Filmi Geek

Celebrating 100 - er, 70 - years of Indian cinema

May 3, 2013 is the date that has been generally agreed upon as the centennial of Indian cinema.  It marks the 100th anniversary of the release of Dadasaheb Phalke's Raja Harishchandra, arguably the first Indian-made feature film.

Movie magazines are celebrating the centennial, as are critics and commentators all over the Internet.  And now Filmi Geek is, too.  I have not yet seen Raja Harishchandra.  Indeed, I have not yet seen any movie older than Kismet, now 70.   And my own adventures with Indian movies began only eight years ago.  There are dozens upon dozens of cherished, wonderful Hindi movies I have yet to see, and I can't even be said to scratch the surface of Indian films in other languages - I can count on one hand the number of movies I've seen in Bengali or Tamil or Telugu. 

But that won't stop me from marking this centennial.  And so, here is a quick rundown of a few of the movies that I think are the best and most defining of each decade I've sampled.   I've only seen a few hundred Indian movies altogether, so there are many gaps in my knowledge.  And of course I don't have the space to highlight every significant film here or every film I have enjoyed (that is what the rest of this blog is for).  I hope you will use the comments to share your opinions and help me learn.

 

 

1940s

I haven't yet seen very many movies of the 1940s, but of the few I have seen, one stands out for its subversive themes and its influence on Hindi movies for decades to come:  Kismet.  There are more 1940s movies I want to see, like Anmol ghadi and others.  But I feel certain that if you have never seen a pre-Partition Indian movie, this is a great place to start.  Ashok Kumar at his dashing, understated best as a rogue with a heart of gold; a long-lost son reuinited with his family; a woman who gets pregnant before marriage and has a happy ending anyway; a patriotic song that thumbs its nose at the Raj - what more can you ask from a movie?

 

 

1950s

The yin and yang of this decade might be the pensive, brooding artistry of Guru Dutt and the broad showmanship of Raj Kapoor.   For me, as much as I admire Pyaasa and the ethereal grace of Waheeda Rehman, Shree 420 is one of my favorite Hindi movies of all time, with its flawless mixture of substance, sentiment, and pure delight.

But even more than that, the fresh beauty of Madhubala embodies the 1950s.  When Madhubala smiles, her warmth reaches out of the screen and wraps around you comforting as a hug.  My favorite Madhubala movie - indeed, my favorite Hindi movie - is Chalti ka naam gaadi.  This morning, I happened to hear "Ek ladki bheegi bhaagi si" while I was driving to work, and just thinking about the delicious romance between Kishore and Madhubala, the way his antics soften her indignation and draw out her sleepy smile, was enough to melt the tension of a hard week.    

Elsewhere in India, the 1950s belong to Satyajit Ray, the decade in which he established himself as one of the world's most sensitive and profound filmmakers with the Apu Trilogy.  I am sorry to say that to date I have only seen the third of these, Apur sansar - but that will change, soon.

 

 

1960s

Oh, how I love the 1960s.  Hindi films made the most of the bold styles of this decade.  From  Sharmila Tagore's bouffant to a dashing young Shashi Kapoor in stovepipe pants to Shammi's shimmy to the emergence of R.D. Burman's inimitable sound, the go-go era was made for Bollywood.  To me, the movies that epitomize this style the most are Jewel Thief, Teesri manzil, and Waqt.  

There is another strain in the 1960s, though.  While films like Jewel Thief glorify and even fetishize the influences of the West, films like Jab jab phool khile challenge and question them.  These tensions between East and West, between tradition and modernity, the friction of one against the other and the young republic's uniquely Indian blending and reconciliation of them - these are the themes reflected so richly in the movies of the 1960s, and why it is my favorite decade of Hindi films.

 

 

1970s

This decade can almost be summed up in two words:  Amitabh Bachchan.  This is the decade of the Angry Young Man, and the towering Amitabh Bachchan at the center of it all.  Established in Deewaar, brought to brooding perfection in Sholay, this character captured the angst of India wracked by political turmoil.  For me as an outsider, watching these supremely entertaining and amazingly rich movies has been a terrific way to imbibe a cultural history of modern India.  

The 70s is also the decade of masala at its zenith, and Amitabh Bachchan is right there in the middle of that too, teaming up with Manmohan Desai for incomparable movies like Amar Akbar Anthony. Such movies are for me an initiation of sorts; it took me a few tries to surrender to the aesthetic, but once I did, I never looked back.  There is nothing more satisfying than a masala smorgasbord.

The 1970s is a decade owned by Salim-Javed, those masters of entertainment that perfectly blends the populist and profound.  This is something Hindi movies do uniquely well - a significant reason why they have grabbed and held my attention.  It is a decade dominated by the groovy soundtracks of R.D. Burman and Laxmikant-Pyarelal - the first filmi music I ever heard, music that was a revelation to me and drew me ever deeper into its world.  Really, what's not to love? 

Still I can't discuss the 1970s without a mention of "parallel cinema," its contribution to my trajectory into Hindi films, launched by Shabana Azmi and the films of Shyam Benegal.  Few directors can map enormous social problems onto close studies of a few lives, the way Benegal can, in movies like Ankur.

 

 

1980s

This decade and the next are where my experience of Hindi films is weakest.  I think of them as dire times, characterized by aging heroes, rapey and regressive storylines, and styling that burns the modern retina.   Movies I have seen from this era, even sentimental favorites, seem often to separate desi from firang - they are the movies that are hardest to get, as an outsider, without the benefit of nostalgia. 

That said, the 1980s also saw a wonderful strain of delicate, thoughtful filmmaking, like the works wrought from the mind of Sai Paranjpe.  It is hard to believe that the same couple of years saw the unutterably dire Himmatwala and the masterfully tender Chashme Buddoor, but there it is.  For every Tezaab, there is a Masoom or an Arth, movies that tell mature stories from a woman's perspective.  And so, while the dreadful movies they were wasted in may dull the bloom of my love for the likes of Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi, at least the 1980s offer much to appeal to my sensitivity and intellect.  It's not all rape and bad hair.   

 

1990s

Numeric decades are arbitrary, of course; real social and cultural change happens on its own time, without consideration for nicely rounding our calendars.  And so, as far as Hindi films go, you might argue that the 1990s arguably began in 1988, with Qayamat se qayamat tak.  When I think of the kind of hero and the kind of masala romance that characterizes the 90s, I can see QSQT as the dawn of that era. 

