I have seen Kiran Kumar as a hero in a few films 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.
Manmohan Desai has been often imitated but rarely matched in his ability to pull heartstrings while conveying indelible (if occasionally incoherent) messages. What a lovely surprise to find a hitherto unknown (to me anyway) film that at least engages the heart in much the same way, if not the soul. There are plot holes and loose threads and I cannot in all conscience call it a good film; but I was quickly engaged by a story whose loony details and characters are easy to grow fond of. Laxmikant Pyarelal provided some nice tunes for it too, and if the message is simplistic—“Love your mother, do an honest day’s work, and don’t sell out your country”—at least it makes good sense!
This entire review is nothing but a giant spoiler, because the ending especially is So Many Kinds of Wrong that I cannot do anything but tell you all about it. My sister pointed out that if Rush Limbaugh and his ilk were to make a film this might very well be it, a sentiment I fully agree with. It spouts the same judgmental and self-righteous crap that those people do and is just as egregiously dumb, although clearly many people don’t find it as obviously stupid as I do. It’s a typical Manoj Kumar venture: everything modern (or progressive) is evil and can only be redeemed through the influence of traditional (and repressive) values and mores. It sums up exactly why I hate his “Mr. Bharat” persona.
I watched this film years ago as part of my early obsession with Helen, and didn’t fully appreciate then how very unusual it is for its time. It must be one of the earlier examples of the 1970s resurgence into “parallel” cinema and hard-hitting social commentary directed at the country’s youth. As you may have guessed from the title, the story revolves around a woman named Kamini (Zahira) who has been forced into a life of “high-class” prostitution by a society which offers few choices to a girl—on her own in the world, trying to support herself—who is raped by her wealthy employer. I would assume that in 1974 India it was considered (and probably criticized for being) “titillating” but to my western eyes thirty-six years later it is compellingly and realistically tawdry and sad, and an excellent attempt to illuminate the injustice inherent in a woman being made to pay an ongoing price for her own victimization. It is a film that has stuck in my memory—and revisiting it for this blog is long overdue (it’s not a movie I want to see over and over again, though: it is pretty grim).
I watched a lot of films early on because they were on lists of Hindi film “classics” that one should watch. Some I remember well, some I do not. This is one that I didn’t think I remembered, until I began to watch it again and realized: “Oh this is where I saw that!” Turns out that a lot of my memories from “some movie” are all from this one. I’m hoping that the memories got fragmented because Hindi cinema was all so new to me back then—I was absorbing so many things, many of which I can take for granted now so they don’t distract me. Otherwise, I need to worry about my brain, because this is a great movie. The script and the performances are pure gold. If I had to put it simply I’d say it’s a story about choices, and the things that influence those choices and shape a human being, and it is done with such finesse that I am left speechless (okay, not really; this is a long post, even for me). It is a brilliantly crafted psychological portrait of the damaged Vijay in particular, supported by simply stunning performances from Amitabh Bachchan and Alankar Joshi, who plays Vijay as a boy. There is nothing wasted—not a word, not a look, not a nuance, not a scene.
So much fun and stylish goodness packed into one movie, it is beyond belief. Mumtaz is gorgeous, Feroz very manly in his hirsute way (and their chemistry sparkles). It’s really more like two films for the price of one. The first half takes place in glamorous Europe and revolves around a jewel theft, with some pretty scary-insane bad guys and some gloriously kitschy sets and costumes.
In the second half our hero and heroine return to India where the hero’s crime-lord brother awaits. Prem Chopra has an opportunity to do more than spit out one-liners through his clenched jaw, with a more nuanced role than he usually gets; and it contains one of the best nightclubs in Hindi cinema (my screencaps are out of control) complete with one of my favorite Helen songs of all time. In fact, all of Kalyanji Anandji’s songs are great. There’s plenty in general to entertain, and it’s clear that producer-director-star Feroz Khan spared no expense or imagination! (Also see Shweta’s review for her take on it—and more screen cap delights!)
MemsaabStory 