Akeli Mat Jaiyo (‘Don’t Go Alone’—specifically addressed to a female) is, if nothing else, very aptly titled. Because if you gallivant where you’re not supposed to, you run the risk of being pursued by a moron whose best friend is a ventriloquist’s dummy. You may end up betrothed to somebody whose family includes a father with a loony sense of humour. Worst of all, you may have to stake your all on saving the ‘life’ of that ventriloquist’s dummy. So yes, akeli mat jaiyo. No way.
Sabrina Mathew’s latest post is an interesting one that compares the two (1968 and 1999) versions of The Thomas Crown Affair. A couple of things from Sabrina’s review struck me: “The remake is keenly aware that the original got away with a lame robbery only because Steve McQueen planned it. So the remake fixes the problem with a daring art heist…”. And, ”The film is not just content with redoing the heist bit; it also wants to fix the romance by giving it a happy ending.” That reminded me of another film, again with two versions, for which I could quote Sabrina verbatim. Ocean’s Eleven, both the 1960 and 2001 versions, are also about robberies. And in this case too, the remake features a much sleeker robbery than the original—and a happier end.
I so, so adore this film.
And that, mind you, keeping in mind the fact that I generally don’t think very highly of Hollywood musicals. I have nothing against the music, usually—most of the films had excellent songs—but what really gets my goat is that other than sounding and looking good, few of Hollywood’s musicals have anything substantial to back them up. Look at Oklahoma! or South Pacific (or even Singin’ in the Rain, for that matter): great music, nice looking leads, superb dancing—and that’s it. I can count, on my fingers, musicals that also have worthwhile plots. The Sound of Music. Fiddler on the Roof. And this, a gloriously funny and romantic story about a loony telephone operator and the man she falls in love with.
Ghadi, in Hindi, can mean either a watch (as in a wristwatch or a pocket watch), or a brief length of time. I went through a good bit of life thinking this film was about a moment in time—romantic, most probably.
So this is where I own up: enlightenment dawns, buddhoo becomes Buddha. The ghadi in Anmol Ghadi is actually a watch: a pocket watch with a fob and chain. And it plays an important part in the story of Chandra and Lata, Prakash and Basanti, the protagonists of this tale.
Two confessions, to start with. Firstly, although I am very fond of Ashok Kumar—I think he was a great actor—I find it difficult to envisage him as the dashing hero of a spy thriller. Secondly, I think 50’s and 60’s Hindi cinema (with the notable exception of Haqeeqat) never quite manages to depict war properly. Battlefields are too often obviously sets or, at the most, a bunch of extras letting off firecrackers in a patch of woodland.
So Samadhi, despite being 1950’s top-grossing Hindi film and starring the beautiful Nalini Jaywant—was a film that I approached with trepidation. Which was perhaps just as well, because if I’d begun watching it with expectations way up there, I’d probably have been disappointed. As it was, by the end, I decided it wasn’t bad; in fact, pretty watchable.
A couple of days back, a friend of mine, well aware of my obsession with old films, forwarded me a few URLs for sites where one can watch classic cinema for free. I had just begun watching Oklahoma!, and by the time I finished, I had a URL to add to my friend’s list. Yep, Sam: you missed this one: youtube, and I don’t mean a film in n number of parts. I mean the songs. Oklahoma!, for those who’d like to see it, is freely available on youtube—watch the songs in sequence, and you’re pretty much done.
Okaaay. I’m finally back from a whirlwind book tour. I gave endless interviews (I can now answer questions in my sleep); was wined and dined—great ilish in Kolkata and awesome Chettinad food in Chennai—and even ended up on youtube. I met some likeable and interesting people, including crime writer Zac O’Yeah (in conversation with me at the Bangalore do) and blogger-cum-bestselling writer Amit Varma, author of the delightful My Friend Sancho—he was in conversation with me in Mumbai and had some nice things to say about my book. And yes (I can’t resist the temptation to blow my own trumpet!), others have said good things about The Englishman’s Cameo, too: Pradeep Sebastian, writing in BusinessWorld, for instance; and Vivek Tejuja on http://www.goodreads.com.
So, having done my bit of shameless self-promotion—and wound up at exactly the place I wanted this post to go—I’ll begin with this review. Like me, the Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib was a Dilliwala. Like me, he too was a writer (and before I have Ghalib fans leaping at my throat for daring to lump the two of us together: no, I do not compare myself to the man. He was pure genius. Not so with me). And like me, Ghalib loved to hear his writing being praised.
Individually, both Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne said Love Affair was their favourite of the films they’d acted in. Quite an achievement for a film—one reason why I’d put Waterloo Bridge in the same league as Love Affair. The two stars of this film, Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh, also rated Waterloo Bridge as their favourite of all the films they’d acted in (yes, Vivien Leigh rated this higher even than Gone With the Wind!). Like Love Affair, this is also a love story. And it too takes a very tragic turn midway.
This was what I call a ‘shot in the dark’ film—I noticed it on Induna and decided I’d give it a try, even though I hadn’t heard of it before. The decision was arbitrary, and mainly because the picture of the DVD cover appealed to me. I should probably have had a look at the plot summary on imdb but I didn’t, and ended up with a film that I actually rather liked, even apart from the fact that the lead pair looked yum.
After all the lightheartedness of the past few posts, time to get back to serious stuff. I had three none-too-cheery films lined up: Khamoshi, Andaz, and this one. Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam had been popping up in some recent posts (one song was part of the daaru list, and a discussion on Jawahar Kaul—one of the leads in Dekh Kabira Roya—ended up with a general wondering of what role he played in Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam). So Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam it was, a rewatch of a memorable film with some fine performances and superb music.
Dustedoff 