Tag Archives: Hindi cinema

Aasmaan Mahal (1965)

Posted on by

7

Blog reader Raunakjoy, commenting on Himalaya ki God Mein (which won the Filmfare Award for Best Film, outdoing films like Waqt and Haqeeqat), remarked that there were, besides these contenders for the award, also lesser-known but equally—if not more—meritorious films, like Aasmaan Mahal.

I had to admit I had never even heard of Aasmaan Mahal before, let alone watched it. Directed by Khwaja Ahmed Abbas, this film—as I discovered from a cursory look at Google search results—appears in the Limca Book of Records as one of the first Hindi films to not use sets for shooting. Also, the film won Prithviraj Kapoor an honourable mention at Karlovy Vary for his portrayal of an ageing and impoverished nawab trying desperately to hold on to the tatters of his family’s once-substantial prestige.

Continue reading →

A two-film Tapan Sinha article

Posted on by

6

… not on this blog, but here, on Learning and Creativity’s Silhouette e-magazine.

Highly acclaimed director Tapan Sinha was born on 2nd October, 1924, in Kolkata, and at the height of his career, was considered one of a quartet of top Bengali directors, along with Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, and Ritwik Ghatak. He was to make some very fine Hindi films too (including Ek Doctor ki Maut and Sagina—the latter a remake of his own Bengali work, Sagina Mahato), but it was in the realm of Bengali cinema that Tapan Sinha made a special mark, with poignant, insightful films like Kabuliwala (which, by the way, Anu from Conversations Over Chai has written about, exquisitely, here).

Khaniker Atithi, made by Tapan Sinha in 1956, was remade by him 16 years later in Hindi as Zindagi Zindagi. The two films are basically the same story, but it’s the details that make all the difference. You get a glimpse of how Sinha’s mind worked, how he tailored his film to suit two different eras, two sets of audiences with probably very different expectations from cinema.

The editors at Silhouette had asked me to contribute a piece on any of Tapan Sinha’s films for their Tapan Sinha centenary celebrations, and I’m grateful to them for giving me this opportunity: I got to see two very interesting films, always a thing of joy.

Click here to read the article.  

Sapan Suhaane (1961)

Posted on by

12

Starring Balraj Sahni and Geeta Bali. With music by Salil Choudhary.

How could I—with a well-established reputation for watching films based on a single name I like among the crew and cast—pass up this one? Balraj Sahni is a favourite, as is Geeta Bali. And Salil Choudhary is one of those rare music directors for whom I’ll watch a film (even if I could just as well just listen to a playlist of the songs online).

These three were the reason I watched Sapan Suhaane, and I’ll admit that till more than midway through the film, I was congratulating myself on having stumbled on a hidden gem. Or, if not strictly a ‘gem’, at least a film that was watchable enough. After that…

But to start at the very beginning, when we are introduced to Shankar (Balraj Sahni) and his younger brother Dilip (Chandrashekhar). Shankar and Dilip are stepbrothers, but deeply devoted to each other. Shankar has given up his own comfort, his own prospects, in order to work so that he can finance Dilip’s studies.

Continue reading →

Tumse Achha Kaun Hai (1969)

Posted on by

23

Lalita Pawar plays an ageing and very wealthy woman who employs a man (played by Shammi Kapoor) to reform her granddaughters, who are getting too wild for her liking. The man, poor and in desperate need of money to pay for the treatment of an ailing family member, takes up the offer, even though it will require him to pretend to be someone he’s not. In the process, he ends up falling in love with one of the granddaughters—much to the annoyance of the indignant grandmother.

This was the gist of the story of Professor (1962), though with one qualification: Shammi Kapoor’s Preetam in that film is initially hired just as a tutor for the younger brothers of the granddaughters; it’s only a little later that he’s also given the task of tutoring the young women. It was, as I’ve said on more than one occasion—and of course in my review of the film—a delightfully entertaining film, romantic and fun and with absolutely fabulous music.

Seven years later, Shammi Kapoor acted in another film with a somewhat similar plot. Here, in Tumse Achha Kaun Hai, he is Ashok, a musician; and Lalita Pawar plays Sarojini Devi, the very wealthy woman who approaches him with a proposition: that he take on the task of setting to rights her granddaughters, all three of whom (she feels) are a disgrace to Sarojini Devi.

Continue reading →

Sanjog (1943)

Posted on by

10

I came to this film quite by chance. Back in April, when I reviewed Jhansi ki Rani, blog reader Maitreyee Mishra, commenting on that review, asked if I’d watched any other films featuring its lead actress, Mehtab. I had had to admit that I hadn’t; in fact, it seemed that most of Mehtab’s films were nowhere to be found—at least not online. I did find one film, though: AR Kardar’s Sanjog (1943), which starred, alongside Mehtab, Noor Mohammad ‘Charlie’.

Continue reading →

Kaagaz ke Phool (1959)

Posted on by

29

That first photo, because the space beyond the screen is so dark, may not be very obvious as regards context. But this is a photo from a full-sized film theatre, where I watched the re-released Kaagaz ke Phool on July 17th. The re-release was to mark the 65th anniversary of this film, a semi-autobiographical work that was a flop when it was first released, but has gained in popularity ever since. My niece had alerted me to the fact that PVR Inox would be showing Kaagaz ke Phool across its theatres, one show a day for a week, and I knew I couldn’t miss this one. If only for the fact that I get to see precious few old films on the big screen (Hum Dono was the last I saw).

