During the past several months, I’ve had a block about watching films all the way through – or that’s how it seemed anyway. I suppose life and my mood got in the way of my making the extra effort that was needed to sit down with a whole film, and for this time, at least, it always seemed easier and more pleasurable to watch a bunch of music sequence clips instead. (In that way, I had actually gone full circle, because that is what I was doing for the most part shortly after I started this blog, five to six years ago). But last night, the trend finally changed with a movie that compelled me to sit with it to the end and almost made me want to watch it again. I had seen this one a couple of years before without subtitles and enjoyed it even back then, but since I didn’t know what most of the words meant, my attention wasn’t as well focused as it could have been. But now that I have finally watched Kismet with subtitles, I can see why so many people think it’s delightful.
Now, while I may have finally broken through my block about seeing full films, writing full reviews is another matter. At present, I don’t think I could write a full review, or at least not a properly organized one with a plot summary. Fortunately, though, there is no shortage of substantial reviews of this film in our little corner of the Blogosphere, and if you want to see a few, I recommend going to Dustedoff, Memsaabstory, and Filmi Geek.
What I can do, in pure imitation of aforementioned Dustedoff, is mention the things that I liked and (only slightly) disliked.
And the best thing about this film is Ashok Kumar. He was given a good role to play, too, but Ashok invests this character, the thief who calls himself Shekhar, with a huge amount of charm and humanity. In slightly later years, Dev Anand and Raj Kapoor would play characters with similar fates and proclivities and they would do a fine job with it. But here, Ashok Kumar plays the most likable career thief I have ever seen in the cinema. I don’t know if I’ve ever said this about an adult male actor before, but in this film, he is adorable… As is the romance between his character and Rani, who is played Mumtaz Shanti. I think “adorable” is a pretty good word for it, because it’s not portrayed in a heavy, universe-consuming way like many other romances in Hindi cinema. Some of those are very absorbing, too, but since I’d seen so many of those other (mostly later) ones first, the romance depicted here struck me as being refreshingly sweet and joyful (at least before it ran into serious obstacles).
And I like Mumtaz Shanti. I’ve seen a couple of bloggers go on about how she was too theatrical, but that didn’t bother me so much during most of the movie, and it was actually a perfect quality for her to have during the film’s climactic theater piece (albeit with someone else’s voice, but her visual performance was marvelous). Plus, she’s also adorable.
As with many old Hindi films, I loved the way Kismet blended pure, delightful entertainment with commentary on social issues, particularly with regard to poverty and the class system. Or, to get Marxist about it, the class struggle. Because that is something that is very clear, discussed in an overt way amidst the romance and the songs and dances. The socialist edge gets awfully smoothed over at the end, but it’s definitely visible throughout the film.
At the same time, the social messages never get in the way of the film’s narrative (which is very well paced), and the socially conscious lyrics by Pravi Kadeep are blended very well with music that is positively inspiring, thanks to the music director, Anil Biswas, and the playback singer Amirbai Karnataki.
Another thing that is very noteworthy about this film is the dance performance by Baby Kamala. It is terrific – probably her first great performance (and speaking of adorable!)… The only problem is that it did not go on for long enough.
Kismet was also possibly the first film to feature a few plot themes that would become Hindi film cliches. The most prominent among these is the long-lost-and-found child theme (as opposed to the long-lost-and-found sweetheart theme). Another theme is the one about trying to get one’s loved one an expensive operation that is badly needed to fix a disability. Another is the theme of the two troubled romances that get resolved in a connected way so that they result in a double wedding. Related to that, we have the badly wanted weddings prevented by at least one mean father, class prejudice, and lack of a dowry. And, of course, there is the theme of the thief who is really just a nice guy with a bad childhood, whose niceness comes out in a big way when he falls in love with a woman who inspires him to stop being a thief. (OK, maybe I’ve just combined two or three themes – but it is hard to separate them.)
I found Kismet‘s use of all these themes to be both good and bad. It seemed bad in a way because, since I had already seen so many films that came out later, I found so much of the plot to be predictable far in advance. (That’s why I didn’t hesitate to write a few descriptions related to the plot that might normally be considered spoilers – because if you’ve seen a few Hindi films before, then you’d have to be lacking half a brain not to guess what’s going to happen here.) But it all starts to look very good when you realize that so many films probably imitated Kismet in some way and not the other way around. And Kismet covered all of this territory very nicely, too.
Unfortunately, all of these twists of plot get wrapped up a little too neatly and comfortably at the end. It’s kind of fun to watch the film end the way it does; it certainly is not an unpleasant or dreary experience. And once again, you can’t blame Kismet (1943!) if you think that the ending looks a bit formulaic. But it does still seem like a speeded-up wrap-up, which is something else I’ve seen in a few films that came later. Nonetheless, this is a finely made film with some very good acting, great music, good social messages, and adorable characters. And that is why it broke through my movie-watching block so easily.
