Great singing by Asha, music by Naushad, film directed by Harnam Singh Rawail. This was a fairly good movie, IMO. The drama and plot did not make this one of my all-time favorite movies, but it often was excellent to look at and the music was very nice. And, most importantly, there was the cast! The best thing about this film was its central triangle: Dilip Kumar, Balraj Sahnee and Vyjayanthimala all together – you can’t beat that. I thought Vyjayanthi danced great here as always; I just wish she could have done more dancing, like in some of her earlier films. But her acting was fine, too, especially when she cried – she was one of Bollywood’s best criers, I think.
Balraj was a little different in this movie from in others that I’d seen, because it’s the first time I’ve seen his character get really nasty. This guy actually goes and tortures people (especially one poor fellow named Bhim (Ulhas) who just seems destined to be tortured and suffer a miserable death). But somehow – and not unexpectedly – Balraj Sahni still turns out looking noble in the end.
Dilip did the usual good job of playing a guy who was anguished and all torn up inside by certain traditions and turns of fate that he really would rather not have been part of, if only he’d been given a choice.
The story… Well it’s a family feud, somewhat connected to people’s religion and traditions. They’re all different kinds of Hindu, more or less, but it’s pretty obviously an allegory for the relationship between a couple of countries – need I say more?
Buried in all this, there’s some interesting stuff about the Thuggee cult. Actually, I would have liked to see a little more explanation of that.
While I was searching and surfing around, I found this comment on an old thread at the Zulmnet forum , and it just cracked me up:
There is no way to prove to you that I’m a white American guy, but I can share an experience I had with Tamil DVD searching – I live in NYC and if I don’t order Indian movies online, I go to Jackson Heights Queens (Little India) to buy them, which is a 45 minute ride from Manhattan. For some reason, when I had looked for Tamil DVDs in Jackson Heights, all the DVD shopkeepers look at me as if im crazy, because no one carries Tamil DVDs. I see Tamil and Bollywood DVDs pretty related. But I guess that Jackson Heights is an extension of Northern India… So I get advice where to find Tamil DVDs and that is in Flushing, Queens, even further away than Jackson Heights. I’m told of some store on some side street a mile away from the subway. I finally find it and it’s more of a wholesale-looking store than a typical store someone is supposed to go in. And I’m looking around the store and start asking for a couple Tamil DVDs I’m looking for…after a while of browsing, the store keeper finally asks me, “Are you doing this for a school project?” In the back of his mind, I could see his true question “Why the f*** is a white man looking for Tamil movies on DVD in the middle of nowhere?” I tell him, “no, I like Bollywood/Tamil movies.” And the usual question I get then is “Do you understand hindi/tamil? Is that why you are looking?” It’s just funny because there is no way that they can understand a white person searching and asking for certain movies from India/South India… It’s as if they understand that their movies suck and have no understanding of some foreigner looking for their homeland movies… I love the reactions and the stares I get going in those stores…
Now, I have had similar experiences re. buying Indian DVDs in Jackson Heights, with some small differences…
1. I don’t have to travel for 45 minutes to get to the Indian DVD stores in Jackson Heights because they’re about five to seven very short blocks away for me now. (But if I lived, say, in Manhattan I would go to “Curry Hill,” around 28th Street and Lexington Avenue, first. As I’ve said before, sometimes it’s actually nicer – or at least more relaxing – going into those places than to most of the stores near me. Plus, if one is feeling awkward about being a “white person” looking for Indian DVDs, I think they get more gora in those stores. The first time I went into the one right on Lex, there was a group of about half a dozen European tourists milling around.)
2. I haven’t really asked anyone in these Jackson Heights stores for Tamil DVDs because I can see most don’t carry them, and the ones that do have them squashed in some corner alongside Telugu and Malayalam DVDs, on shelves one-twentieth the size of the shelves for the Hindi DVDs. There are a couple of stores where I’ve actually seen fuller selections of Bangla DVDs and Punjabi DVDs… I would agree with the assessment that Jackson Heights is more of an extension of Northern India – and Pakistan and Bangladesh – than of South India.
I know what that guy means about the stares that people give you and comments you get, and it has made me feel a bit awkward sometimes. But I don’t have to worry about that in a couple of DVD stores in Jackson Heights where the guys at the counter (and in one case, the girl at the counter) have realized that I know more about the classic Bollywood movies than they do. I still sometimes encounter the attitude that this guy talks about in other places, especially in the smaller stores. Though I probably encounter it less from the shopkeepers than from an occasional other customer.
I did not get this attitude in that store in Flushing. Assuming it’s the same store. (And I didn’t see any others around that would carry these movies, in this area where the vast majority of shops are Chinese, not Indian. Though there is a possibility that he was talking about another store, since this was not a mile from the subway; in fact, it was less than ten blocks. But I suspect he was exaggerating that part.)
