Screen cap from Miss Mary (1957)… Not my favorite film among those I’ve seen lately, but it has its moments, especially in the early part, where this dialogue took place (with actors Om Prakash and Gemini Ganesan). I might write it up sometime…
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P.S. I also can relate very much to this sentiment expressed by Miss Mary herself (played by Meena Kumari):
(Also seen referred to with the alternate spellings, Sai-Subbulakshmi, Sai-Subbalaxmi, Sai-Subbalakshmi, with hyphen and without, etc.)
I’ve found them dancing twice – and I know some of you out there also enjoy these scenes…
First in “Aplam Chaplam” from Azaad (1955), with music by C. Ramchandra, vocals by Lata and Usha Mangeshkar. I like this a lot. (I’ve seen/heard a remix too, but no thanks, I’ll take this, please.)
And then they appeared a year later, in “Chori Chori” for the song “Manbhavan Ke Ghar,” with music by Shankar Jaikishan, vocals by Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle. I like this a lot too, and I loved Chori Chori (haven’t seen Azaad yet)…
They’re listed for a couple of obscure (I think) Tamil films that I can’t get videos from, and that’s about it. It looks to me as though they were a great bharatanatyam pair, and a fine dancing duo in general. Just kind of vanished, I guess…
Oh, what a marvelous domestic soap opera! Devraj, played by Balraj Sahni, is a manager at a consturction site, where he falls in love with one of the laborers, Bindiya, also known as Bindu, played by Padmini. Bindu has a younger brother, Ramu, who is a good boy, and Devraj has a younger brother, Raju, who is kind of spoiled. All of them end up in the same house together – and actually get a bigger house at some point – and then they take in their friend Chandan, the former tea seller, as their cook. All of them get a little older. Ramu becomes a very studious young man who is shy of women. Raju is a juvenile delinquent of sorts, who is also rather bold. Ramu and Raju fall in love with the same young woman, Rama, and trouble brews between them. Meanwhile, Devraj is one day approached by his step mother and step sister (whom he didn’t even know before), who beg to be taken into his house. But they don’t have the best of intentions; in fact, their aim is to do everything they can to make a big place for themselves in this household, which means influencing Devraj (who turns out to be remarkably gullible) against Bindu. Devraj’s step sister, Nandini, is especially good at this task. Meanwhile, Bindu is finding reason to doubt Devraj. Both mistakenly suspect each other of infidelity. All sorts of other gross misunderstandings happen, in part because people are urging other people not to talk about things. Bindu also feels compelled to be infuriatingly obedient toward her husband – though she somehow manages to challenge him well enough at certain times, in effective ways. Things get more messy and entangled and, by the way, Bindu has found out that she is pregnant, too. Everybody becomes tormented. People cry a lot. People are falsely accused. People threaten suicide.
And that is only part it… For a short time, I found myself growing a little impatient with all the misunderstandings, with people not talking about what was on their minds while others simply didn’t tell the truth. But when things became really dramatic, the film became irresistible.
The fine acting helps. Padmini does not get enough of a chance to dance in this film; there is only one scene in which she dances around much at all. (For some reason, we get to see more dancing from the actress who plays Rama, Vijaya Choudhury. That’s all right, but she’s not Padmini.) But Padmini does act here – a lot – and she is, of course, great. Balraj Sahni is most convincing too and also very charming much of the time (though not in the scenes where Devraj becomes enraged!).
Not surprisingly, there is also a lot of social content, especially near the end. There are good messages here about how poor people are distrusted because they are poor. A servant briefly gets unjustly accused of a theft, and she makes sure to let people know she is being discrinimated against for being poor. And when Bindu and Ramu get into a conflict with Devraj, suddenly their class origins, which seemed to have been forgotten for so long, become a big issue again. In addition, there is a lot of good commentary about injustices that women must suffer – though the villains in this film are women, too.
Iqubal Qurershi’s music is fine as always. with playback singing by Lata Mangeshkar, Mohammed Rafi, Asha Bhosle, Mukesh. The first song in the movie, “Gore Gore Hath,” is the most significant one – it’s the best, and part of it becomes repeated as a theme later on. I’ve already posted that one, though (although I followed the lead on YouTube and called it “Tane Tandane“), so here’s another very sweet number, “Dekhiye Yun” (Mukesh and Asha, I believe)…
The directors, by the way, are R. Kirshnan and S. Panju. (Don’t recall seeing this team’s work before, I’ll have to look for more of their films.) The cast is fairly substantial, with a few familiar names, including Om Prakash and Minoo Mumtaz. (Unfortunately, Minoo Mumtaz doesn’t dance here – unless I missed something. But you can’t ask for everything in one film, I guess.)
Another old Hindi movie that exceeded my expectations. Because, after listening to this incredible soundtrack as much as, if not more than, any other, and after watching the clips so many times (and already posting a few of them), I had assumed that seeing the movie couldn’t be nearly as satisfying an experience…and I was wrong. I thought this was a magnificent dark melodrama.