The 90s to me are another decade I just don't know much about, though desis my age or slightly younger remember it with that tenacious nostalgic love that attaches to what was in the air at the time you came of age.  And so when I mention a movie like Hum aapke hain kaun (one of the first mainstream Hindi movies I ever saw, one that I love despite being utterly baffled the first time through), the reactions are mixed - either unselfconscious adoration, or grudging admission that "I saw it 14 times in the theater as a teenager but now I can't stand it." 

Same for the era-defining and starmaking Dilwale dulhaniya le jayenge - my review, written years ago, went easier on this movie than I would go today, as I find it regressive and its hero unutterably obnoxious.  Like it or not, though, I can see how this movie epitomizes the 1990s.

 

2000s

Modern Hindi films have a different set of sensibilities, unfolding as the nation and the many cultures it contains evolve and change.  The 2000s saw the beginning of the multiplex era, a new diversification of themes and tones and styles in movies that no longer tried to be all things to all audiences.  And yet the 2000s is also the era of the massive blockbuster; each year seems to bring a new record-breakingly popular movie. 

The 2000s is, of course, the decade in which Hindi films found me, and so I associate many of its movies with my earliest forays into their world.  Rang de basanti was the first Hindi movie I ever saw in a theater.  But the defining movie of the 2000s, to me, has to be Lagaan.  I love nearly everything about this movie, and I love the way it raised the bar for production quality in Hindi movies.  Hindi movies have so much to offer, so much richness, that they do themselves a disservice when they fail to give full attention to craft and technique.  Lagaan was not the first movie to do this, but it did serve as a reminder to the industry that such care can elevate a good movie into an unforgettable one.

 

2010s

This decade has only just begun, and I might even say it's a new Golden Era of Hindi movies.  The rich diversity of the multiplex era is in full swing and I really believe there is no limit to what Hindi movies can do.  The freedom to tell a wider range of stories, and to reach audiences that are hungry to hear these stories told - makes the future of Hindi movies as bright as any era in the past. 

It's an amusing exercise to think about what movies of this decade might be remembered and cherished 30 or 50 years hence.  When I first saw Band baaja baaraat, in its thrall, I made some bold and probably rather silly predictions about its place in history - though I still love the movie madly.  Delhi Belly represents a shift in focus, from idealized archetypal heroes to an urban ennui that must be terrifically relatable to the growing throngs of educated urban youth.  Perhaps English Vinglish heralds a channel for stories about mature women - as a woman myself on the threshold of middle age, I can hope so.  Kahaani represents a growing strain that does for Hindi movies what R.D. Burman did for filmi music - borrows storytelling modes from the west and absorbs them, integrates them, into stories that are still thoroughly Indian in their telling. 

100 years of Indian cinema, such a magnificent gift to the world.  Thank you, and here's to 100  more.

 

Showdown: Teesri Manzil vs. Jewel Thief

Vijay Anand's Jewel Thief is one of my all-time favorite movies.  The mod style, the richness of theme, the magnificent songs - it has everything and I never tire of watching it.

So frequently when I mention that, though, someone offers "Have you seen Teesri Manzil?  It's all that but even better."  Well I have seen Teesri Manzil, and I do appreciate everything it has to offer.  One of R.D. Burman's earliest and rockingest soundtracks, a terrific noir vibe, and Shammi Kapoor in his prime - who is understandably a little more broadly appealing (see what I did there?) than a slightly aging Dev Anand. 

At any rate, as much as I love the dark tale of Rocky and Ruby and Roopa and Sunita, the movie that rules my heart is nevertheless the one that romps and teeters on Sikkim mountaintops.  

But you know, that's just me.  And so I decided to throw the question out to twitter.  Which of these two oft-compared contemporaneous Vijay Anand classics do you prefer, I asked? 

Jewel Thief vs. Teesri Manzil

Methodology:  I posed the question on Twitter four times over the course of a day, hoping to bring in as many responses as I could.   I encouraged retweets to increase the data pool (though few took me up on that).  I favorited the responses so that I could quickly tally them, which I did 24 hours after initially posing the questions.  

Some responses came with commentary. Many noted what a close decision it was; some did not want to make any decision at all.

And yet, some folks voted with the enthusiasm of strong opinions.

Some folks preferred Jewel Thief  for Vijayantimala's great dancing, while other folks preferred Teesri Manzil in spite of that.

And then there is my personal favorite response, a memory of a Jewel-Thief-obsessed child that I could thoroughly imagine myself being, had I known about the movie at the right age.

At any rate, it was clear that both these  movies, often thought of in the same breath, are seriously and deeply beloved.  

And so when I sat down this morning to tally up the votes, I knew it would be close.  I didn't expect this:

Jewel Thief: 14 votes

Teesri Manzil: 14 votes

(Plus two voters who explicitly said they could not choose.)

So there you go.  The ultimate verdict is that there is no ultimate verdict.  We can go on loving these two great movies and debating which of them is better as long as we like. Register your vote in the comments - keep the debate alive.

Just as long as we keep watching them again and again. 

 

Janamdin mubarak Shashi ko!

It's Shashi Kapoor's 75th birthday and I'm delighted to celebrate with some of my favorites of his songs.

Like nearly everyone else, I love Shashi Kapoor.  Apart from being good-looking with a perfect mixture of doofy bashfulness and sparkling charm, he's also a fine and versatile actor.   The first movie of his I saw was Shyam Benegal's Junoon, where he gave a riveting and soulful performance, characteristic of the quality of his work in serious and artsy cinema.  Later I came to adore him in his jaunty masala avatar, the Ravi, the straight-laced do-gooder who occasionally cuts loose and does the mashed potato. 

Most recently, I've watched him as a child artiste in his brother's Aag (review forthcoming), in which he was the best thing about the movie by a country mile.  

Awww!  Cho chweet.

The internet at large knows Beth as Shashi's no. 1 fan and Chief Minister of Shashi Pradesh, and the title is not in any way undeserved.  But I do take some credit for this myself, because some years back I introduced her to Shashi.  At the time, I had seen Junoon and perhaps one or two other of his films, and something told me Beth would like this man, with his jouncy curls, his mile-long eyelashes, his snaggletooth, his remarkable acting chops.  Something told me she would like him A Lot.  So I urged her to watch, and watch she did.  And the rest, as they say, is - well, you know.

