Main Nashe Mein Hoon (1959)

Main Nashe Mein Hoon (I Am Drunk, or MNMH) is a strange, funny, masala film, made about fifteen years too early, and featuring not one but three - three! - paeons to drinking. Now who doesn't love a good drunken song? Or three?! The PPCC is a big fan, and now we've got to add Raj Kapoor as an honorary participant in the Drunk Off!!. This film also featured the one thing they don't do enough of in Hindi films: the female villain, played here by the stunning Nishi. She is just a joy to watch: strong, gorgeous, business-like and EVIL. We have decided when we make it in Bollywood it's going to be as the modern-day her!


The foolish Ram (Raj Kapoor) getting his butt kicked by the villainous Miss Rita (Nishi). Also, incidentally, one of our favorite songs from the film, not available on YouTube but very similar to Raj Kapoor's brother, Shashi Kapoor's Jane Mujhe Tu Ne from the later Naina.

We at the PPCC tend to shoehorn Hindi films about drinking into either the Devdas box, the Sufi box or, more rarely, the Dionysus box. Yet we can't do that for MNMH, since it neither glamorizes drinking nor uses it as a vehicle for transcendental sadness. If anything, drinking is just portrayed as embarrassing, and our increasingly alcoholic anti-hero, Ram (Raj Kapoor), is a carefree, caddish idiot. He doesn't choose to drink because of some past lost love, but is instead just peer pressured again and again via the dealbreaking, "What are you? A baby?!" When drunk, he doesn't deliver poetic soliloquys full of existential angst a la Dilip Kumar; instead, he just becomes even more babbling, incomprehensible and childish (who would've thought that was even possible!). He also has a number of face-first falls which looked like they really hurt! The whole thing was a strange combination of humor and cringe-worthy pathos.


Whoa, easy on the Vat 69, RK...


The PPCC wants to be the Nishi of the new millennium!

The reason the drinking is important to the story - as this isn't supposed to be a film where we laugh at an idiot, though we often did - is two-fold. On the one hand, we have the scary, emancipated Miss Rita (Nishi) who has decided to seek vengeance on Ram's father, the severe Judge Kundanlal (Mubarak), by corrupting his prized eldest son. Cunning! Evil! Anyway, Miss Rita - a super-singleton and owner of the aptly-named Wonderful Club - speedily ruins Ram's rep by getting him hammered at a picnic, seducing him and getting him addicted to her and booze. From then on, an entranced Ram becomes a Wonderful Club regular.

Apart from just how embarrassing it is for Ram's father to see his son turn into Captain Stupid every night, there's also a poignant family history (and this is the second interesting plot device): Ram's grandfather, Dharam Das (Nasir Hussain), was an alcoholic who, during one of his drunken evenings, killed a dancer and her lover in a fit of jealous rage. Dharam Das went to jail and the entire family was shamed. Judge Kundanlal, whose entire life seems to be a reaction against the vices of his father, understandably fears that some of that behavior could be passed down to his son. Then - in an early surprise - Dharam Das is released from jail as a kindly, frail old man. Trying to reconcile the reeling, demonized Dharam Das of yore with the gentle, sad little man in the present is pretty difficult - for the PPCC and, it will turn out, for Judge Kundanlal. And it's interesting for a Hindi film to spend so much time humanizing a murderous alcoholic. But there you go: the present-day Dharam Das is positively saintly!


Nasir Hussain as the reformed grandfather, in one of his more typical poses.

Which brings us to the most interesting theme of MNMH: forgiveness. Usually drinking too much liquor and slapping your elders pretty much assures your death in a more mainstream Hindi film. Yet MNMH's treatment of alcoholism is not as a symbol of evil, but as a symbol of frailty; something that has embarrassing and occasionally destructive consequences. The two alcoholics in the film - Dharam Das and Ram - aren't demonized at all. Rather the only evil person is Miss Rita - who barely touches the stuff. Judge Kundanlal's rigid, zero-tolerance attitude - which is more in line with typical filmi morality - is upended as he eventually realizes that he loves and accepts his highly flawed father and son, despite all their imperfections. Tellingly, there's even a little subplot about the family's slightly evil servant, Munshi (Dhumal), who is also - after a particularly egregious fault - forgiven.

Basically, this film felt a lot more liberal than the more conservative Hindi films of that era - and its zany envelope-pushing filmmaking predated even crazy Manmohan Desai (you'll have to keep an eye open for some of those weird George Lucas-esque cuts!). And even better - the women rocked! For example, there was a bold, unexpected sequence when Ram's childhood love, the pure and kind-hearted Shanta (Mala Sinha), teams up with Grandpa Dharam Das to save Ram from the evil Miss Rita's clutches. Their plan includes transvestism and a jealousy-inducing courtship with strong homoerotic undertones: between several women!


Transvestism! Lesbian undertones! Shocking!

The film also has an interesting meta twist, in that Raj Kapoor (and his brothers and sons) was notorious for hard drinking (and hard eating). While most of his drunken scenes are over-the-top and quite funny ham-fests (pratfalls, high-pitched shrieks), the more understated moments were the hardest to watch: they just seemed a little too real. A thing we like about Raj Kapoor was his ability to project vulnerable intensity - both of his characters (the infamous moment when Raju slaps Rita in Awaara) and of himself as a performer (those self-obsessed performances that always tried so hard!). In this film, for once, the imperfections and vulnerability were difficult to watch: he ranged from ridiculous when over-the-top (the "look, I'm a baby! waah, waah!" moment was spork-inducing awful) to painful when understated (the poignant title song). That's not to say it's a bad performance (okay, sometimes it is, but sometimes it also isn't), it's just a thankless role with uncomfortable meta implications.


Raj in a rare moment of understated acting (his best!), kicking it a little too real.

Altogether this was a unique, enjoyable find: quirky story, novel themes of tolerance/rehabilitation rather than demonization, wonderful villain, incredibly fast pacing (bam-bam-BAM!) and fun songs. Like that Frank Sinatra movie where he's an alcoholic comedian who regularly bombs shows and humiliates himself, we found ourselves cringing through a lot of this film, but, well, like the Frank Sinatra movie, we also really liked it. The story was fun, interesting and well-told: pure, crazy masala. And there was a quality of sympathy and a rare tolerance for unromanticized weakness that was refreshing. But hey - whoa, new neural pathway: Frank Sinatra and Raj Kapoor!