Many people who haven’t actually seen the whole film might think this is strictly a horror movie, and if they don’t know about what happens in the movie later on, they might assume it’s just a haunted house story combined with a reincarnation story. The fact that reincarnation was a subject in this movie is kind of impressive, because it was probably the first popular Hindi film to focus on that theme. But really, this turns out to be something a bit different from a supernatural thriller, and much more than one. What it is more than anything else is a tale about obsessive love and heartbreak. But on top of that, by the end, it’s also an ingenious crime story and courtroom drama, and it even offers a poignant comment or two about the effects of class and class-based prejudice. (As you might be able to recognize, ths film has some of the same elements as quite of few of the classic Bollywood dramas of the 50s – only it predated them.)
At this point, though, I don’t want to say more about why initial expectations might be misleading, because this one really did take me by surprise, and I hope that others might have the same experience. (So, try to stay away from all these reviews with the plot summaries – because after looking at a few now, I can tell you that there are far too many spoilers floating around!)
In addition having a good plot with satisfying surprises, Mahal features several incredibly good performances. Madhubala is remarkable in this movie, especially considering that she was 16 when this was made. (That is kind of amazing to me. I’ve seen other movies with some of the great actresses when they were at around this age, and they really did look much more their age to me. It’s hard to believe that Madhubala was not an adult when she acted in this film.) Ashok Kumar, I thought, did a fine job, even if the word is that he was overshadowed by Madhubala. And I, at least, thought that Vyjayalaxmi was excellent; it’s too bad her performance in this movie is not so well known (from what I can tell), once again probably because everyone who saw this was so taken with Madhubala.
Kamal Amrohi did some impressive directing and writing here; you might say that this showcased his talents at bringing out deep gloom many years before he directed Pakeezah. And I greatly enjoyed the look of the whole film; this beautiful darkness pervaded everywhere.
I guess I’ve already said enough about this soundtrack by Khemchand Prakash, but, on the other hand, maybe I just can’t say enough… In addition to being quite moving, the music has a very timeless, atmospheric quality that makes it stand apart from most old filmi soundtracks. But that atmospheric music wouldn’t be so impressive if it weren’t complemented by such great, dramatic female vocals. This soundtrack contains very good performances by a few women – I’ve already mentioned enjoying the singing of Rajkumari and Zohrabai in the song “Ye Raat Phir Na Aayegi”… But of course, the singer whose work really stands out with this movie, and lingers with you long after it’s over, is the other woman who made her breakthrough here…
Because if this was anyone’s movie more than anyone else’s, even more than Madhubala’s, it was Lata’s.
Or I guess Shashi Kapoor dreams of Ragini. This is a sweet one. If I ever become a hallucinating drunk, this is the kind of hallucination I’d like to have. Song is “Phir Aane Lagaa Yaad…” (listed with a longer title in some places), from the movie Yeh Dil Kisko Doon (1963). Great music by Iqbal Qureshi, vocals by Mohammed Rafi and Usha Khanna. Great dancing by Ragini!
I’m having a hard time finding out more about this movie but, still, I’ll have to find it sometime.
This is Kamala Lakshman back when she was known as Kumari Kamala or Baby Kamala – at age 12 or 13 – dancing in the song “Gandhi Mahan” in the film Nam Iruvar. It’s very cute but also very interesting. First of all, though this may not be a big, dramatic kind of dance, it is still excellent. Look at the way she moves her arms – how does she do that?
This film is also significant as a patriotic statement in the year of India’s independence. (If only I’d had a chance to post this back in August…) Moreover, it was a major contributor to the explosion of interest in bharatanatyam, years before anyone would hear about the Travancore Sisters or Vyjayanthimala.
There are some interesting comments to that effect, first, in an article that I’ve referred to before, at Tamilnation.org (which is actually an excerpt from an article that appeared in The Hindu):
…Kamala’s dances not only proved to be the highlights of the film but also created film and cultural history.
Kamala also had two songs and dance items with lyrics written about Mahatma Gandhi, “Karuna murthy Gandhi Mahatma… !” and “Mahan… Gandhi… Mahan!” The songs were rendered off screen by the “baby-voiced” playback singer M.R. Rajeswari.
Nam Iruvar (1947) was a thumping success and Kamala’s dance ushered in a cultural revolution in the Tamil-speaking areas of the old Madras Presidency. Dance schools sprouted all over and Bharathanatyam acquired respectability
The film is remembered for the wonderful dance performances of Baby Kamala who has since become a legend. It is also remembered as the first film produced under the banner of AVM Productions. Following the success of the film, AVM moved his studio from Karaikudi to Kodambakkam in Chennai. Nam Iruvar was also the last film directed by A. V. Meiyappan and extensively portrayed the hopes and aspirations of a nation on the brink of independence.
She is not credited in this clip, and she looked a bit different to me at first (maybe because, there’s no bharatanatyam makeup or fancy jewelry, and she’s certainly not smiling – not when the hero here is about to be hung…and it looks as though she might be doing a sort of suicide dance as well). But I do believe the dancer is Kamala Lakshman. And this dance is OMG incredible.
By the way, if you also happen to like heroic battle scenes, you get about 45 seconds of that first. This is the story of the Maruthu Brothers, who ruled the municipality of Sivagangai in the last quarter of the 18th Century. They fought the British and were executed in 1801.
