I am very busy these days with my new Indian Maa Edwina, who is visiting me for a month and bossing me around and cooking for me and making me laugh and laugh and laugh. (For lots more about her go here!) Also I have a new computer so am still in the process of getting everything transferred and software up-to-date and all that not-so-fun stuff. So in lieu of longer posts about films (although I’ll get to reviews when I can) I thought I’d entertain you with some of my favorite articles from my stacks of vintage magazines. They will be in pdf format and if you have trouble viewing them in your browser window, simply right- (or control-) click to save them to your hard drive and use Adobe Reader (free download) to open them.
This particular installment is an interview with the lovely Jennifer Kapoor, wife of The Shash and mother of aspiring actors Kunal, Karan and Sanjana, from the December 1983 edition of Stardust. Enjoy!
This film is exactly what I would picture a big long LSD trip to be like (because of course I have no actual knowledge of one). Although if it were an acid trip, I’d probably be dead now. It is that crazy: I have a pretty high tolerance—some less charitable might even say need—for eye-popping candy-colored visuals, but by the abrupt (and non-existent) end of this my head was exploding. Truly it is a dizzying kaleidoscopic bombardment of Cracktastic that never lets up. Low on budget it might be, but the heights of jugad are certainly scaled.
I also really love the cinematography (Shyam Shiposkar): the camera angles are fantastic. Much of the candy color is probably a result of film deterioration, but here that sad state only adds to the charm.
For me, An Evening In Paris = Pran’s bright orange Joker hair + lovely songs. It’s not one of my favorite Shammi films, although there is lots of pretty—especially Sharmila. In fact, everyone should have two hours of footage like this of themselves looking impossibly glamorous, heart-meltingly beautiful, and haughtily chic. If I were Sharmila I would probably watch this every day. Shammi is quintessential Shammi: he looks a little the worse for wear around the edges, but retains his considerable charm and his willingness to make a complete idiot of himself (one of my favorite things about him).
I think my main quibble is with the plot, which is all over the place (literally!), too long, and brain-dead in places. There’s also a complete lack of real character development. It’s as if Shakti Samanta just needed a backdrop for the music and stars and didn’t care about the rest; unfortunately it gets tedious, stylish though it is—the fashions and hair and sets, oh my! Plus it’s lovely to see the locations (Paris, Switzerland, Beirut, the Niagara Falls) as they were during that era, even if we are required to believe sometimes that Paris is filled with signs in German and that the French countryside looks just like India.
If I didn’t know any better, I would now believe that Sher-E-Watan means “Men Without Pants”. Experienced Dara fan though I am, the sheer amount of male crotch-and-thigh on display amazed me; most of them wear nothing longer than a micro-mini tunic (Dara’s looks like leopard print velvet) or short skirt. Female costuming is confused and random, ranging in style from Arabian Nights to 1950s American Prom. Of course, I am not complaining; in fact along with the music by Usha Khanna, muscular men and pretty women in sparkly costumes are basically the reason to see this. Along with the monster named Octopus which is actually a man in an ape suit with bear claws.
Oh Indian cinema, you truly are the gift that keeps on giving!
How much do I adore this film? Let me count the ways! 1) Dharmendra; 2) Mumtaz; 3) everybody else in it—wah! what a cast; 4) the gorgeous songs; 5) the fine ultra-masala plot; 6) Dharmendra’s chaddies; 7) the props and sets, including my new obsession the Egyptian Room; 8) the best use of Indian Movie Balloons and (possibly) Padma Khanna EVER; 9) Mumtaz’s outfits and Spare Hair; 10) no Comic Side Plot to speak of; 11) wooden gora extras; and 12) everything else I haven’t mentioned. Everything.
Finally I get to see Himansu Rai and Devika Rani paired together (although they aren’t very happy for much of it) in this early English-language talkie, a collaboration between Rai and an English movie studio. Unfortunately the audio and video in my copy is completely out of synch, but I persevered because the visuals are so great and at least I could understand what was being said, even if it was coming out of the wrong mouth. The ending is also very abrupt; I am not sure if it was due to damage or what, but you can’t have everything.
I gather that the film is mostly famous for having a very long kissing scene although no one ever mentions that Himansu Rai’s character is completely unconscious through it.
As with most unsubtitled, murky films with missing key scenes and transitions—and likely some reel mix-ups—I early on tossed any attempt to understand the plot by the wayside. But Jaal contains some highly entertaining elements like good songs, including a beach romp with Helen, Johnny Walker, and a host of emaciated goris in bikinis; Nirupa Roy in her element as the disturbed, bereaved Aunty; Tarun Bose as her creepy butler; and miniature boats and flashing lighthouse lights. Mala Sinha is given full scope for the things she does best: looking terribly chic in 1960s outfits, and going berserk in her own inimitable style.
I have seen Kiran Kumar as a hero in a fewfilms now and loved him in every single one. He has a sweetness about him, slightly clueless but kind at heart, which I find really appealing. He might not carry off “Angry Young Man” roles, but he is great in romantic and comedy films. This particular movie only falls under the comedy genre accidentally, but the role of a befuddled hayseed led astray by sophisticated evildoers is just perfect for Jeevan’s beta.
If I weren’t so lazy I would start another blog made up of nothing but the muddled synopses with which foreign cinema dvds are littered.
Sometimes they make me wonder why I even bother when my own prose will so obviously never reach such fevered heights.
And also, it looks like I may need to fast-forward through the first half of this one in order to get to the poisonous tentacles of the drug peddlers as fast as possible. Many thanks to Todd for bringing it so vividly to my attention.
I don’t even know what to say today…thanks to all of you who have come here to share your tributes and sorrow with me. He will always have a special place in my heart and I am so blessed to have been able to experience his warmth and enthusiasm and love of life in person: it never diminished, and now it never will.
Rest in peace, you lovely, lovely man. I like to picture you reunited with your beloved Geeta, and I wish for everyone whom you loved so much—especially Neila Devi, Aditya and Kanchan—to find strength in that love now. A star that shines as brightly as you always have can never ever be dimmed.
MemsaabStory 