So without further ado, here (in no particular order) are a handful of my favorite Shashi songs.  What are yours? 

"Nain milakar chain churana"-- Aamne saamne (1967)

 

This movie is somewhat flawed but nothing about this song is, from Shashi's Shammi-like shimmy in his hot white stovepipe pants (60s men's fashions are my absolute favorite), to Sharmila's pout, to Rafi's vocals.  60s perfection!  My dil goes "squish" when Shashi sings "Sharmila dildaaaaar!"  (Bonus:  Prem Chopra doing the mashed potato.)

 

"Dil mein tujhe bithake" -- Fakira (1976)

 

More or less average masala (with a few notable highlights), Fakira does offer a couple of splendid songs.  This one is just deliciously naughty.   Shabana's character and Shashi's are secretly married - her family doesn't know - so he must sneak into her room for a romp, which wakes her parents.  They even break the bed, as the shot immediately after the song reveals ...

Clicketty for a full-size view of the naughtiness.

 

"Kehne ki nahin baat" -- Pyaar kiye ja (1966)

 

I have not even seen this movie - I can't find it - but I love this song in which Shashi leads an energetic band of young men to Om Prakash's doorstep to demand work.  It's everything good about the 60s, and everything good about 60s Shashi.

 

"Main to beghar hoon" -- Suhaag (1979)

 

This song epitomizes straight-laced, uptight Shashi, trying to resist the advances of a rather inebriated Parveen Babi.  I always lose it when he ties her to the jeep.

 

"Khilte hai gul yahaan" -- Sharmilee (1971)

 

And this song epitomizes pretty Shashi, turning on the charm for a cabin-full of impressionable young girls.  It's not really a fair fight, is it? 

 

"Hum to jhuk kar salam karte" - Fakira (1976)

 

I would not have guessed that this movie would end up twice on this list, but here it is.  There are a couple of songs along these lines, in which Shashi poses as a qawwal to pull off some scheme or another.  But this one gets the nod here because of appearances by Iftekhar, Asrani, and Danny Denzongpa. 

 

"Yahaan main ajnabee hoon" -- Jab jab phool khile (1965)

 

This movie is loved by some and despised by others.  I find it mostly interesting as a reflection of a certain conflict of its time.  But never mind that.  There are few movies in which Shashi looks more beautiful than this one.  And while any song from it offers that prettiness and deserves mention in this list, this song gets the nod because it is simply a gorgeous, sad song.  

 

"Hands up jaani" -- Bandhan kachchey dhagon ka (1983) 

 

Another movie I have not seen, this makes the list for its sheer WTFery.  Groovy Usha Uthup disco, whild outdoor parties, and Shashi temporarily mesmerized by Zeenat Aman's rack (I mean, who wouldn't be?), at least until upstanding-Shashi takes over and his gaze turns from lustful to disapproving.  Pure wackadoodle.

 

Honorable mention:  "Dhadkan har dil ki" -- Abhinetri (1971)

 

Beth brought this song to my attention the other day when I was discussing this idea for the post with her.  I haven't seen this movie yet either, as Beth - even as she gave me a copy - warned me that it was dire and regressive.  But this song is hilarious - as if a 10-headed pantomime Raavan-horse isn't already bursting with awesome, we have dire and regressive Shashi looking vastly uncomfortable at the very idea of a cabaret show.  THE VERY IDEA.

 

Happy Birthday, Shashi sahib.  Thank you for all the years of delightful entertainment.  May you live well and joyfully for many years more!

Filmi Geek on Filmi Geek

Last fall, Mette asked to interview me for Ishq, a German-language magazine about Hindi movies.  She emailed me a few questions and I replied with my answers. Mette translated my answers into German, and (as far as I can tell) the interview was available only in the print version of the magazine.  So here, in the original English, are (somewhat edited) Mette's questions and my answers.

---

About Filmi Geek

I started Filmi Geek in 2006. It contains a review of of every Hindi movie I have seen.  I like to think that my reviews tell you as much about me as they do about the movies; they chronicle my mental adventures as I have studied the rich cultural fabric of South Asia.  I strive to make my reviews small narratives in their own right, something more than just plot summaries or bullet point lists of things I liked or didn't like about a movie. The reviews I am the happiest with place the movie in some kind of context, whether cinematic, historical, or cultural, and have something to say about the movie beyond whether I liked it or did not. 
 

You describe yourself as an "overanalyzer of Hindi movies" - is it easier for the non-Indian viewer to indulge in Indian films that way, than it is for the Indian viewer?

I don't think so. I think it's more a matter of mindset. I have the impression that it was only fairly recently that large numbers of Indians started wanting to think analytically about Indian movies.  This impression may be wrong; it may be an example of recency illusion or a result of the internet raising my  awareness of what other people are thinking about.  But I perceive that there has been a wonderful explosion of smart, critical, incisive, thoughtful writing about Indian movies.   And while I am part of a significant firangi presence, most of this thinking is, in fact, coming from Indians. 

The nature of the analysis I do is surely different from the nature of analysis done by someone who grew up with these movies and the cultural environment they shape and reflect.  For me, the analysis is often about what I learn as often as it is about what the movies say.  But watching Hindi movies with one's brain engaged can be a satisfying experience for anyone inclined to it, whether Indian or firangi, and more and more people have been realizing that and doing it. 

Which actors that haven't shared the screen yet, would you absolutely want to make a film together?

I would give my right arm to see Shabana Azmi and Vidya Balan in a movie together.  Something akin to Tehzeeb (Shabana and Urmila Matondkar as mother and daughter) or 15 Park Avenue (Shabana and Konkona Sen Sharma as sisters) would be superb - something that substantively explores any kind of relationship between two adult women.  These two are both such strong actors; with the right script they could tell fantastically subtle and profound stories. 

As a new-coming Hindi film actress, would you rather opt for glamour or serious films?

I think with this question you might be asking me what kinds of films I prefer to see a new actor  do?  I'm going to answer a slightly different question.  I don't prefer one kind of film over another - I enjoy both, as long as they are well crafted. And different actors are suited to different kinds of roles.  So, it's a great thing that studios are making such a variety of films.

