To bring Johnny Walker Week to a close, a post from his daughter Tasneem Khan, about a friendship whose depth few people were aware of. Over to Tasneem:
Tag Archives: Bollywood
Johnny Walker: The Family Man
After the post about Johnny Walker, the actor, the famous comedian’s grandson Nabil Khan brings us another post about his granddad. And with two lovely photos too, of which this one in particular made me go all mushy and “Oh-so-sweet!!!”-ing:
Enough gushing. Over to Nabil, now:
Chhoomantar (1956)
Unlike Madhumati and Aar Paar, where he was just a supporting actor (though, in my opinion, his contribution to both films far surpassed the actual screen time of the characters he played), in Chhoomantar Johhny Walker is not just the funny man, but also the hero. He gets to sing and dance (the latter even in drag!). He gets to woo a pretty heroine, be brother to another lovely lady, and he gets to kick some serious ass.
Madhumati (1958)
A Johnny Walker film, but one that’s known for a lot else besides.
I always associate Bimal Roy with the Do Bigha Zameen or Parakh sort of film: deeply rooted in reality, both harshly real and heart-warmingly real. Stories about people like us, people with problems and joys like ours. His films are socially relevant ones that discuss issues like untouchability and corruption, poverty, alcoholism and the plight of those who aren’t economically or socially powerful enough to stand up for themselves.
Madhumati is the glaring exception, the extremely surprising entry in Bimal Roy’s filmography: a film that’s chockfull of everything one doesn’t expect of Bimal Roy. Reincarnation, spooks, multiple roles, atmospheric storms: one could almost think Ramsay Brothers. Thankfully, no; because Madhumati, though in a completely different genre than Bimal Roy classics like Sujata, Bandini, Do Bigha Zameen or Devdas, still bears the mark of a master craftsman. And it’s good entertainment value.
The Pardesi Extra’s Story
Earlier this month, this blog hosted a guest post by Fred Miller, son of the talented (but alas, largely uncredited) Sam Millar. Fred had promised us another post, of his reminiscences from his days with his father in the big, bad world of Hindi cinema in the 50’s, and here it is: a delightful, very personal and up-close memory of an extra in the Indo-Soviet film, Pardesi (known in Russian as Khozhdenie Za Tri Moray). In Fred’s own words:
And now dear Dusted Off readers, the untold story of the early days of Bollywood continues with a look at my role in Pardesi, an Indo-Soviet film from 1953, tied up in post-production until its release in 1957…
Agra Road (1957)
I should have smelt something fishy when I saw this:
That looks like Ravindra Dave was doing all his unemployed relatives a favour. Or, more ominous, he’d cut corners and employed people whom he could bully into accepting fees in kind—Diwali dinners hosted at the Ravindra Dave home?
Two hours down the line, and I am certain that Ravindra Dave didn’t really have the money to have been making a full-length film. A short, perhaps; but not this.
Shama Parwana (1954)
This film stars Shammi Kapoor.
If you like Shammi Kapoor, do not watch this film. If you are a glutton for punishment and want to see it anyway, do not watch the last ten minutes. I can guarantee that you’ll be happier for it; you can decide for yourself what you would have liked the end to be, and spare yourself the trauma of sitting through what is definitely the most horrifying end I’ve ever seen in a Hindi film.
The Talent of Sam Millar
Dilip Kumar. Mughal-e-Azam. K Asif. A very familiar poster.
But how many people know the name of the man who created this poster? The man who, in fact, created also the almost iconic Mother India poster? I didn’t, till a couple of weeks back. Then, one day, someone named Fred Miller left a comment on my review of the Premnath-Bina Rai starrer, Aurat. Fred told me that his father Sam Millar was the Art Director and Costume Designer for Aurat, and also the man (though uncredited) behind the Mother India poster—and more. Fred not only very graciously forgave me for lambasting the costume design of Aurat, but also agreed to do a couple of guest posts. Here is the first one.
Ten of my favourite Asha Parekh Songs
Today is the 68th birthday of one of my favourite actresses: Asha Parekh, beautiful, expressive, a fine actress and an excellent dancer.
Although she had worked in a handful of films as a child actress, Asha’s first onscreen appearance as an adult was an uncredited role in the Vyjyantimala-Kishore Kumar starrer Asha (1957). A year later, in 1958, she was billed in Dil Deke Dekho as ‘a Filmistan discovery’. And what a discovery! All through the 60’s, and into the first couple of years in the 70’s, Asha Parekh appeared in many of Bollywood’s biggest, most colourful, most entertaining films: Dil Deke Dekho, Jab Pyaar Kisi Se Hota Hai, Phir Wohi Dil Laaya Hoon, Love in Tokyo, Mere Sanam, Teesri Manzil…
So, in commemoration: a list of ten of my favourite Asha Parekh songs, all from films that I’ve seen. And, to prevent myself listing all the songs of films like Love in Tokyo, I’m restricting myself to only one song per film.
Happy birthday, Ashaji!
Dholak (1951)
I have been singularly lucky lately: instead of watching (as I usually end up doing) one not-so-great film after another, I’ve actually watched two absolutely delightful films within a couple of days of each other. The first was The Russians are Coming the Russians are Coming. The second, Dholak, was recommended by bollyviewer. It’s not listed on imdb, but it deserves all the publicity it can get, so I’m going to be doing my bit to say what a fabulous film this is.
Starring the ‘Lara Lappa Girl’ (as she was nicknamed after the success of Ek Thi Ladki) Meena Shorey opposite a very young and handsome Ajit, Dholak was the second of the films Meena Shorey made with her producer-director husband, the ‘King of Comedy’, Roop K Shorey. They had already made Ek Thi Ladki, which had proved a big hit. This one, released two years later, and with story and dialogues written by I S Johar (who had debuted in Ek Thi Ladki) is, in my opinion, even better than the earlier film.
Dustedoff 