Dulha Dulhan (1964)

Dulha Dulhan (Groom Bride) is a sweet little film that doesn't aspire to much and generally succeeds. It is pure vanilla: a straightforward take on the old school Memory Loss Romance, with several pretty songs, pretty actors (although Raj Kapoor was, by then, going a bit blobby) and pretty moments. It is the oft-elusive "nice" movie: something almost everyone will probably like, at least a little. Vanilla is, after all, the most purchased ice cream flavor!

This may make it sound bland, and in a way, it is. But it's a... nice sort of bland, a mashed potato sort of bland, even - at times - a poignant Morandi painting sort of bland. It's a humanistic, non-demanding comfort movie for the jaded PPCC reviewer's soul. And anyway - we love Raj Kapoor.


The bromance is strong in these two.


And the trio has great chemistry as well.

The story is simple. In a working class chawl somewhere in Bombay, two buddies - Raj (Raj Kapoor) and Bansi (Agha) - struggle to make ends meet. Raj is the sensitive, poetic one who, of course, is a struggling playback singer, while Bansi is loud, boisterous and working nights on the movie sets. (There's a funny implicit commentary on the inefficient, haphazard way movies are made in Bombay, as Bansi is more often coming home from cancelled shoots than anything else! And there's even a surreal Shammi Kapoor reference!) One day, the boys get a letter from Raj's friend, alerting them that the friend's daughter will be visiting Bombay and could they show her around, yadda yadda.

When Raj goes to the train station to pick her up, he sees that she is the beautiful, bewildered Rekha (Sadhana). Although Raj is anxious to get rid of her and put her up in a decent hotel, lest people talk, he eventually gives in and lets her stay with them. Eventually, her wide-eyed, Bambi-esque naive good humor wins over even his (relatively) more cynical urban bad attitude, and they fall in love. Marriage, sweetness, memory loss and emo ensue.


A cute moment.


Another cute, intimate moment. Awww!

There were a number of sweet little grace notes in this film, and the vibe throughout is one of gentle good humor. Even the latter half, which falls into the usual old school emo and made us wonder if tragedy king Dilip Kumar would have been better suited, was never really that dramatic. When a despairing Raj proclaims he's going to go wander around India and wallow and don't try to find him, we weren't that surprised to see that he was actually just down the street, moping but remembering to shave. Or maybe we've just gotten used to spectacular, over-the-top dramatics - where losing love pretty much guarantees death and destruction - so it was pleasantly surprising to see Raj despair in such a contained, rational way.


Raj's emo despair is only expressed in some handy superimposed flashbacks on low volume.

The performances matched the film's understated sentimentality. Critics of Raj Kapoor can relax in knowing that he's very toned down in this film, with none of the trappings of the squirrelly, "Ji!"-ing tramp persona he was most famous for. We should note that he shares the screen very well in this film - acquiescing his huge screen presence (and iconic fame, at the time!) to Agha again and again. For a performer that sometimes suffered from overly self-indulgent theatrics and occasional outright screen-hogging, it was refreshing to see how well he worked with the other two leads, Agha and Sadhana. Beth rightly notes how sweet the bromance between Raj and Agha is and, while Sadhana's performance sometimes felt flat for us, the romance was lovely (sometimes heart-meltingly so!). For that reason, we liken this film as more Chori Chori or Jagte Raho than one of those "It's The Raj Kapoor (Me! Me! Me!) Show!" movies, and Raj Kapoor haters, you should give this a try.

Why should I love: Raj Kapoor?

Oh, Raj Kapoor.


The brief window of Raj Kapoor's ultimate gorgeousness, before he succumbed to the Kapoor familial blobbiness.

Good ol' Raj is a bit of a controversial figure on the blog circuit. While he is revered by mainstream critics of Hindi cinema, he gets a bit abused by our current subculture of the online critic circle (and by our work friends!). The main accusations against good ol' Raj are:

1. Insensitive gender relations and a tendency to objectify his heroines when directing.
2. His style of acting could sometimes spill over into over-the-top self-obsessed indulgence.

Alas, we can't really argue with these - they are, unfortunately, two of his very real weaknesses as an artist. Yet, we still remain very big admirers of Raj Kapoor, mostly because his talents - when they were on full-force - far outweighed his faults.

The thing about Raj was that he was inspiring! For the PPCC, when Raj was on his game, he was the absolute best - no other Indian actor can even compare. He was transcendental. He was open and human and incredibly alive. More than once, we found ourselves not only completely compelled by his performance, but also completely blown away by his talents behind the camera. As a director, he delivered stark visual aesthetics that favored dramatic geometry - sharp diagonals, powerful contrasts of light and dark, moodiness and intensity. As an actor, he could project complexity, vulnerability and loads of charisma and he was especially effective when restrained. We reckon he did his best work in black and white, as his efforts in color (notably, his post-Nargis efforts) - Satyam Shivam Sundaram and Mera Naam Joker - paled (pardon the pun!) in comparison.


Help us, reader log, what film is this from?

He didn't have great jodi power with his male costars - we recall seeing a Dilip Kumar/Raj Kapoor film where both leads seemed ill at ease, and Sangam's Raj Kumar/Raj Kapoor pair was likewise flat - but his pairing with female costars was far more succesful, the most famous being his relationship (both on- and off-screen) with Nargis.


A very cute behind-the-scenes photo of Nargis and Raj. Yay, Google images!

Many actors since his era have tried to emulate him, in particular our current house favorite, Anil Kapoor. Apparently when Anil Kapoor saw Awaara, he was blown away (much like the PPCC!) and decided to be an actor (we just decided to watch more Raj Kapoor movies). Funny then that we should have called Anil's performance in Yuvvraaj a "Raj Kapoor in Awaara type of performance" - and indeed, the more we watch of Anil, the more we see how he's inherited quite a bit from the Raj Kapoor legacy (e.g. Virasat, Eeshwar). Apparently there was some idea floated around last year of making a Raj Kapoor biopic with Anil Kapoor in the lead. Despite no physical resemblance (what will we do about Raj's huge, expressive, emo eyebrows?), we think this is a fantastic idea. (Ooh, and OMG, who would play Nargis?!) DO IT, PEOPLE IN CHARGE. DOOOOO ITTTTTTT.

Anyway.

Why should I love: Raj Kapoor?

1. The unique, transcendental power!

2. The gorgeous, painful subtlety!

3. The shades of Shakespearean wistful sarcasm!

4. His ability to combine radical dystopian aesthetics with "patriotic schmaltz"!

5. And, well, the PPCC likes to watch him cry, too.

THE JODI: a bonanza of love!

