गुड्डी
After a lengthy hiatus from viewing and writing about Hindi films, reviewing a movie dedicated to debunking filmy magic may not have be the best way to rekindle my own obsessive passions! But Hrishikesh Mukherjee's Guddi ("doll") is a sweet enough movie, and its rather blunt-force anti-escapism message isn't enough to deter me from getting my head back into Bollywood.
Kusum (Jaya Bhaduri), also called by the pet name Guddi, is a bright, studious, and mischievous schoolgirl with a taste for the movies. She is especially enamored of Dharmendra, and can't resist sneaking away from her studies to see his movies over and over again. While studying the poet Mirabai in school, Kusum sees a parallel between her love for Dharmendra and Mira's eternal devotion to Krishna. But Kusum's devotion to Dharmendra interferes with her family's plans to get her married to the kind young engineer Navin (Samit Bhanja). Kusum's well-connected uncle (Utpal Dutt) arranges for her to spend time in a movie studio with Dharmendra (playing himself), watching him at work, in the hopes that she'll come to see that the movies are little more than carefully-manufactured fantasy.
What stands out most in Guddi is Jaya Bhaduri's performance. Around 23 herself at the time of the shooting, she makes a very convincing girl of 16 or 17. (It helps that she's often shot from a high angle, making her look shorter.) Kusum flits rapidly between playfulness and petulance, projecting an air of girlishness that is at once endearing and exasperating. When her serious sister-in-law (the only mother figure in her life) encourages her to be more demure and grown-up, Kusum complies hesitantly, but in her discomfort one can also perceive a powerful longing to reach maturity. Kusum is very much a girl on the cusp - no longer a child, but not yet a woman - and Jaya ji's performance nails that tension exactly.
As a wide-eyed fan of Hindi films myself, it's hard not to share Kusum's sense of wonder as she drives into Bombay and gawps at the beautifully-painted film hoardings that tower several stories above her head. And her visit to the studios is at first equally enthralling and magical, as a parade of stars (Amitabh Bachchan, Ashok Kumar, Dilip Kumar, and others) provide cameo appearances in the form of takes from films that were shooting contemporaneously with Guddi. But soon the smoke and mirrors of filmi fantasy begin to show themselves. This is subtle at first - as when Rajesh Khanna repeatedly asks for his line during what purports to be a heartfelt declaration of love - and by the end the message is delivered with such force that even Kusum can't ignore it. Seeing how the sausage is made puts a quick end to her starry-eyed fantasies.
What makes Guddi less than satisfying is that while Kusum recovers from the childish crush, she nevertheless doesn't seem quite mature enough to be married. Worse than that, there is no affordance for her naturally playful personality, and no room for her to still enjoy the movies even if she isn't obsessed with them. I wish that Guddi could have left me with the feeling that Kusum had grown up without losing her essential spirit - but instead it leaves her growing up just like her dour, duty-bound sister-in-law. Life with the serious Navin - who doesn't like movies at all - doesn't promise to be a whole lot of fun.