The guy working there didn’t act at all puzzled or surprised when I asked for the Tamil movies; in fact, he didn’t even ask if I wanted any help picking something out. Maybe it was a different guy from the one that the other “white man” mentioned on the forum. Or maybe after that other guy visited a few times, this shopkeeper got used to the sight of an obviously non-Indian person coming in for Tamil videos. It also happened to be the day after A.R. Rahman won some big Hollywood award, so maybe there were quite a few non-Indian people walking around on this day looking for Tamil films and music.
He did mention to me, since I had asked for “old Tamil movies,” that they didn’t have anything “very old,” which is true. Unfortunately, I didn’t spot any titles I knew from the classics of the 1950s and ’60s. I might go back, though, when I can think of a few titles that I’d like to buy from a slightly later period, because there were quite a few of these.
The store also had a very tempting supply of Golden Age Hindi DVDs for $5. The selection here was interesting, because the companies were different for the most part from the ones that generally supply the DVDs I’ve been finding for $5 in Jackson Heights. This might be a worthwhile place to go apart from the places I’ve been frequenting in Jackson Heights, just for Bollywood DVDs.
Unfortunately, when I visited that store, I didn’t have much money in my pocket. I’d actually wandered over there because I happened to be in Flushing after being summoned to the Department of Labor. I could have gone to an ATM machine and taken out more cash, but that would have cost me extra bank fees, too. And I wasn’t feeling that inclined to be spending extra cash, because there’s a reason I had been visiting the Department of Labor.
But sometime in the near future, I think, I’ll be heading back there. (I know where it is by sight, though unfortunately, I didn’t take down the address for reference here. But I can tell you, go past the subway, going down hill, turn left around the corner, and up the next hill a few blocks – if that helps.)
This movie is quite a treat at times. To start with, outside of Bindiya, I can’t think of another movie that featured such beautiful women playing construction laborers. In addition, Insaan Jaag Utha is just a fun, well-put-together crime drama combined with romance combined with message film about ethics and Indian patriotism. And, I guess I should add, also a semi-film-noir piece, which is not surprising, given that it was directed by Shakti Samanta, the guy who’d just done Howrah Bridge a year earlier.
The film does have many of the usual elements of noir crime drama in the plot, especially near the beginning. It begins when the hero/anti-hero, Ranjit, played by Sunil Dutt, gets out of jail and heads back to the village where this movie takes place in order to dig up some gold that he buried. But though he may be kind of a criminal, that’s only because of one “misstep” he took, and even that crime was mostly inadvertent. (Although he is obviously continuing on the path of the crime now, but even that might change. A few things change, and are revealed, in connection with why this gold was buried and where it might be going, but there’s no need to get more into that here since I don’t like writing spoilers.)
In many parts, Sunil Dutt’s character reminded me of a few old Dev Anand roles. Maybe it’s because he is somewhat the same type – an actually very good guy looked upon by some people as a bad guy. Or maybe it’s because he does some of those typical Dev character good deeds for his fellow human beings – like when he briefly becomes a workers’ champion, speaking up for laborers who have been cheated. It could be because, on top of all that, he gets to romance Madhubala.
Or, is it just because of the way that he dresses?
No matter… Sunil does still contribute his own unique touch to this role. To me, he – or Ranjit, as Sunil plays him – seems to be a bit softer and less edgy right from the start than even the nicest of the not-really criminals in those other movies. Of course, it helps that almost the first person Ranjit sees in town is this very righteous woman – who also happens to be beautiful – who lives in a house right near the spot where the gold is buried.
Madhubala is great – as you would expect – playing the good girl whose love reforms the hero. But her character, Gauri, is not just a good woman on a personal level; she can be the ideal citizen, encouraging everyone around her to work hard to build up their community and their country. And the first song in which she does that is encouraging, indeed. Once you listen to this song, with that really upbeat music by S.D. Burman and those triumphant-sounding vocals by Asha Bhosle (not to mention the glorious entry in the latter part by Mohammed Rafi), it’s going to be difficult not to play it again a couple of times. And if you’re slacking off when you should be working, maybe it’s just the song to get you up and moving.
Admittedly, sometimes, you might just have to suspend a little contemporary cynicism in order to get fully into the spirit of the movie. Moreover, the project championed in this movie as the great savior of the people would probably not be looked upon in such a fond light – at least not unanimously – in the present day. They are building a big dam, after all. If they were building this dam today, there would probably be plenty of critics talking about how it will wreck many communites. Arundhati Roy would be writing a bunch of articles on it and I would probably be very convinced by them. But this dam is being built back in 1959, and it works great in the plot, so I don’t think any viewers should have a problem with it.