जोड़ी - jodi, n. Hindi. pair, match, duo

The Masala Jodi
Shashi Kapoor & Amitabh Bachchan, "Shashitabh"


The rest of this list isn't in any order, but this is definitely first. It would be silly to pretend that our favorite genre of Hindi films isn't masala - that unique and characteristic blend of outrageous, operatic, zany emotionalism that they make so well in Mumbai. Fellow blogger Beth has already discussed what aspects makes masala masala (dishoom dishoom, gangster lairs, lost babies, disguises), and indeed the masala genre - especially its golden era in the 1970s - is much beloved by the blogosphere. We have to admit - masala is like crack. Once you start, you can't get enough. Or maybe it's like sushi - an acquired taste, addictive for the converts but unpalatable for those missing the gene. Masala demands that you suspend all logic to honor instead the big heart of humanity. Dishoom! Its high point, we would argue, was in the mid to late 70s with the films of Manmohan Desai, though there have been some peaks since then (e.g. Farah Khan's films).

The jodi that best defined that golden era of 1970s masala was, of course, our beloved Shashi Kapoor and Amitabh "Biggest superstar of Bombay" Bachchan. These two met at the party that was Roti Kapada Aur Makaan, but they fell in bromance in Deewaar. The chemistry between these two already very charismatic actors was magnetic - whether they were playing estranged brothers or even antagonists, we could rest assured that they would always have a very strong connection. Like the Force! They complimented and contrasted each other as a quirky yin and yang: Amitabh's macho bravado against Shashi's fey dandying. Sometimes one would be the "straight man" to the other's gags (e.g. Amitabh begging Shashi not to report him in Suhaag), sometimes the roles would switch (e.g. Shashi begging Amitabh to save him from marriage in... Suhaag again). They had unique and different screen presences (and hotness factors) which, combined, became even better. Like... chocolate and raspberries! Pizza and pineapple!

What are some magic jodi moments? Most people would probably point to the iconic "Mere paas maa hai!" dialogue from Deewaar, but we've never cared for that film. Instead, we love:

• Amitabh dragging a drunken Shashi away from an Amazon-style Parveen Babi in Namak Halaal.
  
• When Amitabh and (a sick!) Shashi fight off some goons in Immaan Dharam, and Shashi warns the goons that their (platonic) girlfriend has two brothers looking out for her. When none of them are actually related!
  
• In Silsila, when Shashi gives Jaya a tape of Amitabh reciting poetry. Jaya asks, "Praytell, who is this gentle poet with the fly voice?" And Shashi smiles in that Shashi way of his and croaks that Shashi voice of his, proudly informing her, "Mere bhaaaaaaai hai!" ("He's my brother!") And then a fast cut to Amitabh kicking it with a brass band in tow.
  
• Basically, all of Suhaag, but especially the bit when Shashitabh's mom enquires about whether Amitabh is already/is intending to get married, and Shashi jams his toast and says, "And who's gonna marry this loafer, goonda, idiot..." under his breath.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Deewaar, Suhaag, Immaan Dharam, Trishul, Do Aur Do Paanch, Namak Halaal, Silsila, Kaala Patthar... and in particular Aa Yaar Sun.


The Endangered Jodi
Rani Mukherjee and Anil Kapoor, "Anvil Rain, by Meatloaf"

Anyone else reminded of Broken Social Scene's Lover's Spit? "Oooooh, all these people drinking lover's spit, sit around and clean their faaaace with it."

We must make special mention of our newest favorite jodi, Rani Mukherjee and Anil Kapoor. These two are endangered because, as Anil creeps along to 30 50 (!), it becomes increasingly unlikely that he'll be playing many hero roles and indeed, as Filmi Girl notes and we agree, he's instead moving into the Pran territory of character roles. Meanwhile, Rani, at 30, is in her heroine prime - though heroines have a much shorter lifespan than heroes in Bombay, and so she might be finding herself in that netherworld of Juhi Chawla-esque pre-"Naaahiiiiin!"-ing Mom roles in ten years (good for this jodi!). Either way, it's unlikely that we'll see this jodi again anytime soon - as much as we really, really would like to, Mr. Bollywood Producer! Surely Anil's producer brother, Boney, can get something going for these two? Maybe they can be the kooky sideplot couple in some multi-starrer melodrama? (Though, honestly, we'd prefer to just give 'em a big ol' three-hour masala meltdown movie as hero and heroine. That would rock!)

Anyway, the reason we like these two so much is because, as with all good jodis, they have great chemistry. They're both talented at comedy of the squishy dil variety; e.g. expressive, funny and able to freely burst into tears. They can both carry much more depth, if needed. But we really like them for their light-hearted romping in Nayak, our newest favorite movie. Those acid trip scenes won us over completely.

Magic jodi moments?

• In Nayak, when Anil says something sweet to Rani, causing her to burst into tears. After letting her cry for a minute, he goes, "Okay, okay, give me a smile now. Come on, smile." When a blubbering Rani tries to smile through her tears, Anil looks disgusted and drawls, "Theek-se haanso, naaaa?" ("Laugh better!")
  
• In Nayak, when an angry Rani admits she had fed Anil's lunch to the goat because she was so angry at him, and so can only give him some stale roti and onions. Anil not only assures her that "stale rotis with you is great!" but cries when she feeds him.
  
• And basically everything they do in the roti song, the Mughal-e-Azam song, the chalo chale song and the pot people song.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Nayak, Calcutta Mail, the movie that we're going to make the day we win the lottery and take over Bollywood... and that's IT!


Jodi of the Future
Farah Khan and Shah Rukh Khan, "Yes, we Khan!"


While choreographer/director Farah Khan and superstar Shah Rukh Khan have been friends since their early days in Mumbai, they only started their most potent collaboration in 2004 with Farah Khan's directorial debut, Main Hoon Na. This film revived in grand style the best of masala (which the Shashitabh jodi embodied): it was loud and beautiful and fun and frantic and smart. The two followed this up with 2007's Om Shanti Om, which was even louder and more fun (though with a crazy second act... a more unfortunate masala characteristic!). Given the superhit status these two films achieved, we're pretty sure that Farah and SRK will be teaming up again, and we look forward to whatever they'll give us with great anticipation!

