I love pirate movies, especially when the pirate in question is a woman. And if that woman is also Geeta Bali, then…hooray! When I first saw this ten years ago or so I knew nothing about Guru Dutt except that I was “supposed” to watch all his movies if I wanted to be au fait. There is nothing I don’t love about it, except that it hasn’t survived in its entirety, mostly towards the end. Like most of Guru Dutt’s films today the video is murky much of the time, but there is no disguising how beautifully shot every frame is. Equally lovely is the music: OP Nayyar’s tunes have just the right changes in rhythm for what is happening onscreen, and the lyrics (Majrooh Sultanpuri) are wonderful (and subtitled). Sublime. And the cast is just superb. In addition to the gorgeous lead pair are the legendary Sulochana (Ruby Mayer), KN Singh at his suavely villainous best, Johnny Walker and Kuldip Kaur in prime comedic form, and Yashodhara Katju as Geeta’s sweet-faced, slyly clever best friend. They all are just so much fun to watch.
Recently the great-nephew of the prolific writer and director-producer Khwaja Ahmad Abbas left a comment here under my review of Char Dil Char Rahen (Abbas was the screenplay and dialogue writer on that film). Everyone is familiar with many of the movies he wrote, beginning in the 1940s: Neecha Nagar, Dr Kotnis Ki Amar Kahani, Awaara, Shree 420, Jagte Raho…the list goes on and on. He also wrote for film publications including my beloved Filmindia, and introduced newcomer Amitabh Bachchan in a film he wrote, directed and produced called Saat Hindustani. So I was thrilled to hear from Mansoor Rizvi, and he graciously consented to give us a guest post with some personal insight into a man who gave Hindi cinema and Indian literature and journalism so much.
He says he has much more to tell, too, so let’s give him some encouragement!
When friends ask me why I haven’t upgraded to digital high-definition from my 20-year-old CRT television set, I put a movie like this into the dvd player as explanation. It looks bad enough on my old workhorse, I can’t even imagine how bad it would look on HD. And really, I don’t want to ever stop watching movies like this, no matter how abysmal the video and audio might be. It is a riotously colorful Arabian Nights vehicle for tall, handsome Ajit in a last gasp as hero, replete with the loony touches and sumptuous sets and costumes for which director Mohammed Hussain is beloved (at least by me). Usha Khanna’s music is plentiful and fortunately pleasant (sometimes very much so), and Sayeeda makes a lovely heroine. The lack of subtitles, choppy editing, and poor made-from-vhs-tape quality cannot diminish my pleasure in it; I am even thrilled by the (some would say poorly) hand-drawn title credits.
As one of the first—and still one of the few—women to specialize in onscreen kick-assery, it’s no secret that Fearless Nadia is one of my idols (and I’m not alone in that by any means). So when she is set down in the heart of the Dark Continent with ooga-booga natives, pith-helmeted villains, handsome big game hunter John Cawas, and a loyal and clever lion named Shankar, the little African heart of this Memsaab goes pitter-patter. It’s also The Big Muscle Tussle month over at this site, where I am a rather unproductive member but whose other more participatory writers I cannot recommend highly enough.
There is quite a lot of muscle on display in this, and not all of it belongs to Nadia!
This week has been quite harrowing: my sweet little Callie had four seizures on Sunday and was admitted to the hospital for three days while doctors tried to figure out what was going on. The good news is that she appears to be in really good health, especially given her age and puppy mill past, except of course for the seizures (“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”). The veterinary neurologist (#firstworldproblems) has diagnosed her with idiopathic epilepsy encephalitis, which I think means they have no idea what’s wrong but have to say something because I’ve essentially just donated a new wing to the hospital. She’s now on two anti-convulsant medications a boatload of medications and home, staggering around like a drunken sailor and twitchy. It takes a little time for the meds to kick in (or to get the right dosage), but I am very hopeful that these partial seizures will stop soon.
UPDATE: She has been re-diagnosed with encephalitis (GME—autoimmune encephalitis). This makes me very sad, but it is treatable with a LOT of meds (including injections which I get to learn how to give) and very careful management. Luckily the neurologist I have is one of the best in the world at treating this, so I remain hopeful.
I do know for sure that both Gilda and I are very very happy to have her back with us, bobbling head and all. But I have not had the time nor the inclination to watch any films so you’ll just have to make do with more gorgeous Filmindia scans. I know, I know: they are no kind of substitute for my deeply analytic and scholarly reviews, but there you have it! Try to manage.
I have no idea what the plot of this movie is—seriously no idea—but I know that I love it. Even if with subtitles it became a maudlin, sexist melodrama (which I doubt) I would still love it. Why? Well for one thing it is extremely shiny. Premnath has a lair made completely out of mirrors, and not in a pretty Mughal-e-Azam kind of way but in a spectacularly gaudy disco kind of way. The songs by OP Nayyar are delightful and the cinematography (VN Reddy) is gorgeous. The cast is a veritable Who’s Who of character actors. And a still-dashing Sunil Dutt makes a dacoit I can really root for, although he does seem a little old for plump young Rekha. The story is liberally sprinkled with dacoit-drama masala ingredients: greedy moneylenders, long-lost daughters, flashbacks, dozens of people named Singh, pretty pretty Marwari horses, and real ruffians lurking beneath a veneer of respectability and draped with scantily-clad gori extras. I felt totally sated by the end.
Did I mention the mirrors? Lots and lots of mirrors.
Fans of Mumtaz now have another compelling reason to live!
I am so pleased to announce the arrival of a new Tom Daniel dvd compilation (be sure to read the attached pdf file for links to his previous dvds if you haven’t gotten hold of them yet). This is Part 1 of a three part series chronicling Mumtaz’s career, and contains 23 songs from her early years up through 1966. She truly deserves this kind of tribute to the formidable talent, charm and hard work that made her justifiably famous.
This is quite possibly the finest example of drama overload in Biswajeet’s entire career—maybe even in all of Hindi cinema history! I can’t stop watching it. I shared it last week on the MemsaabStory Facebook page, but since it is still making me laugh every single day and laughter makes the world go round, I thought I’d share it here too.
MemsaabStory 