Also, Indian films have a long tradition of movies that are both glamorous and substantive - this is  something that Indian movies do perhaps better than any other film industry.  For instance, some of the great movies of the 1970s, movies like Sholay, Kaala patthar, or Deewaar manage to make profound statements about social issues while still offering a full meal of glamor and entertainment value.  Even earlier, Raj Kapoor did this too - Shree 420 is packed with entertainment and glitz and it carries a strong social and political statement.

So, I find that the art/mainstream or serious/entertaining dichotomy is a bit of a false one.  There is a continuum between thoroughly serious and thoroughly entertaining, and some movies manage to be both at once in very fascinating ways. 

Your favourite setting in a particular film?

It is interesting that you have asked this question now, because lately I have been thinking a lot about the role of location in films.  I took my first trip to India early in 2012 and found that seeing Indian cities, villages, landscapes, and environments in person has had a startlingly resonant effect on my experience of the movies.  I described it like this in a recent review on my blog:  watching Hindi movies has made India a fascination for me of limitless depth and life, and seeing India in person has made Hindi movies breathe with a new vivacity.

So I am especially fascinated by movies in which a location has so much vibrancy as to be a character in its own right - such as the Calcutta of Kahaani, or Chandni Chowk as brought to life in Delhi-6.  In older films, most of the time locations serve only as pretty picture-postcard backdrops (like Kashmir in Kashmir ki Kali and countless others), some of them do more to bring their locations to life, like Calcutta in the classic Howrah Bridge, or the bustle of workaday Bombay in Chhoti si baat.

Most recently, I enjoyed the location scenes in the brand-new Ek tha Tiger, especially the segments shot in Cuba.  As an American, I find Cuba an almost impossibly exotic locale - I have never seen a movie shot there and was completely thrilled to see it used so colorfully in that film. Who would have thought that after more than 200 Indian movies, the location that would feel to me the most foreign and exotic would be right here in my own hemisphere?

Is there a star you're missing on the big screen at the moment? 

Well, I am looking forward to the movies that Madhuri Dixit is working on. I think there is a shortage of Hindi movies (just as there is a shortage of Hollywood movies) that tell age-appropriate stories about mature women, and I'm hoping that studios can be convinced to make such movies with actors like Madhuri, Dimple Kapadia, and the like.  I am very excited about Sridevi's upcoming English Vinglish for that reason as well.  [Ed: I loved English Vinglish.]

Filmi Geek's Favorite Movies:  Too many to mention, and they often change, but my pretty constant top 5 for many years has been (in no particular order) Sholay, Jewel Thief, Lagaan, Shree 420, and Chalti ka naam gaadi.  Please see my Favorites category for a much more comprehensive selection.

Filmi Geek's Favorite Actors:  Again too many to mention; one of the reasons I love Hindi movies is that so many of the stars are maginificently charismatic and fun to spend a couple of hours with.  Shabana Azmi was my first love and remains a deeply admired favorite.   Some others worthy of mention include Ashok Kumar, Madhubala, Sharmila Tagore, Shashi Kapoor, Amitabh Bachchan, Hema Malini, Madhuri Dixit, Aamir Khan, Rani Mukherjee, and Vidya Balan.

Filmi Geek's Favorite Directors:  I have not been as clued in to directors over the years as I would like to be; recently I have started to remedy that.  And so I can name a few:  Vijay Anand, Shyam Benegal, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Manmohan Desai, and Vishal Bharadwaj.

Filmi Geek's 2012 in review

I missed too many well-regarded releases this year to produce a meaningful "Best of 2012" type list.  Without Gangs of Wasseypur, Vicky Donor, and other acclaimed new films, what business do I have making such assertions?

But all Hindi movies, new or old, are new to me.  And so anything I saw this past year can be part of my own personal best of 2012.  And I have had a very good year indeed for Hindi movies. I am fortunate to have the filtering lens of history and the very good sense of many friends to guide my movie choices. So it is quite rare that I see movies I really hate, and about a quarter of all the Hindi movies I have ever seen make it into my Favorites category. Even so, there are a few films that stand out as my best filmi experiences of the year.  Here they are, with links to my reviews of them.

• Kahaani (2012).  A movie that  makes many a best of 2012 list, I'm sure.  This was the first movie I saw after returning from India, and it made me want to march right back to the airport and get on a plane to Calcutta.  Kahaani had another effect on me as well - about halfway through, while Vidya Balan and her pregnant waddle filled the screen with irresistible presence, a thought struck me like a brick to the head:  "I am in love with this woman."  I was late to hop on the Vidya train, I know, but this is the movie that did it.

• Tere ghar ke samne (1963).  My viewing experience in 2012 was shaped and colored by my first trip to India, which came very early in the year.  I watched this film on the way home, hoping to extend the mood of my trip just a little longer, and was rewarded with its marvelous use of Qutub Minar in the brilliant song "Dil ka bhanwar kare pukar."  This is also the movie that made me realize that Vijay Anand is quite possibly my favorite director of Hindi movies.  There is not a flaw to be found in this beautiful piece of cinematic entertainment - I love everything about it. 

• Kaala patthar (1979).  The first "why did I wait so long to watch this" movie of my year.  Of course I did not know at the time that this year would be Yash Chopra's last.  When he died, I remembered him in the taut perfection of this movie and how it delivers everything that makes me love Hindi movies in one riveting package. 

• Band baaja baaraat (2010).  Part of 2012 for me was catching up on recent releases I'd missed while being occupied with other projects.  So here on my best of 2012 list is a movie that made many best of 2010 lists.  I will allow that my gushing over this movie may have been a little out of proportion to its eventual place in history.  However, I have watched it three or four times this year and I have to say it still stands up.  It's one I'll show to newcomers, as well. 

• Ek Saal (1957), Mahal (1949), Kismet (1943).  This is cheating a little, as none of these is really all the way to a favorite movie.  But one of the themes of my 2012 viewing has been growing respect and love for Ashok Kumar, who has risen to become one of my all-time favorite actors.  These aren't the only movies of his I saw this year - I also got to see his delightful avuncular avatar in movies like Chhoti si baat and Aradhana - but they are early, stardom-defining turns of his, that gave me a lot of insight into the man and his enduring appeal.