Anyway, all that praise of honest, hard work was OK with me, especially when I knew that Ranjit would stand up for the workers when they were being cheated. (That part of the plot actually goes by a bit too fast, and I found it confusing at first, but this is what I gathered: The workers are cheated by a contractor who’s involved with the villains of the film. He accuses the workers of not cutting enough stones and deducts money from their pay because of it, but actually, some stones are being smuggled away and sold at night. Ranjit exposes the scheme, the contractor is booted, and the contract goes to the government.)
I did find Insaan Jaag Utha a little heavy-handed with the patriotism; it almost made those patriotic moments in Raj Kappor’s old movies look subtle by comparison. But even though I’m the sort of person who recoils somewhat at nationalism of any kind, I make extra allowances for these movies made in India right after the nation’s hard-fought independence. Besides, as people who’ve been visiting this blog must know by now, I enjoy these ’50s Indian movies for other political elements. And Insaan Jaag Utha certainly doesn’t fall short in sticking up for the proletariat.
There’s also a lot of charming interaction among some of the characters. It is a lot of fun, for instance, to watch the mutual teasing between Gauri and her freind and co-worker Muniya, who is played by Minoo Mumtaz. The object of the teasing is simple enough – Muniya knows about Gauri’s developing romance and Gauri kind of knows about Muniya’s romance, too. But they still both get a lot of mileage out of this. The song “Janu Janu Re Chhupke Kaun Aaya” marks the peak of that banter between them, with sweet and funny lines being sung by Asha Bhosle and Geeta Dutt.
I might add that I love the visuals in this scene. I think I’ve mentioned already (when I posted this song once before) how much I appreciated the contrast between these women in their traditionally feminine garb and that big, ugly industrial equipment behind them. Additionally, I appreciate all the playful touches in the lighting. For instance, it’s great how in the beginning Minoo Mumtaz is kept completely in the shadow. (At first I imagined this as a sort of answer to the famous scene from Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (“screen-capped” in the present image header) in which Minoo Mumtaz is in the light and her chorus of dancers are in shadow. But then I realized that Insaan Jaag Utha came out a few years earlier – which is also kind of interesting…)
And in case anybody hasn’t guessed this yet, let me add that I’ve really fallen for Minoo. I think she’s up there in my top five or so… She’s got to be the most underrated dancer/actress from the Golden Age, at least in Hindi movies. I mean, how come you can’t even find information about her on the Internet except for some reference in a post about her brother, Mehmood? As far as I’m concerned, if we can get good info about only one of those siblings, then it should be the other way around.
Minoo Mumtaz has a pleasingly substantial role in this movie, but she does sort of fade out during the second half. A good chunk of the latter part of the movie is devoted directly to the romancing between Ranjit and Gauri, which is perfectly OK – especially when it’s time for a song, because in addition to getting Sunil Dutt and Madhubala, we get Mohammed Rafi and Asha Bhosle.
Then there is a lot of time devoted to this group of bad people who are after the gold (and therefore after Ranjit). I found the bad guys in the movie to be a bit dull and predictable (no memorable villiains here!). The only time things get interesting with them is when they recruit the assistance of an old acquaintance (of theirs, Ranjit’s and lots of people’s) who is sort of a bad woman – though not really that bad a woman. This woman is a dancer, by the way (played by Nishi), so she also contributes some pretty good cabaret scenes.
Unfortunately, the final stretch of the movie, with its extended chase and fight scenes, didn’t grab me much. (It’s just not like the fantastic final chase in Howrah Bridge.) If there is one thing I do like in this final stretch, it’s the major part taken by the old man Laxmandas (Nasir Hussain), who is Gauri’s father. He’s an old independence fighter who fought pretty hard and did some time himself, and maybe that’s why he’s able to give a couple of the villains a good whacking with his cane without completely keeling over. In fact, I was quite happy that for once I got to see an old Hindi crime drama in which the secondary character who happens to be an old guy doesn’t meet a tragic end. On the other hand, it’s too bad about the not-so-bad woman who’s a cabaret dancer. And I don’t think I spoiled something there, given that that outcome is all too predictable.
Overall, as I said, this movie is quite a treat, at least sometimes…if not always. I do think the first two thirds or so are better than the final part. And as with many of these movies, the general movie, with its plot, etc., may not be as good as the songs that it features. But that’s because the songs are very, very good. And the performers in these songs – as in much of the rest of the movie – are just a joy to watch.
Probably, I don’t even need to add this but… Especially Madhubala and Minoo Mumtaz.