Why is this jodi so great? Well, Farah Khan knows masala and she knows exactly how to use SRK. The man was made to be a singing, dancing, charming performer - a star, more than an actor - and Farah puts his hamming and preening to work in the best possible context. Om Shanti Om, in particular, is loaded with a knowing, self-deprecating sense of humor as we watch SRK the struggling extra ham his way up to SRK the egotistical superstar, with ample in-jokes along the way. We love Farah and SRK because they are two intelligent entertainers who make seemingly "brainless" pop which is actually not so brainless at all!

Magic jodi moments?

• A scene that made us go, "Yes! YES! THANK YOU, FARAH KHAN!" was in Om Shanti Om, when Om the struggling SRK comes home to his mother and engages in the most filmi melodramatic meltdown over his doomed chances at becoming a star. This scene - with its silly camera angles, and SRK's angsty posturing - was perfect and great, a silly piss-take both of SRK's critics and SRK himself.
  
• In Main Hoon Na - another film filled with in-jokes about the aging SRK playing the eternally youthful college student - the scenes when SRK expresses his most charming nerdy side, singing off-key, throwing his limbs around helter-skelter, swooning at Sushmita Sen and generally being buoyant and wonderful and freeeee. Sometimes we forget why we love SRK so much, but then we watch Farah's films and dance routines and go, "Oh, yeah."

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Main Hoon Na, Om Shanti Om, and almost any SRK dance routine in the 90s and 2000s was choreographed by Farah... so we'll just pick the legendary Chaiyya Chaiyya from Dil Se as representative.


Golden Era Jodi
Nargis and Raj Kapoor, "Setting screens alight (burn, baby, burn!)"


Sigh. Raj and Nargis. To call what they had "chemistry" is to undervalue it. These two were on fire. They were electric, magnetic, alive. Perhaps it was due to their rumored affair, but watching Raj Kapoor and Nargis together on screen was something so elegant, intimate and intoxicating that we at the PPCC always feel a little voyeuristic. Their connection leaped off the screen, it just seemed like they were in each other's skins. We reckon they defined the black and white era of Bollywood too, as they made some of the biggest classics together - Shree 420, Awaara, Chori Chori. Already two very talented performers, they improved each other - especially since powerful, fiery Nargis tempered Raj's tendencies for objectification. And they were equals - another very important aspect of all our favorite jodis.

Magic jodi moments?

• When Raj Kapoor realizes Nargis is his long-lost childhood sweetheart in Awaara. He takes her home and shows her a childhood picture and she turns, eyes alight. "Oh, Raj, it's you!" And Raj just smiles serenely and shrugs.
  
• Actually, all of Awaara.
  
• Their flirting and mutual seductions in Barsaat, where they cast burning glances at each other while the Sitars of Sex blaze in the background.
  
• In Chori Chori when, after a long journey of Benedick-Beatrice style snapping at each other, Nargis realizes her feelings for Raj and realizes that they are reciprocated. Her joy and longing in the song Aajaa Sanam is just incredible to watch. Guh, they're so beautiful!

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Awaara, Barsaat, Chori Chori, Shree 420


The Alt Indie Jodi
Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri, "How do you like them apples?!"


The whole reason we started this blog, Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri are probably the most recognizable and palatable jodi for the Western Bollywood virgin. With their naturalistic acting, and their tendency to appear in Western films as well, these two are most fun when they can just cavort together like the Statler & Waldorf of Hindi cinema, grumpily heckling the younger generation. Honestly, when our well-meaning and thoughtful Hindustani friends try again and again to tell us why Aamir Khan is really a great guy, blah blah, we just think of Naseer and Om cackling in the background. Because they are it - they are the real deal. Aamir Schmamir, Naseer and Om are the real progressives.

The best parts of the jodi can be found in their Parallel Cinema days, but there are also some Bollywood moments to be had. Magic jodi moments, off the top of our head:

• Naseer trying to save Om's butt in the first film ever PPCCed. Oh, the memories!
  
• The wasted Om and Naseer peeing over the side of the balcony in Maqbool.
  
• Team Naseer-Om kicking dacoit butt in the Kurosawa-inspired misfire that was... CHINA GATE.

Where can I watch this jodi in action? China Gate, Aakrosh, Maqbool, Sparsh, Arth, Shoot on Sight

The Official PPCC Jodi
Pran and the PPCC, "A match made in heaven"


It was love at first sight here at the PPCC when Pran made his debut on our television screen and in our hearts. Never again would we be able to review a film co-starring Pran in the same way, as his presence inevitably provoked such an intense burst of passionate affection that we usually can only write "PRAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!" and be done with it.

What is it about Pran that makes him so gosh-darned special and so golly-whiz lovable? Is it his characteristic delivery WHERE.EVERY.WORD.SOUNDS.LIKE.IT'S.OWN.SENTENCE!? Or is it his craggy, pirate-esque features? Is it the fact that he was apparently some sort of mathematical genius? Or is it all those fabulous character roles he played, where no masala treat would be complete without "...and PRAN!" in its title credits?

Whatever it was, we identify with Pran. We are like the Pran of the blogging world. When they make the masala madness meltdown movie of Bollywood bloggers, we want to be the Pran - perhaps a little ambiguous, a little shady, but distinct, quirky, memorable! Hero, schmero, GIVE US MORE PRAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!

Magic jodi moments:

• PRAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!
  
• PRAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!
  
• ...AND PRAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where can I watch this jodi in action? Amar Akbar Anthony, Madhumati, Do Musafir, Don, Chori Chori, and our hearts

Sindoor (1987)

[PPCC Service Announcement: Some of you may have noticed that all our other images have fallen off the site. Yes. Yet again, we have exceeded our Photobucket bandwidth for the month. Worry not, they'll come back in a couple days. And we're working on making the site more sustainable for your viewing pleasure. Many apologies from the PPCC management team.]

Sindoor was, for the PPCC, a movie of strong feelings. Half of the time, we were yelling like The Dark Knight's Two Face when his face is doused in gasoline: "No! No! NO!!" The other half of the time, we were exclaiming, "Ooh, keeeee-UTE!" Often, both at the same time. And always - always - because of our beloved Shashi Kapoor.

We beloved Shashi Kapoor. We love him so much we printed out his IMDb filmography and have been crossing out the movies we've seen. Our goal: to enter the Guinness Book of World Records as having been the only person to have seen every single Shashi Kapoor film ever made (we reckon even the man himself hasn't seen all of them). We still have, like, 120 to go. Yay!

So anyway, we're devotional. We'll watch anything with him it. Like Memsaab to Shammi Kapoor, like Filmi Geek to Shabana Azmi, the PPCC is to Shashi Kapoor. Hence Sindoor, that late 80s aging romance fest, was something that was coming up fast on our radar.