• Chhoti si baat (1975). Such a delightful confection that lands me squarely on the Amol Palekar train (in case there was any doubt after Golmaal).

• The Dirty Picture (2011).  If Kahaani made me fall in love with Vidya Balan, what do I really need to say about The Dirty Picture?  In that respect, the review speaks for itself.

• Delhi-6 (2009).  This movie closed the feedback loop between my visit to India and my experience of Indian movies.  As I said in the review, "watching Hindi movies has made India a fascination for me of limitless depth and life, and seeing India inperson has made Hindi movies breathe with a new vivacity."

• English Vinglish (2012). Another movie that makes many best of the year lists.  There isn't much I can add to the mostly ebullient discourse about this touching, delightful movie, except that I can't wait to show it to my mother.

• Naya daur (1957).  This movie did not exactly make a Dilip Kumar fan out of me, but there is much to love in it all the same.  A clear antecedent of one of my all-time favorites, Lagaan, Naya daur offers grand allegorical themes, vibrant characters, and absolutely wonderful songs.   A classic I have not seen many discuss, I am very glad to have learned about it in 2012.

• 7 khoon maaf (2011).  This bizarre, intriguing movie snuck up on me, and by the time it was done I couldn't wait to watch it again.  An unexpected keeper.

Honorable Mention:  Tere naal love ho gaya (2012).  Cute and harmless, this not a memorable movie by any objective standard.  But I saw this movie in a cinema hall in Jaipur - the first and to date the only movie I've seen in a theater in India, and so it ranks easily among my best filmi experiences of 2012 and it will always be close to my heart.  And to be fair to this little movie, I rewatched it recently (for mindless viewing while suffering a stomach flu) and found it held up to the rewatch - still cute and adequately entertaining, with more than a few legitimate laughs.

Thanks for reading.  Here's to a filmi 2013 that is just as satisfying and enduring for me and you as well.

Filmi Geek turns six, and offers a thoroughly self-serving post

This month, Filmi Geek (the blog, not its author) turns 6.  In those six years, I have published well over 200 movie reviews here. 

But not all reviews are created equal. 

Some of the older reviews on this blog truly make me cringe - if I had time I would rewatch the first 50 or 75 Hindi movies I ever saw and rewrite every last review in the light of what I know now, both about movies and about writing about movies. 

In contrast, every once in a while I write a review that I'm actually rather proud of - one that captures what I felt while watching, or that explores an interesting idea.  My favorite reviews have a cohesive narrative structure of their own, something more than a paragraph-separated recounting of highlights and lowlights.  The best reviews, I think, tell you as much about me as they do about the movie. 

In honor of Filmi Geek's 6th birthday, I offer this thoroughly self-serving post, in which I browse my own archives and compile for you a selection of what I think of as Filmi Geek's very best.  These are not necessarily reviews of my favorite movies - those can be found, for better and worse, in the GOAT's Favorites category. Rather, these are the reviews that come closest to achieving what I strive for every time I sit down to write:  my experience of a movie and my thoughts about it, presented (I hope) in a way that is interesting for you. 

So, without further nattering, here is what I think is the best of Filmi Geek so far.  Thank you very much for reading.  Here's to six more years.

 Band baaja baaraat (2010)

This is a rather gushing review, and gushing reviews aren't always my favorites.  After all, there are only so many superlatives one can trot out.  But in my gushing about this sweet movie, I went out on a limb and made some bold proclamations about the future of its stars.  I am already fairly certain those predictions will prove false.  But I am still pleased with the review, for taking that chance.

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Caravan (1971)

Another gushing review that injects a small amount of substance.  The review does pause to acknowledge some problems with the movie, before waving them away to revel in the delicious sweetness of the movie and the intoxicating sway of Aruna Irani's hips.

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Chokher Bali (2003)

  

Writing about movies I hate is even more satisfying than writing about movies I love.  Here, I tear apart a movie that is simply a horrid example of filmmaking craft gone wrong. 

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Deewaar (1975)

Although this is another gushing review, I feel it captures better than some exactly why I love the movie so much.  It's a solid discussion of the movie's themes and devices, and offers a bit more substance than a mere rattling of superlatives.  

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Delhi-6 (2009)

This was one of the first movies I saw after returning from my first trip to India, and the experiences of that  visit shaped my experience of the movie.  This review explains the feedback loop by which my visit to India colors what I see in the movies, and vice versa.  It also discusses the vitality of location  in a film.

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Devdas (2002)

Another example of shredding a movie I despise.  This is a fairly old review, and it's the first movie I really attacked with glee and with the gloves off.  My language in this review may have waxed somewhat purple. It's very tempting to get hyperbolic when tearing apart an awful movie.  Since this movie is itself so hyperbolic, I don't feel too guilty about going over the top myself.

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The Dirty Picture (2011)

I ventured outside my usual review format for this recent review.  It is a dialogue between my serious, nerdy side - the one who usually reviews movies here - and the side of me that is just plain turned on by Vidya Balan.  The result is not everything I hoped it would be, but I think it makes an entertaining read.

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Garm Hava (1973)

This gorgeous movie inspired some of my better turns of phrase, as I worked to capture some of its lyricism in my review.  As a bonus, there is an interesting discussion in the comments with someone who criticized me for being excessively sympathetic to Muslims. 

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Godmother (1999)

This is one of my all-time favorite Shabana Azmi movies.  I like this review, one of my older ones, because of its discussion of the film's rich substance.

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Howrah Bridge (1958)

This movie's use of Calcutta as an exotic backdrop for its story allows my review to cover two of my favorite themes:  Location as a character in its own right, and the use of exoticism in storytelling. 

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Jab jab phool khile (1965)

In this relatively early review I struggle with the problem of bringing an outsider's point of to view to criticism of the substance of Indian films.  Kaise bhool jaaun ki main Hindustani nahin?  I don't always get the balance right, but I was pleased with the way this review expresses my attempts to think about it.

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Mahal (1949)

Though my friends are often kind enough to vouch for my wit and humor, for whatever reason these qualities - to the extent I have them - don't show up here on the blog very often.  But this weird movie brought my sense of humor out to play, and resulting in that rarest of creatures:  A funny Filmi Geek review.