The film was directed by K. Shankar, produced and written by Kannadasan.
Now, Do Ustad was a lot of fun! And as with a few other movies that I’ve seen, my favorite things about this were the music and the leading actress. The music is by O.P. Nayyar – and this one has some real, classic, signature O.P. Nayyar tunes, sung by Mohammed Rafi and Asha Bhosle. The actress is someone I haven’t praised all that much – but a whole lot of other people sure have… So now can I? She is utterly delightful in this.
Yes, I think this was a great film for Madhubala. But Raj Kapoor is pretty good here too (though this next scene also owes a lot to Mohammed Rafi’s rock’n’roll singing and many bopping kids) …
And when they’re together…very nice!
As for the plot, well, it’s got quite a few familiar things about it… Two brothers separated as children who end up fighting with each other without knowing they’re brothers… Two brothers who also happen to have had cruel childhoods, being orphans and growing up in poverty, and being cheated and exploited, all of which hardships turned them into dacoits. (Yes, at times it is a very sad melodrama… But half of the film is also a joyous and hysterical comedy. That’s the kind of contradiction that I love about some of these old Indian films.) And one dacoit who finally turns good, mainly because of the influence of a good and beautiful woman (who also happens to be rich and be under the care of an evil uncle, who at one point tries to arrange a marriage, and posts a big reward for her capture when she runs away)… And so on… Would it be a stretch to say this is full of cliches? Even by 1959, I guess some of these plot elements were cliches. (Although I’ve seen these ideas in movies that came out later that I didn’t call cliches – but now that I’ve seen enough of these…) Nonetheless, they’re cliches that I like.
And there are some funny surprises, too… Like the character who is played by Raj Kapoor being able to con some people (including his future love interest) because he looks like the famous actor named Raj Kapoor… Especially near the beginning, there are a lot of deceptions and mishaps that result from the main characters disguising themselves as other people, sometimes of the other gender, leading to some embarrassing predicaments and strange dialogue including, even, a prescient reflection on a social issue of our time…
Now, I might add that this is the kind of zany Hindi comedy that I might not have found to be so funny or appealing in another movie, but these actors together helped to make it work for me. And all this – if I might repeat myself here – amidst the most serious melodrama, with heatrbreak, treachery, murder…and romance…and singing and dancing…
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P.S. Directed by Tara Harish – a name I don’t think I’ve seen much, if at all.
I was going to post a complete write-up of Pyaasa (in fact, I promised one weeks ago), but I’m not satisfied with what I wrote, and besides, my opinion of the film is changing with time. It’s growing on me, actually, especially some of the performances. So, I’ve decided to put the great write-up of Pyaasa off for a while – first, I’ll need to watch it again, sometime.
Right now, I just wanted to say that you should go watch this movie if you feel like watching a grim film for grim times. Actually, it is a very worthwhile movie, whether or not you’re in the mood for something grim. Plus, I agree all too much with much of Guru Dutt’s worldview as expressed here, and I can relate too well to his character sometimes. As I’ve said in reference to Shree 420 and a couple of other Indian movies, I can certainly identify with these guys in old Indian movies who have college degrees but still can’t find employment in this very flawed and crooked world. (Hey, would anybody like to bail me out?) And I can relate all too well to the disillusioned writer character, too – I swear I’ve experienced similar rejections to this character, for similar reasons, in both writing and romance.
Plus, oh yes, it seems sometimes that a whole lot of people are out to sell themselves. By this I mean, the respectable people, who’ve found a place in society. As Pyaasa shows us, the prostitutes whom everyone looks down on are probably far more moral for the most part and if you think too much about what they have to go through, it will break your heart. Especially if you’re depressed already…
(“Jine Naaz Heh Hind Par” – vocals by Mohammed Rafi, music by S.D. Burman.)
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P.S. There are good writeups of this movie at Philip’sfil-ums and Filmi Geek.
Many months ago, when this was a very different blog, when I already was watching a whole lot of clips from old Indian movies but still rarely posting them… I stumbled upon a song that really got stuck in my head at the time. I also found the scene that went along with it to be very sweet and captivating. But I wasn’t sure when I would post it to the blog (since I wasn’t posting a whole lot of Indian movie clips back then), and I forgot to store this one in any way, and I lost it.
I tried for the longest time to remember what the scene was from, and for some reason I just couldn’t find it. (These days, I would have instantly remembered more clues re. actors, singer, etc. – my education of these matters has advanced dramatically in the course of a year, mainly due to my highly obsessive Bollywood addiction. But I don’t think I remembered much of that stuff when I watched this clip back then.)
Yesterday morning, however, I got a note from one of my few regular readers out there (whose YouTube site I also used to visit frequently, back when it was up), in which he recommended the movie Teesri Kasam. So, curious, I went to see what clips out of that might be on YouTube and, lo and behold, I found the scene at last!
It is a really sweet song, isn’t it?
(Made in 1966… Vocals by Asha Bhosle (and some kids?), music director Shankar Jaikishan, actors Raj Kapoor and Waheeda Rehman, director Basu Bhattacharya.)
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