Why the Two Face-esque NO! NO! NO!? Well, because Shashi is fat.


Please don't look at us like that, Shashi love.

Okay, okay, we're superficial and cruel. But hey, it was a shock. In five years, the man went from the (relatively) slim father in Vijeta to someone much heavier. Naturally, it changed not only his looks but his way of moving, his physical rhythm.

And why the squealish keee-UTE? Well, because Shashi is Shashi.


Awwwww, kee-UTE! And we think he looks so fly with the gray sideburns.

And the more his temples grayed and his waistline expanded, the more he went from funky masala stud to comforting teddy bear. Plus, he started to resemble one of our favorite high school teachers. The fact that he's playing a high school English teacher just made the resemblence even more freaky. What's that, Mr. Kapoor? Homework on Friday? Whatever you say, your adorableness!

The plot: Well, we gotta say, up front, that we fell in love with Sindoor. Most Hindi movies get really ingrown, incestuous, other in-words: everyone's related, no one realizes it, and the same things keep happening again and again to the same people. So it was refreshing to see something as expansive as Sindoor, where apparently no one is related - even the people you thought were, like the initial mother-daughter pair - and subplots follow random characters into tangential lands of interestingness. Here is a movie where you end up sympathizing and commiserating with the main characters' former work colleagues. It's that generous! Everyone gets a chance to say their bit!


This is Jeetendra, kickin' you in the face.


Who was manning the camera here? WHO?! A lover of wooden cabinets?!

Which makes it a bit hard to summarize neatly. But we'll try. Mom (Jaya Pradha) and Daughter (Neelam) love each other. Daughter meets Boy (Govinda), who is a total a-hole but then gets a bit nicer. They fall in love. Daughter and Boy adore their English Professor (Shashi Kapoor). Boy's Crazy Uncle (Kader Khan) makes Boy promise to graduate from high school before Boy and Daughter can get married. They invite Prof to the house, and Prof and Mom have a whole break-down, Stereotypically Shashi-esque shock of recognition moment. Cue flashback #1: Mom used to be Mrs. Prof, until Prof was all like, "I don't like you hanging out with that Rishi Kapoor person." Understandable. Mom walked out, and, cue flashback #2, saved a little girl (Daughter) from getting hit by a truck. Daughter's dad, recently widowered Dad (Jeetendra!), was all like, "OMG thanks for saving my daughter... would you mind pretending to be her mom too?" Mom was like, "WTF?" and Dad was like, "Don't worry, she can't tell the difference." Which she can't.

Ahem.

Anyway, Mom's like, "Sigh, fine." Dad gets knifed by this random goonda, and Dad dies, making Mom swear to look after Daughter. (Nota bene that Mom and Dad are not related.) Mom and Daughter grow up together. But now that Mom's met Prof again and cleared everything up, they're all in a bind: how can pretend-widow Mom snuggle with Prof, if the kids - Daughter and Boy - don't realize that they are actually still married? How can they possibly untangle this knot of human relationships?! To wear the sindoor, or not to wear the sindoor? And sindoor to whom!?! Argh, my BRAIN!

Much confusion ensues, but all is well in the end.


Govinda and Neelam, kickin' it, Switzerland style.


Jeetendra again, in his glorious fight scene. Eight-year-old daughter in one arm, goonda in a choke hold in the other.

Overall, we greatly enjoyed Sindoor. We loved the episodic nature of the plot - hopping from flashback to flashback, melodrama to melodrama. We loved the cuddling cuteness parallels between Govinda-Neelam and Shashi-Jaya in that one song. We loved the unexpected cameos - Rishi! Jeetu! - even when they felt like hangovers from the 70s - Kader?! Asrani?! PREM CHOPRA?! The music was generally OK, but forgettable, while the choreography had some very fun moments - Govinda and Neelam, especially, were delightfully youthful. But hey, any movie where middle-aged romance features (especially with 1980s Shashi) gets a big plus in our book, especially when he's gone all Muppetified and spends most of the movie cuddling people like Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Do Musafir (1978)

Rich dad, poor dad.

Do Musafir, a satisfying masala melodrama, does nothing wrong. That's not to say that it's particularly special either - resembling, as it does, several other movies, and maintaining an altogether difficult emotional tone, even when in the guise of zany masala tropes. It's altogether solid and enjoyable, but we wouldn't call this genre-defining or particularly uplifting.


Delirious romance among the coconuts, whoopee!


Juicy melodrama at home, yeehaw!

In many ways, this film is to fathers and sons what Duniya Meri Jeb Mein was to brothers. Both films use the masala mold to teach us moral lessons about the ties that bind, and both films are generally downers. Do Musafir is, thankfully, less of a downer than Duniya Meri Jeb Mein, mostly because instead of revenge, we have obstacle-free (yes!) romance!

But from the initial set-up of Do Musafir, you know that it's not going to end well: Kailash Babu (Ashok Kumar) is a wealthy industrial and single father. His only son, Vicky (the dreadful Master Bittoo, bane of child actors and the PPCC), is his joy and life. One day, Kailash and Vicky go on a father-son fishing trip, and it's all fun and games until Vicky falls off the boat and is lost at sea. Kailash, assuming Vicky drowned, begins to drown himself in whiskey. (You'll start noticing this film is chock full of parallels. Which is nice.)

Vicky washes up on the Keralan shore (woohoo! new region!) and is promptly picked up by Shambhu (PRAN!!! OMG!!!) and the missus. These simple fisher folk have been praying for a son, and cannot resist keeping Vicky and raising him as their own. Sound Shakespearean enough for you? Vicky quickly grows up into Raju (our beloved Shashi Kapoor), who is, as usual, impossibly adorable and charismatic. With his coy playfulness and incredible studliness, not only his family - but everyone in the village - has got a serious, heart-melting crush on Shashi. So scrumptious!


The Shashi-Rekha duo is da best: Vijeta! Baseraa! Immaan Dharam!

And it's all squishy hearts, coconut milk and fishing in the first half, especially when Bijli (which means "electricity", doesn't it? played by Rekha) shows up and the suitably gorgeous Shashi-Rekha jodi fires up. After a couple songs romping down the Keralan canals and up the palm trees, Rekha moves to the city and Raju, dragging his father along, follows her.

