauling a plow that is meant to be hauled by an ox; Radha standing neck-deep in flood waters, hefting her young children over her head on a pallet.  And Nargis, as Radha - really as the titular Mother India - is in absolute top form.  She is the epitome of badass filmi womanhood; she is simply fierce.  Nargis has crafted a performance that is melodrama at its finest, focused and heightened emotions that magnify the viewer's sense of Radha's experience.  Indeed, the multiplying calamities that befall poor Radha can be hard to watch - there are times when the story is so bleak it seems hard to carry on. 

Still, there is a current of hopefulness as well.  Radha's story is told in flashback; the film opens with the villagers asking Radha, now an old woman, to bless the inauguration of the village's new canal.  "You are the mother of us all," the villagers plead with the recalcitrant old woman.  And so the viewer knows, from the outset, that Radha not only will survive her trials, but will come to hold a revered place as the savior of the village.  Radha shoulders the burden of rearing her family and restoring a village upheaved, in what is surely a metaphor for the construction of modern India and healing the fresh wounds of Partition.  And so the film's message is, as it must be, that once Mother India has made the difficult decisions and painful sacrifices, those of her children that remain will be squarely on the road to prosperity. 

The film's second half is as much about Radha's sons as it is about Radha; much time is devoted to developing their contrasting approaches to reconciling with the past and preparing for the future.  The hot-headed Birju thirsts for revenge and lives in the moment; Ramu is practical, methodical, and hardworking.  The film is abundantly clear in its endorsement of the latter philosophy.  And yet as much as Birju frustrates her, Radha adores him; as in Deewaar, Mother India favors her miscreant son over her honest one.  The only limit Radha sets for her indulgence of Birju is one that reflects the film's girl power subtext:  "You may do as you like and I will always love you," she tells him, "but don't you dare ever disrespect a woman."

These comments are quite long enough, but I have to add a few words about Mother India's beautiful music.  The songs encapsulate the agrarian beauty of the film and present delightful tableaux of idealized life in a farming village.  While they don't stand alone - there are no singular dances or set pieces that stand out in my memory (except perhaps the Holi song) - they add texture, and in the film's darker moments, respite, to an already lovely movie.