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P.S. I didn’t buy this, I found it at Tommydan1’s site on Veoh. Tom was the guy, actually, who first tipped me off about this movie and some of the songs within it, a while back. Once again, if you want to watch the whole thing at Veoh, you have to register and download their player.
The YouTube clips for this post have been coming from various sources: First they came from Ajit45555, then he got suspended from YouTube; then I got them from Tommydan1’s YouTube site, which had just come back after one of its periods of suspension; then, sometime after Tom got suspended yet again, I was able to get them from Amitajai. (Fortunately, there are quite a few people on YouTube who appreciate this film.)
Oh, handsome, accept the sweetness of this beauty
I’ll take you to unseen, unheard world of happiness
Get up, let’s go to some lonely, secluded place
Come to me to quench the desire with the flow of happiness
Doing yoga or renunciation is sour, only love is sweet.
I had stuff playing from my computer into my headphones for a while. I’d put Aashiq on, but I’d completely forgotten which soundtrack followed it. Then I heard this song, and I thought, that is really nice, what’s that from? Of course…
(“Tumhen Yaad Karte Karte” from Amrapali (1966) – Lata Mangeshkar on Vyjayanthimala, music by Shankar Jaikishan.)
One of the finest by Helen and Cuckoo… Helen’s famous dancing eyebrows are particularly active in this one. I also love the music, by S.D. Burman, with vocals by Asha Bhosle and Sudha Malhotra. The movie, Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi, was a sweet and genuinely funny comedy-and-suspense film directed by Satyan Bose, with great performances throughout by Madhubala, no less than three Kumar brothers (Kishore, Ashok and Anoop) and K.N. Singh. (I just watched it one over at Tommydan1.)
This is from the film Quaidee(1962). The title of the song/poem means, “Don’t Ask Me for That Love Again.” Between poem, voice, and image, this scene should make many eyes well up with tears.
Most of this song was shown in one of the Noor Jehan interview clips that I posted last time, but I decided to post the more complete version and give it some of the extra attention that it deserves.
After doing a short search, I found a substantial article about this poem posted the blog Progressive Scottish Muslims, taking it from a site called 21st Century Socialism. The article, written by Simon Korner, is good for a few different reasons.
First of all, it offers an alternative translation of the song, with extra lines that you don’t see in the subtitles, which make the points more clear. It might be that the alternative translation would have been a little too strong – politically and graphically – to put in the movie scene, but I think it makes for a stronger poem in the literary sense, too – especially in these lines:
All this I’d thought, all this I’d believed.
But there were other sorrows, comforts other than love.
The rich had cast their spell on history:
dark centuries had been embroidered on brocades and silks.
Bitter threads began to unravel before me
as I went into alleys and in open markets
saw bodies plastered with ash, bathed in blood.
I saw them sold and bought, again and again.
This too deserves attention. I can’t help but look back
when I return from those alleys – what should one do?
And you are still so ravishing – what should I do?
There are other sorrows in this world,
comforts other than love.
Don’t ask me, my love, for that love again.
Korner also offers a good interpretation afterwards:
It isn’t that he scorns love but that he understands that it can’t exist in isolation from the world. The phrase “comforts other than love” suggests the joys of political struggle and comradeship, as though these could be a different, wider form of love. In that repetition of “my love” in the final line, Faiz nevertheless re-emphasises how difficult it is to leave behind his former bliss…
And, for those who don’t know much about Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Korner gives us a nice introduction, too:
Just as the poetry of Pablo Neruda was massively popular with ordinary Chileans – who regarded him as their national poet – so Faiz Ahmed Faiz was loved by millions of Pakistanis, who knew his poems by heart. His funeral in 1984 was a day of mourning for the whole country, and many Faiz poems have been set to music and are still widely sung.
Faiz, a Communist like Neruda, was born in British India in 1911, the son of a lawyer. He joined the newly formed Progressive Writers’ Movement in the 1930s, served in the Indian Army during the Second World War, becoming a Lieutenant Colonel, and after Partition – which he condemned – moved to Pakistan, where he became editor of the Pakistan Times, an English-language daily. He also worked as managing editor of the Urdu daily Imroz, and was actively involved in organising trade unions.
I found it very interesting when I learned that Noor Jehan had stood up for her right to recite Faiz’s poems when the government had banned them, that she and Faiz formed a good friendship afterwards, and that she became something of a champion of his work (and he of hers, as well, to an extent). I don’t know much about the other stances/positions she might have taken in her life, but that bit of information, at least, has caused me to like her even more.
And by the way, there is a British documentary on Faiz Ahmed Faiz at Google. I have seen about half of it so far and hope to return to it soon. Admittedly, the presentation is sometimes a little dry and boring (as one would expect from a British documentary involving interviews with academics), but the compelling subject matter and the slices of Faiz’s poetry more than compensate for that.
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