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Ra.One (2011)

More gleeful evisceration of a dire and dreadful movie.  This one is almost unfair, because the movie is so horrid that a vituperous and snarky review practically writes itself.   Trashing a movie like this is the film critic's equivalent of popping bubble wrap - it's not terribly challenging, yet it's immensely satisfying.  I include the review because I did manage some substantive criticism in the midst of all that joyous venom.  

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Rocket Singh: Salesman of the Year (2009)

Writing about movies that are good, but could have been great, is of particular interest to me.  I find it quite compelling to analyze precisely where a very promising movie bumps off the rails.  What intrigues me about this review is that my interpretation of what's wrong with this movie isn't universally shared, and may in fact be colored by my perspective as an outsider, a non-Indian viewer of a very Indian film.  Some of that difference of opinion is explored in the comments.

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Sharmilee (1971)

Like Jab jab phool khile, this movie touches on the east-west tension that I find terribly fascinating in movies of this era.  This is a relatively old review, and so its tone is not as delicate as I would like; I didn't know enough, at that point, to know the contours of what I don't understand about the complexities of India.  I would tread more lightly today.  Still, I like the review for its examination of that favorite theme of mine.  

No way, we won't pay - The Broadway-Bollywood Exchange, Parts 2 and 2.5

Not long ago I began a sort of cultural exchange with a friend of mine who loves Broadway musicals as much as I love Hindi movies.  In the first Broadway-Bollywood Exchange, "Bhoot meets Phantom," we watched Paheli and a staging of Phantom of the Opera.  The event was a success, in that we both had a good enough time to do it again.  And so, for round two, my friend brought over Rent (not a staging, but the 2005 film adaptation that featured much of the original Broadway cast), and I hauled out Lagaan.  And this post has now languished unfinished for long enough that we had time to get together again and watch The Dirty Picture.

First, Lagaan and Rent.

We didn't plan it this way, but both of these films feature ensembles of rag-tag folks who band together to face down oppressive forces of rich and powerful folks who try to collect dues from them.   Just as Lagaan's crew presents a microcosm of Indian diversity, the Rent crowd condenses the Bohemian Lower East Side into a handful of vivid totems. 

But that is really where the similarities end.  While Lagaan is a single story driven by a charismatic, confident leader in the form of Aamir Khan, Rent is more truly an ensemble, with several parallel threads woven loosely together by a group dynamic.  And by the way, Rent is a superb show.  It is dated, in all the best and most positive senses of the term - it perfectly captures a place and time that have since evolved and no longer can be found the way they were when the show was written, in the late 1980s - early 1990s.  At the show's core are three love stories - one between two men, one between two women, and one heterosexual.  This skirts the edge of tokenism, but the beauty of these stories is that each arc is driven by the personalities involved in each couple, not their sex or their sexuality.  (Contrast Lagaan, in which all of the three women in the film naturally adore the hero - one is his mother.)

The highlight of Rent is the magnificent ensemble number, "La Vie Boheme."  This song is masterful - it walks a delicate line perfectly, simultaneously glorifying and poking fun at the free-spirit Bohemians and everything they value.  (Forgive the dig at Calcutta - they obviously hadn't seen Kahaani.)

 

This is great stuff - affectionate, self-deprecating, clever.  And also really, really different from anything I've ever seen in a Hindi movie.  This gets to the core question I've had since the Broadway-Bollywood exchange began - the apparent lack of crossover appeal between these two art forms.   I think the answer is that while they are superficially similar  in the ways I discussed in my previous post, the style and overall aesthetic senses are quite different.  In Hindi songs, singers rarely harmonize - even with the widespread adaptation of western musical styles, the kind of harmonious counterpoint common in Broadway shows hasn't really entered the filmi musical lexicon.  Moreover, song production in Hindi films remains somewhat sloppy about picturizing the same voice on different actors - my friend commented on this while we were watching Paheli, and it grated on me even more recently in The Dirty Picture, where a rivalry dance-off, "Honeymoon ki raat," would have been a much stronger scene if they'd bothered to use different voices for the two women. 

This is not a well-developed theory, but it's leading me to think that the musical and performance aspects are so strong in Broadway as to be the principal reason people watch the shows.  In Hindi films, in contrast, songs are beloved, and movies are also beloved, but somewhat independently of one another.  For example, one could not reasonably say of Rent, the way I have of Devdas, that the movie is atrocious but the songs are wonderful.  And conversely you couldn't have an excellent Broadway show with forgettable songs, the way you can have a fantastic Hindi movie whose songs fall flat (say, Khamoshi).  (No, I didn't intentionally choose two Bhansali movies for those comparisons - I noticed that they were while proofreading this post.  How did that happen?  I suppose I unconsciously remembered the Broadway-inspired aspects of Bhansali's own style, on display most notably in the solidly mediocre Saawariya.)

I still think there is room for overlap, or at least appreciation, of one form by fans of the other.  I am ready to watch more Broadway shows and appreciate them for what they are, even if they don't occupy the same brainspace for me that Hindi movies do.  And there is still room for shared delight in the way songs are picturized and staged.  It might just be the weird way my brain works, but watching Angel and Collins romp through the streets of New York in Rent's "I'll cover you" put me in mind of Madhuri Dixit and Akshaye Khanna dancing through Vancouver in Mohabbat.  (Watching the songs back to back now, I realize this makes no sense at all, but come on folks, work with me here.)

  

 

At any rate, the point is that despite some obvious differences we are still enjoying one another's respective enthusiasms.  About Lagaan, C. said simply, "I liked it," followed by, "it was long."  As we watched, she anticipated nearly every turn - Lagaan is not really complex.  She was a little confused by the cricket, though - I forgot how hard that aspect of the movie is when you are totally unfamiliar with the game.  And she asked a question about the climax that I could not answer:  on the final no-ball, why does the village side get to switch batters?  I know someone out there can help us with this. 

And now, on to Part 2.5 of this exchange:  The Dirty Picture.  

Two main takeaways from the experience of sharing this with C.: (1) Vidya Balan does not light C.'s fire the way she does mine.  (This is fine and only fair; Sierra Boggess doesn't turn my crank the way she does C.'s.)  (2)  If Vidya Balan does not light your fire, some of The Dirty Picture's scenes that I find so, er, stimulating, come across as cheap and rather cheesy.  C. actually laughed through the bow-chicka-wow-wow red negligee scene that (I am increasingly embarrassed to admit) melts my shorts.  The best moment of the night came during that scene, though, when C.'s wife shouted in from the other room, "That sounds like a porno!  Are you two watching a porno in there?"