Once there, it is time for the Hindi Movie Irony. Kailash, who now spends his evenings getting drunk in bars, picking up young men and inviting them to bed (yes, really), one evening picks up Shashi and drags him to his bedroom, beckoning him to tuck him in, as a son would a (totally smashed?) father. While most young men take advantage of Kailash, who usually drunkenly insists that they take "what is yours, son" (i.e. his wallet and watch), squeaky clean Raju is, instead, touched and gently pitying. He returns the next morning with Kailash's things and Kailash, marvelling at his honesty, hires him on the spot. And who else works in Kailash's factory? Yes, love interest Bijli! So convenient!


Shashi's rays of goodness, brightening Ashok Kumar's world of pain. Can Shashi do wrong in this film? The answer is no.

So now we have two very sympathetic father figures, played with emotional honesty by Ashok Kumar and Pran. How can this possibly be reconciled? Maybe Shashi can have two Dads? Alas, things can't end well for everyone, and the introduction of our stock Masala Villain (Prem Chopra, in a leering, hilarious role) makes sure of that. Woe.

So what's good about Do Musafir?

• The region! The film makes ample use of the Keralan countryside. Apart from the small meeping sounds the PPCC made whenever we saw our beloved Shashi wearing a lunghi man-skirt and ambling along rows of palm trees (did our heart just pop an artery? the artery of LOVE!), the filmmakers had some fun showing us a fabulous Keralan boat race. For a genre so defined by Emergency-era Bombay, it was such a refreshing change to see such a different (and gorgeous!) state.
  
• The actors! If you've read any other post in this blog, you'll probably have come across our deep and everlasting loyalty to Shashi (our number one), Pran (our other number one), Rekha, Ashok Kumar and even, recently, Prem Chopra (hilarious!). Sometimes Shashi sleep-walked through roles in films that he clearly didn't believe in, and part of the fun of watching his entire catalog (our life goal) is seeing the obvious delight he exhibited in some other roles. In Do Musafir, Shashi is definitely giving it 100%, tossing his curls through the melodrama and exhibiting great comic timing. Everyone else is likewise committed and - with actors such as these - this means it's all great fun! Even the Usual Proletarian Subplot Guy (Jagdeep) was one of our more likable 70s comedians.
  
• Which reminds us of... the comedy! This surprised us, since masala comedy tends to be very broad. Instead, there were several moments in Do Musafir which were subtle, winking jokes - things that surprised us with their easy wit. For example, the fast cut between Shashi handing Rekha's mother a heaping plate of laddoos and, a take later, that plate being nearly empty and Shashi's nervous, bewildered expression as he sits with the mom. Or a moment when one of Prem Chopra's minions catches him drumming his shoes excitedly while alone in his office (though, Prem Chopra has already convinced us he's a comedy super-genius ever since Mard).
  
• The one song Rekha sings in the factory. Well, you know we're suckers for these sorts of things. Proletarian, happy, minor-keyed, elated sublime. This was also very similar to another PPCC fave, Kanyadaan's transcendental Mil Gaye.

The bad-ass boat race!


Shashi bumming it on the ferry from the village.

This was a film that, unexpectedly, didn't rely on the romance or the villain to propel it forward (somewhat to the detriment of Rekha, who didn't have as much to do in the second act), but instead focused solely on the tension between the desire to have a son and a father. The film made no attempts to modernize or quirkify this classical story, but instead maintained such timeworn staples as the contrast between the rich, city father and the poor, peasant father, or Shashi's offer to tear himself in half so they can share him.

All in all, a gushy, goopy film. At times, it threatened to become almost too saccharine, and we wished Shashi would stop being so sympathetic and kick some dishoomy butt. But hey, "too fluffily pure" is hardly a big indictment, and our only real criticism was that it was terrible to watch our beloved trio, the poor Pran-Ashok-Shashi jodi, stuck in such a zero-sum game.

Get well soon, mere pyaare hiro!

Goodness me, the PPCC opens up its Google Alerts and what does it see? Not one, but BOTH, of our beloved heroes - our sabse bade hiro - have been admitted to the (same) hospital within the last two days.

"After Dilip Kumar, Shashi Kapoor Admitted" on Rediff News

Get well soon, kings of our heart! Hamko aap logonse bahut pyaar hai!

*good vibes, good vibes*

Everyone send their good vibes, plz.

Haseena Maan Jayegi (1968)

Ahahaha! Fabulous!


Why are ya strangling yourself, Shashi?


Eh? Why are ya strangling yourself?

Well, gosh. We liked Sharmeelee, and now they've gone and made a male version of it. We take back everything we said, Beth, about Shashi being only an OK actor. But what does it say about the PPCC that after Junoon, In Custody, and Vijeta - all more typically cited sources of good acting on the part of our big hero, Shashi Kapoor - it should instead be the fluffy Haseena Maan Jayegi where we go, "Wow! He's amazing!" And - irony of ironies - Beth doesn't even like this movie!


What an unattractive woman.

Haseena Maan Jayegi is basically the All Shashi All The Time Show. It's a 1960s romp through mindless mod fun - both in Carefree and Emo varieties - and it stars Shashi Kapoor in an excellent double role. First, he is rakish Rakesh (sorry), the college cad with a cat-calling obsession. Though Rakesh is a lot of fun (check out his first number where he teases Jab Jab Phool Khile's Pardesiyon Se Na Aankiyan!), he is a total misogynist. Boo, Rakesh. Second, Shashi plays Kamal, the supreme scion of goodness. On paper, Kamal sounds like a bore - goody two-shoed, earnest, enjoys bringing dates to graveyards and delivering sermons - but he's actually quite endearing. Oh, you!

Both Rakesh and Kamal fall for the same girl, one Archana (Babita). Archana is annoyed by Rakesh's skirt-chasing antics while charmed by Kamal's softspoken gentleness. Yet while Rakesh and Kamal have starkly drawn personalities - and here we must say, Shashi did a great job making them two different people - they are, after all, physically identical. More than once, Rakesh tries to use this resemblance to his advantage and, after Archana is duped, Kamal jokingly warns, "Watch out that you don't marry me and honeymoon with him." Did we just hear the bell of foreshadowing go clang?


We're always so impressed by doubling in Hindi cinema.