I had thought I’d probably be one of a handful (ten, at the most?) of people in the theatre, because this, after all, is an old film; and this was an afternoon show on a weekday. But to my surprise, there were actually quite a few people, and—best of all—many of them were fairly young. Heartening.

But, to get to the film.

Continue reading →

Himalaya ki God Mein (1965)

Posted on by

21

I realized the other day that there are umpteen well-known old films that I have seen but have never got around to reviewing on this blog—invariably because I had watched them before I started Dustedoff, and because there were so many ‘new’ old films to watch and write about, I never got around to rewatching stuff. It’s time to amend that, and revisit some films that perhaps should be talked about.

To begin with, Himalaya ki God Mein. Directed by Vijay Bhatt, Himalaya ki God Mein beat Haqeeqat and Waqt to win the Filmfare Best Film Award, and was a superhit. I had watched this donkey’s years ago, when it was telecast on Doordarshan. I remembered almost nothing of it except the fact that Manoj Kumar played a city doctor who relocated to the mountains to treat villagers and ended up falling in love with a village girl played by Mala Sinha. That was it. Time for a rewatch, I decided.

The film begins at night, on an aeroplane where Dr Sunil (Manoj Kumar) and his fiancée, also a doctor, Neeta (Shashikala) are travelling. Another passenger on the plane suddenly clutches his chest; Sunil examines him, diagnoses a heart problem, and asks that the plane land immediately.

Continue reading →

Aladdin aur Jaadui Chiraagh (1952)

Posted on by

12

Some weeks back, when I reviewed Police (1958), the thought that had stayed in my mind regarding Madhubala’s character—and her acting—in that film and otherwise, in the larger context of her career, was that she got sadly stereotyped. Too many people, film-makers most of all, ended up slotting her as the ravishingly beautiful woman who need only be cast for the fact that she could light up a screen like few others could. Her acting ability (which was actually very good) got overlooked far too often.

Something similar, though in a different way, happened to Meena Kumari. In Meena Kumari’s case, the ‘Tragedy Queen’ label got affixed fairly early in the actress’s career and branded her forever as the Main Chup Rahoongi type: the weepy, self-sacrificing, stoic Bhartiya naari. Despite films like Kohinoor, Azaad, Majhli Didi, Tamasha and Bandish, most people today associate Meena Kumari with ‘serious’ roles.

So, this film, which starred Meena Kumari in one of her lighter roles.

Continue reading →

Police (1958)

Posted on by

23

If you’ve been reading this blog some years, you probably know by now that I am a fan of Madhubala’s. I’ve watched most of her films (several of which I have not got around to reviewing on this blog), I’ve done lists of my favourite songs of hers, and I have waxed eloquent every now and then about how much I like her.

One of the things I dislike about much of the online (at least) raving about Madhubala is that the praise is invariably just about her beauty. How gorgeous, how exquisite. Yes, indeed; but Madhubala’s beauty, I think, often comes in the way of people appreciating what a good actress she was, too. Watch her performances in films like Mughal-e-Azam and Amar, for instance, and if you can look past her face, you will see how well she holds her own against heavyweight thespians like Dilip Kumar and Prithviraj Kapoor.

And she was a fantastic comedienne too. The madcap way she matches Kishore Kumar in Chalti ka Naam Gaadi, for example. Or her airhead character in Mr & Mrs 55. Interestingly, Madhubala is often compared to Marilyn Monroe, almost entirely on the basis of their beauty and popularity; but I think the two stars had one more thing in common: both could portray the ditzy beauty very well. This, in fact, is just the type of woman Manju, of Police, is: nutty, silly, a clown. But so endearing too (and, it goes without saying, so gorgeous).

Continue reading →

What’s named after Dara Singh?

Posted on by

15

A reblog of an old post, from when my blog was only a couple of months old.

Reblogged, because there’s an addition to this list.

After many years of thinking I knew all the obscure (and not) ways in which popular actors are immortalised in everyday objects, I had a moment of serendipity—an unexpected addition to this all-too-short list.

The other day, our gardener turned up, bringing with him a rather nice-looking plant with glossy striped green leaves. Would we like to keep it, he asked my husband. It’s a good indoor plant. We really don’t need any more indoor plants (we have plenty as it is), so we declined, but my husband asked him, out of curiosity, what it was called.

“Dara Singh ka paudha,” he said. Dara Singh’s plant.
Why on earth?
“Bahut shaktishaali hai,” he explained. “Marta nahin hai.” It’s very hardy, doesn’t die.

Later, when I had some time, I checked the plant out on Google Lens, and the penny dropped. This, to give it its botanical name, is Dracaena fragrans. Dra-caena, which has a similar set of syllables to ‘Dara Singh’, barring that g at the end. In a country where we have gardeners mangling names of plants left, right and centre (a friend has ‘begum bailiya’ flowering profusely in her home, another looks forward to pansotia at Christmastime), this is hardly unexpected.

Anyway, so we’ve said no to Dara Singh’s plant. But I’ve learnt something new in the process.

https://madhulikaliddle.com/2009/01/22/if-only-i-were-a-film-star/?page_id=677