I blushed a little.  Okay, a lot. 

C. liked the movie overall, though.  She found the ending "somehwat Marilyn Monroe-esque" and was surprised to learn that the film was based on the life of a real person other than Marilyn Monroe.  And, she was very impressed with Vidya's performance.  "You don't realize just how much she has transformed," C. said, "until you see the flashbacks at the end."  Toward the end of the movie, a bloated, exhausted, broken Silk stumbles through the streets of Madras and sees scenes from her rise to fame reflected in various bits of glass and mirrors.  The contrast is startling - there is a freshness in those early scenes that gives a palpable sense of them as a very, very long time ago.  So:  still more praise for Vidya's excellent work.

There will be more in the Broadway-Bollywood Exchange series - C. and I seem to enjoy watching movies together.  Up next, Chicago ...

 

 

 

 

The Broadway-Bollywood Exchange, or Bhoot Meets Phantom

I have a friend who loves Broadway musicals as much as I love Hindi movies. 

One day over lunch, not too long ago, we were comparing notes about our respective passions.  It occurred to me that the two forms have a great deal in common.   Both have musical production numbers, of course, but also melodrama, archetypes and allegory, big emotions, and - so compelling to both my friend and myself - chest-heaving heroines succumbing to passion against their better judgment.

An idea took shape as we talked, a sort of  "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" exchange - we planned a day where we would get together and watch both a Broadway show and a Hindi movie.

I asked around the internet filmi communities for recommendations for a film to show her - surely there were legions of people who were fans of both forms and would be full of ideas about what films had Broadway-crossover appeal. But there wasn't much response.  The few suggestions I got were not markedly different from suggestions commonly made for introducing any newcomer to Hindi films. And only one person I found was herself a Broadway fan.

That lone Broadway fan made an interesting remark.  "You would think there would be all kinds of crossover appeal," she said, but in fact there doesn't seem to be.  Her own attempts to introduce her theater friends to Hindi movies were received well enough, but did not take root and create new Bollywood fans.

And so, when the day came for me and my friend and our Broadway-Bollywood exchange, I went in with the spirit of an anthropologist exploring the differences between two cultures.   I wanted to know why the commonalities weren't strong enough to create a common fandom.   What would I find lacking in Broadway?  What would put her off about Bollywood?  I tried to keep an open mind and also to put no pressure on my friend - I promised myself I wouldn't be defensive if she didn't like what she saw. 

My friend chose a recording of a Royal Albert Hall staging of Phantom of the Opera, starring her crush-du-jour, Sierra Boggess.  (Going to a live performance would have been ideal, but also expensive - this production of Phantom was a reasonable second choice.) 

I am not going to judge the appeal (or lack thereof) of modern Broadway productions based upon this one show.  Phantom of the Opera is a show with many warts - its score is bombastic and dated, its book somewhat lacking in substance.  Its heroine, Christine, is a simpering thing, and she doesn't get much to do beyond look fetching and sing at the command of various men, often against her will.   In that, though, she is not that much different from many filmi heroines!  Though, it would have been nice to see some defiance in her reluctant performance of the Phantom's composition, like Basanti's command performance for Gabbar Singh.  What she does show is not exactly defiance:

 

*cough* 

In another notable parallel to the traditions of Hindi movies, certain songs serve as a thinly-veiled substitute for sex scenes; the climax of "Music of the Night" is quite clearly just that, as the Phantom repeatedly cries "Sing!" while Christine squeals out ever higher, louder, and more ecstatic notes.  "Well, that wasn't the least bit orgasmic, not at all," I commented to my friend.  ETA: My friend informs me that I have my songs mixed up.  What I have described here is the climax of the show's title song. "It's the lead-in to 'Music of the Night'," she tells me, "which is post-coital." 

For what it's worth, while Phantom will never be my favorite show, it offers plenty to impress.   The staging is large and spectacular, with a few grand production numbers and even a little bit of dancing.  The most fun choreography comes not in a dance production, but in bustling scenes where characters glide around the stage in a delightful kind of orchestrated chaos.  And the pure talent and ability of the performers is nothing short of stunning - it's unbelievable that they execute near-flawless live performances show after show, day after day.

After the curtain came down on Phantom of the Opera, it was Bollywood's turn.  I had deliberated for weeks to choose a movie for this event; it's always hard to pick one movie to do all the heavy lifting, to be the sole representative of a vast, diverse century of Hindi cinema.  I settled on Paheli, a movie that I love for its style and color - especially since my trip to Rajasthan - and its delightful songs.  I love it also for Rani Mukherjee, who perhaps isn't to me quite what Sierra Boggess is to my friend, but is thoroughly delicious nonetheless.  (I wanted to showcase my own crush-du-jour, Vidya Balan, but I didn't have a suitable newcomer's movie on hand.)  I also love that Rani's character in Paheli makes a bold assertion of her sexuality, choosing with fully informed consent to get it on with the bhoot instead of enduring five celibate years of her husband's absence.  She is a much more willful and substantial heroine, and much less an ingenue, than Christine.

The first thing my friend noticed (after I apologized profusely during Eros's interminable, unskippable promos) was that unlike Broadway, the actors don't do their own singing.  (My friend has a good ear; Paheli's opening song, "Minnat kare",  is sung by Shreya Ghoshal only, but lines are picturized on several different women.)  I think this was a bit of a disappointment to my friend; when I probed her afterward, she said that a good part of the appeal of Broadway to her is the spectrum of talent of the performers, and the pure awesomeness of the live performance I mentioned above.  I have heard others make this complaint about Hindi films, and I admit it somewhat puzzles me; I have no problem with the division of labor, letting the actors act and the singers sing.  But, it's a problem inherent to comparisons across media - while Broadway and Bollywood do have some elements in common, there are some inherent differences between movies and live shows - different constraints and different advantages to each - and if a person prefers one over the other, de gustibus non disputandum.