Well, this is 1960s pop Hindi cinema, so of course that's what's going to happen. Especially since the Sino-Indian conflict erupts and both boys, former military school students, volunteer to fight. When the two run into each other at the military camp, evil Rakesh decides now is his chance to bump off Kamal. There is a deliriously weird fight scene, as both Shashis are in identical uniforms, and director Prakash Mehra makes sure we have no idea which one just got punched. When it looks like one of the two has been bumped off, we follow the surviving Shashi back home. Now the fun is amplified - the audience doesn't know which Shashi has returned, and his behavior - highly traumatized after the fight; hell, who wouldn't be emotionally scarred after being strangled by their self?! - is a bit off. Who is this guy? It takes a kinda boring courtroom scene followed by an excellent expedition to Tibet (!) to solve everything. And any movie that features Tibet as a place of spiritual awakening gets major brownie points.


There's also a pointless proletarian comedy subplot featuring Johnny Walker. We were annoyed by this, not because of the stupid jokes, but because it was all about Johnny trying to bed this mindless, personalityless woman, whose father kept declaring that he wouldn't let his honor be besmirched. The woman (played by Laali) was just a setpiece to be moved around by the two men, sometimes literally. It was misogynistic and dumb.


OMG HIS ANGST.


OMG HER ANGST. MATCHING SPOUSAL ANGST.

Beth thinks that this film starts strong and then goes off the rails at intermission. We at the PPCC instead loved every minute of it. We admit that this love depended critically on acceptance of the whole "Wait - did I marry Rakesh or Kamal?" dilemma. There are histrionic meltdowns galore in the second half, so if that's not your cake either, avoid.

However if, like the PPCC, you occasionally yearn to see your big hero go limp-wristed from emotional pain...


Like so.

...then there are ample rewards. "Nahiiiin!"

There are also two very nice songs: first, the God of Transcendental Pine-Wooded Lovers' Duets - that is, Bekhudi mein sanam - and, second, the unexpectedly nice duet between Johnny Walker and Ameeta. Bekhudi mein sanam is one of those rare songs that the PPCC knew and loved before having seen a single Hindi movie. It was thus with great joy that we discovered, months ago, that it was picturized on our beloved Shashi. And today it is an even further joy to see that the filmi context surrounding it is as fun as ever. Our only disappointment is that the rest of the songs were sort of subpar for Kalyanji-Anandji.

As we said, this film is really Shashi's show, and he demonstrates amazing energy and variety in his two performances. In fact, so good is he at demarcating Rakesh and Kamal with separate body language that we started to forget it was the same guy playing both characters. Talk about suspension of disbelief! Shashi also threw himself head and foot into the dance numbers. We at the PPCC have seen so many Shashi movies that we've become very familiar with the stock expressions he used when phoning in a performance - in Haseena, it was all new!


Tibetan redemption? *happy sigh*

As is typical in Hindi movies of the era, the women's roles were either completely vacuous or just unlikable. Babita does as much as she can with Archana, which is to say she doesn't have much to work with. Her basic motivation is to get married and preserve her honor, and she doesn't have much of a personality beyond that. Meanwhile, Ameeta could have been replaced with a blow-up doll (in fact, that would have probably made the comedy subplot funnier).

We were really impressed by the direction in this film, but that's no surprise - it was Prakash Mehra. Mehra directed the zany and ridiculous Namak Halaal, starring a by-then-much-older 80s Shashi paired with Amitabh, as well as the only tolerable Devdas adaptation, Muqaddar ka Sikandar. Haseena had some great shots, and overall it was a very skilfully told story.

In terms of film analytics, some cool stuff worth mentioning:

1. Death of the self. OMG the movie starts off all Freudian, where Rakesh and Kamal could easily be symbolic of one man's dual natures (ego versus id?), and then it turns Buddhist, where only by destroying his self + becoming one with himself can the man find peace!
2. Why are they identical? The film never resolves this seemingly incredibly important issue. They only tease us by alluding to it again and again. "Oh yeah, that's Kamal. No, I don't know why we're physically identical." Weird! Maybe the film's trying to say that, deep down, we're all the same - or, as the transcendentalist The Thin Red Line would have it, "Maybe all men got one big soul everybody's a part of, all faces are the same man."
3. The Tibetan bit. Gosh, we can't give too much away, but when ahem ahem cough cough happens and then ahem cough, we were so happy. Even a Tibetan hat! Be still, mera dil. We think this fully supports the Buddhist hypothesis. In fact, you know what, we've convinced ourselves.

Kranti (1981)

From left to right: Dilip, Manoj, Shatrughan and Shashi, all wielding the flame of revolution during the titular dance number.

We'll just get to the point. Kranti (Revolution) is bad. It's only a few notches above Mard, a similarly exaggerated fable of British Raj India. These films take place out of time, in a land where the British are all-powerful and all-evil, and Indians are perpetually victimized and ennobled by their suffering. Like Dhan Dhana Dhan Goal, Anglo-Indian race relations are painted with all the subtlety of a toddler's handpainting.

We at the PPCC are annoyed by these films because, apart from their racism, they also seem to dishonor the memory of the real Indian independence movement. Why invent all these ridiculous stories when the real one is more moving, more inspiring, and, best of all, true? What's the point of making inflammatory statements (Kranti's knock-out being the story of the evil British soldiers who denied a widow the right to burn herself on her husband's pyre only to then gang-rape her)? Don't you trust the real history of oppression, with all its complexity, to be more emotionally affecting than this beefed up grotesquery? Eh, Manoj?!

And who the hell is the target audience?

It certainly isn't the PPCC. And while we were happy to give Kranti more than a sporting chance - all-star cast! Manoj Kumar directs, writes, stars! epical! our beloved Shashi! - it quickly squandered that chance.


Evil collaborator Prem Chopra rules his land with an IRON FIST. (Ha, ha, ha...)

That's not to say it's all bad. It has some nice pro-girl moments; Parveen Babi and Hema Malini star as two kick-ass revolutionaries integrated into the boy's club of violence. The romance between Shashi Kapoor and Parveen Babi's characters is, while brief and mostly insinuated, also cute. Manoj and Shatrughan chew up the scenery in a most satisfying manner while Dilip Kumar seems to sail alone on the good ship Subtlety.

But even those rare lights of OKness are dimmed by the tired, unearned drama and endless vilifying. There are also - as in Mard - some bizarre and misused moments of eroticization. Whips, chains, oppression, racism - who gets kinky at a time like this?! Also, everyone - and we mean everyone - in this film kisses their weapons before using them, which becomes something of an unintended running joke/drinking game.