Yes, this is an absorbing film, isn’t it? I’m not surprised it help get you rid of that block. :-) Such a pity that the remake of Kismet (the Shammi Kapoor-Madhubala starrer Boyfriend) turned out to be such a dud, despite fairly good music. I believe Shammi Kapoor had been really keen on making the movie, since he adored Kismet and had seen it around a dozen times or so.
P.S. Thank you for the link to my review, Richard!
Madhu, you’re welcome re. the link and thank you for inspiring me with the “what I liked/what I didn’t like” format. :)
Also, thank you for the information regarding Boyfriend. I never saw that film (although I did see some of the songs from it) and I never knew that it was a remake of Kismet. It may be that this is common knowledge, too(?). It may even be that you’ve mentioned this somewhere already and I forgot. Oh, well…
When I wrote about films that Kismet influenced, I didn’t think of Shammi Kapor, but, rather, his older brother, in Awara, Raj is quite a remake of Shekhar in that one – albeit a much heavier version. :)
I think Greta may have mentioned Boyfriend being a remake of Kismet on her blog, when she reviewed Boyfriend. I’m not sure, though. I happened to watch Boyfriend not long after I’d seen Kismet, and was rather taken aback by how faithful they’d been to the original story.
Richard,
I saw the movie so long ago I have forgotten its story. What remains in memory is its wonderful music by Anil Biswas. About this being the first lost-and-found-child theme, ‘Taqdeer’, Nargis’s debut film by Mehboob Khan had double lost and found – both Motilal and Nargis are lost in childhood – you guessed where – in Kumbh Mela! They are raised by each other’s parents – must have been copied in many films later. They grow to be sweethearts. ‘Taqdeer’ is also from 1943, so it is difficult to say which came first. To give another twist, which even Manmohan Desai could not have thought of, Motilal is raised as a girl, Shyama, as his foster mother knew she had given birth to a daughter. When she was lost, the husband brought whichever another lost child he could get in the mela, who happened to be a boy. Therefore, he had to pretend it was a girl to comfort his wife. This was not funny, but so what.
AK
AK, thank you for the information about Taqdeer, You have added to the list of reasons why I’d like to see that film sometime (preferably with English subtitles). But I am not the only one who says that Kismet was the first film with the lost-and-found theme. There is an article circulated by Memsaabstory and Filmi Geek that also claims that Kismet was the film where this theme originated. I had only briefly glanced at this article before, but I wanted to take another, closer look at it before answering your comment — which I have done now. The article, by Roshmila Bhattacharya, originated at Screen magazine and can be found here:
https://memsaabstory.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/kismet_1943.pdf
And it says:
The lost-and-found formula that was exploited to the hilt by Manmohan Desai also had its genesis in this crime thriller. In the years since children have, time and again, been separated from their parents by natural calamities like floods and earthquakes, kidnapped by disgruntled servants or vengeful dacoits (Suhaag) or lost in a mela. And then miraculously reunited during a tearful climax with lockets, tattoos and songs providing the key to lost identities.
Maybe this writer (and many others) don’t know about Taqdeer, or maybe Taqdeer came much later in that year. :)
Richard,
Nothing can be said definitely about the chronological sequence of the two films unless we know their dates of certification or release. In any case, this is purely of academic interest. I have seen both the films. ‘Kismat’ is very sophisticated, and no harm if ‘lost-and-found’ formula is credited to it even if it might have come later than ‘Taqdeer’. However, the latter also may be credited with several themes that became path breaking – double lost and found brought up in reciprocal homes, nature versus nurture debate, love affair between the poor and the rich, between a person of respectable legal family and another from the ‘lowly’ world of theatre.
The possibility of being unaware of ‘Taqdeer’ may not be ruled out. It would be an interesting research to trace the first origin of different clichés of Hindi films. Lack of awareness of the early history of films is very endemic, and common misconceptions abound. One such is the debut song of Mukesh. This is very confidently credited by even creditable sources to ‘Dil jalta hai to jalne de’ from ‘Pahli Nazar’ (1945), whereas his debut was four years earlier in ‘Nirdosh’ (1941) – ‘Dil hi bujha hua hai to’. This one is not excusable, but less clear is who was the first female music director? Saraswati Devi or Jaddan Bai (Nargis’s mother) or yet a third person?
But I must say, Roshmila Bhattacharya’s article is wonderful. Especially interesting is the insight about the internecine war within the Bombay Talikes. Thanks for sharing it.
Kismet was released in January 1943, so its likely that it preceded Taqdeer. Even if it didn’t, the release should have been a few days apart, which means that the lost & found theme occurring in both movies could have been a mere coincidence.