 

At any rate, while my friend didn't offer much commentary during the screening of Paheli - and I didn't press her for any while she was watching - she was rapt throughout, which was good enough for me.  (She especially enjoyed the peanut gallery of puppets with their running commentary on the proceedings.)    The verdict is the best I could have hoped for - she wants to do it again.  Next time, I think I'll show her Lagaan.   She is a serious fan of football (the American kind), and so I think she'll get a kick out of the cricket and appreciate the sports-movie arc of the film.  Also, being accustomed to the broad strokes and playing-to-the-cheap-seats acting style of Broadway shows, she is less likely than the average westerner to be put off by some of the more unsubtle characterizations in that movie, such as Captain Russell's mustache-twirling villainry.   ("I'm not afraid of cheese," she said to me at one point, "I like cheese."  She is most definitely Bollywood-ready.)  Or maybe I'll go classic, and risk Chalti ka naam gaadi - that has the advantage of a tasty helping of Madhubala, along with Kishore Kumar singing his own songs.

Whatever we choose, the anthropological study will continue, and we'll see whether, at least in our two cases, a Broadway fan can become a Bollywood lover and vice versa.  It's a bit of an unfair arrangement, for now, as DVDs of live stagings are not easy to come by, so she can't show me her favorites as easily as I can show her mine.  I would love to see a live show with her - maybe next summer, when a production of Wicked comes to our city, we will make that happen.  In the meantime, we'll make do with what she has on hand.  And, I'll keep you posted.

 

A departure from format: In the Name of Research

Ever since I launched Filmi Geek more than 5 years ago, I have stuck pretty firmly to my format:  movie reviews, 600-1000 words in length.  For the most part, I haven't been tempted to write posts with compilations or lists.

But for the celebration of women in Hindi cinema going on this month, hosted by the Totally Filmi blog, I've decided to do something a little different.  I've seen so many posts over the years by so many bloggers paying tribute to the hottest stars, the chocolate heroes who light up their dreams, the swoon-worthy stars who make their hearts go pitter-pat.  And I decided I wanted in on this action, and a chance to offer a lesbian perspective what is sexy about Hindi movies.

After all, there's only so much serious feminist thinking a girl can do.  And I've done plenty of that, here on Filmi Geek and elsewhere too.  But once in a while, even an earnest geek like me just wants to kick back and enjoy some of the eye candy that Hindi movies have to offer. 

In the name of Research (*cough*), I performed extensive field studies, scouring YouTube for the best chest-heaving, midriff-baring goodness  I could find.   And so without further ado, here is a sampling of the filmi women who turn me into a slack-jawed heap of "guh".

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Sharmila Tagore

I was recently talking to Beth about her reaction to Saif Ali Khan in Agent Vinod, and while I agreed that he's not bad for a fellow, I had to say that his mother is really more my speed.  This song is Exhibit A - the dimples, the midriff, and oh those hips ... Sharmila is the one star for whom I have reserved the title "Crushasaurus", and she is just good enough to eat. 

 

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Madhubala

Two words:  lickable collarbones.   But in this song from Mughal-e-azam it is the coquettish facial expressions that get to me, especially when she bites her lip - GUH.  Oh, and those hips - have I mentioned that I have a weakness for a nicely curved pair of hips?  Still scraping my jaw off the floor years later...

 

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Madhuri Dixit

Aww hells to the yeah.  Madhuri is so delicious that she gets more than one video in this post.  First, and most obvious, a song that has three stars: Madhuri and choli ke peeche jo hain... I have a good friend who is a 50-ish lesbian, born and raised in the most genteel city in the American south.  She prides herself on her poise, level head, and gift for understatement.  When I showed her this song, she was quiet for a long time ... and finally allowed, "Cute gal." 

 

But Madhuri is more than just T & A in semi-traditional dress; she is sizzling hot in a modern milieu as well.  I love her look and her moves in this bit of Prabhu Deva genius.

 

I could go on, and on, and on ... but I'll content myself with one more.  This song, from an otherwise thoroughly forgettable movie that I never even got all the way through, does very, very bad things to me.  If I wasn't queer before I saw it, I would be after.  And again, with the hips!  

 

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Aruna Irani

In my review of Caravan, I praised Aruna's midriff as a magnificent character in its own right.  This song summarizes why - yum.

 

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Nadira

Rawwrr! 

And she's from my tribe, too. 

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Rani Mukherjee

I think Rani is adorable, a particular type of adorable that is very, very sexy.  I had a hard time choosing a song that encapulates what is sexy about her, though.  In this song from Yuva, she shows a very smoldering, sensual side - and for that, for its mature sexuality, it's as good a choice as any. 

 

Edit:  I can't believe I forgot to mention this next song.  WHAT WAS I THINKING.  Dil bole hadippa is dripping with delightful subtext that plays right into my obsession with butch style.  So, despite the rodent-faced Rakhi Sawant, this song of Rani's definitely makes me sit up and take notice - that's quite an impressive rod you've got there, Rani.

 

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Zeenat Aman

An obvious choice, but hey - she's got it, and it works on me.   I thought about highlighting one of Raj Kapoor's skinfest songs from Satyam shivam sundaram - some of them are lovely, even steeped as they are in the male gaze.  But I settled for this one instead, from the full-on wackadoodle masala joyride that is The Great Gambler.  I  understand just how Amitabh Bachchan and Prem Chopra feel during this one.   

 

Because, you know, hips.  And midriff.  And hips.

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Vidya Balan

Like everyone else in the known universe, I am high on Vidya Balan these days.   However, unlike everyone else, I am behind the 8-ball and haven't yet seen The Dirty Picture (I'm saving it for a special moment).  So I'm not going to offer up a song for Vidya.  Instead, I'll just present this picture, which perfectly captures much of what it is about Vidya that lights up my girl-parts.  This is the kind of woman who reminds me why I like women. GUH.

mmmm... hm?  what was that?  oh, right - writing a blog post, I remember now.

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Shabana Azmi

You didn't think I'd get all the way through this post without mentioning her, did you?  She doesn't quite fit with the others here, because what turns me on most about her is what is between her ears, not what's beneath her blouse.   Which is not to say that she isn't stunning in her own right!   In this song from the amazing movie Godmother, she is fierce and gorgeous as a group of women dance for her drunken pleasure.

 

And for pure heart-melting beauty, I don't know of a better song than this bittersweet ghazal from Arth:

 

But now I've drifted far away from the spirit of this post.  So let me close with something that puts the mind (well, my mind, at least) back in the proper frame of reference ...