The plot structure is similar to several other films of the era, and indeed, most of the same people are involved. Sanga (Dilip Kumar) and Radha (Nirupa Roy) are two humble, God-lovin' folk trying to get by in 19th century India. After he inadvertently gets caught between the evil collaborator Indians (led by Prem Chopra, as usual) and their evil British overlords, Sanga finds himself on the wrong side of the law. After some twists and turns, Sanga, Radha, and their two infant sons are all separated, each believing themselves to be the only survivor in the family.

Fast forward some years, and Sanga is now a revolutionary pirate (yes, really) who goes by the name and flies the flag of Kranti (revolution). Meanwhile, his elder son, Bharat (meaning India, Manoj Kumar), is a Robin Hood-type revolutionary who also goes by the name and flies the flag of Kranti. The younger son, Shakti (meaning Strength, Shashi Kapoor), has gone Vichy on the family and is living the life of an Anglicized Indian prince in the palace. As per the required Hindi Movie Irony, Mother Radha labors in that same palace's kitchens as a slave.

Not enough stars for you?! Well then have some more! Spoiled Anglicized Princess Meenakshi (Hema Malini) is abducted by Young Kranti's gang, and she butts heads with salt o' the earth bombshell Sureli (an excellent Parveen Babi). Think you know which heroine ends up with which hero? Not so! The tables turn when Sureli is sent off to the palace, impersonating Princess Meenakshi by (she's instructed) acting rudely to everyone. There follows a too-brief and funny sequence where Sureli goes wild in the palace, getting drunk at a party and (yet again) wooing Shashi at the same time.


At one point, she gets him to kiss her weapon, that cheeky tart.

And let's not forget our Muslim freedom fighter and walking pep talk, Karim Khan (a bad-ass Shatrughan Sinha, as usual), who appears every so often to weild his bad-assery and give everyone a morale boost. OK, we admit it. Every time Shatrughan appeared onscreen, we were PUMPED. YEAH. YEEEAH! LET'S KICK SOME ASS! RAAAH!

Amidst all this, there is the occasionally touching romance between Manoj and Hema (who knew!), numerous scenes of imprisonment, a long and weird sequence on a galley ("Row, ya bastards!" - Eddie Izzard), numerous tales of the Britisher's debauched, purified EVIL embodied in nice guy Tom Altern, and the inevitable reunion of four severely misplaced family members.

The performances are all fun, but that's because all the stars - Manoj, Hema, Dilip, Nirupa, Shashi, Parveen, Shatrughan, Prem, even Tom Altern - are such likable and familiar faces. Indeed, our love for these people is the only reason we watched this silly film until the end.

Special note must be made of Dilip Kumar, who, unlike his fellow Krantites, refused to give into the outrageousness. While Shatrughan and Manoj achieved new heights of uber-drama ("Bastarrrrrd!"), while Shashi bawled with abandon in his Ma's arms (out-emoting even brother Raj, king of emo), Dilip put in a stubbornly authentic, softspoken, heartfelt performance. More than once, we wondered, "What is he doing in this movie!? He must think he's in Gandhi."


It was hard to catch Shashi's bawling, as he moves around a lot, but compare it to older brother Raj's tantrums in Anari.


Actually, poor Shashi goes through the meatgrinder in this film. Here he's been forced to shoot the eye of a rotating mechanical fish, blindfolded, while his foster mother stands right behind the fish eye. Don't miss, my son!


Here, he gets his ass kicked by older brother Manoj. As if that wasn't humiliating enough, some of Manoj's cronies then run him over using his own carriage. Fear not, Shashi Kapoor/Ben Hur fans, he emerges unscathed (well, excepting his pride). Heh! It takes more than some cloven hooves and a three-hundred pound carriage to knock off our big hero.

Another special note must be made of the Manoj-Shatrughan jodi. You know, some pairs just have it. That certain special something. That hint of magic. Much is made of Amitabh and Shashi (and, after seeing this, we would say Shashi and Whoever's Playing His Mom), but we must say Manoj and Shatrughan have something oddly and equally magnetic about them. At least, there's this silly sequence when they're both imprisoned in the galley of a random British boat together. After a single cut, they've both grown matching beards and it all turns a bit Monty Python. When Shatrughan starts despairing to the point of histrionic meltdown, and Manoj grabs him in a bear hug from behind, beckoning him to, "Take it easy, man!" - well, gosh, the PPCC was touched. These two are lovely together. They play off each other so well, feeding each other's melodrama: Manoj's hurt moans of "NAHIN!" coupled with Shatrughan's enraged roars of "NAHIN!" Have they made any more films together? Please say yes, internet!


These two were an unexpected, happy surprise of this film. If the PPCC could make films on demand, we would demand that they make a special subfilm of Kranti called: Manoj and Shatrughan, The Galley Days.

But alas. An unexpected jodi can't save the rest of this film. This film came in at the low tide of ideas (and other things). Manoj's legendary patriotism - which we approved of in Roti Kapada aur Makaan - was misspent and tiresome. So were Dilip's naturalist acting, Shashi's maudlin tears, and Parveen's zaniness.

The songs were also pretty disappointing for Laxmikant-Pyarelal, though thankfully some of the picturizations were flamboyant enough to be entertaining. Manoj and Hema's kinky love duet on the boat, where he is strapped to the mast (a la Odysseus!) and she (a la Siren!) writhes around on the deck in front of him is... pretty shocking. We at the PPCC also really enjoyed Shatrughan and Hema's disguise song which they use to rescue Manoj (chained up, yet again) - Shatrughan, doomed and blessed to play the bad-ass that gets killed off in the end of every movie, is a lot of fun doing comedy.

This film's basic problem is that the emotional kicks - which are a masala film's life-source - don't work. We don't buy the faux historical context, and we're not particularly sold on the family drama either. Roti Kapada aur Makaan is an example where Manoj Kumar got his formula really right: a broad socially-minded context involving the Plight of Mother India, and, cast against that, a moving story of human relationships. Kranti, on the other hand, is an example where the formula went horribly, terribly wrong.


First: is Manoj wearing a ski cap? Let me tell ya, it was very distracting.
Second: the film went out of its way to empower this disabled guy with no arms. Manoj introduces him (in the above scene) as Yet Another Victim of British brutality (the British cut off his arms... just because he was Indian!), but then the guy ends up becoming an integral supporting character who saves our heroes from imminent death on more than one occasion. Indeed, we see this guy achieving amazing feats - climbing aboard the ship with a knife between his teeth, stealing guns and shooting British minions, rescuing Manoj and Hema, dancing in the big show-stopping numbers. It was like... YEAH, GUY, YEAH!