My Favourites: Songs in Disguise

No, I do not mean the songs are masquerading as something else (what?); it's just that it made for a catchy title. On the other hand, the idea for this post came from when I was writing the post on tropes in Hindi cinema. I did make fun of the hero disguising himself to get into the villain's lair, but I also recorded that it gave us some splendid songs, and therefore that was one trope I didn't mind having around. As tropes went, that wasn't egregious at all.  

The next step, of course, was to write a post on songs sung by the hero in disguise. The question of course, was, should I limit myself to what one of my readers, Subodh, calls my 'autocratic and dictatorial' rules? Should I, for instance, restrict it to just that trope - the disguised hero in the villain's den? Or should I, would I, could I widen the scope of the theme? After all, our heroes are known to disguise themselves to woo their beloveds in front of their disapproving fathers. They also disguise themselves just to woo the disapproving heroine, who will fall in love with them soon after. Hmm... after a long time spent debating the pros and cons (all of 3.6 minutes), I decided I would, could, and should leave the theme wide open - 'why' doesn't matter.  

Many Faces, Many Moods

Bharat Gopy

02.11.1937 - 29.01.2008

Sometime in September last year, I was contacted by fellow-blogger Cinematters, who had been given the enormous task of making an official website on the late Gopy, the extremely talented Malayalam actor, by the latter's son, Murli Gopy, an actor and scriptwriter himself. When Cinematters mentioned the project to me, informing me that he was in possession of a huge trunk of the late actor's diaries, photographs, handwritten scripts (including that of Govind Nihalani's Aaghaat in the director's own handwriting), he did it with the sole purpose of turning me blue, green and purple with envy. Ever so often, he would send me emails about some treasure he had unearthed again - Gopy's poems, his notes about the character he was playing on his copy of the script, his letters to his wife, etc. I turned greener, bluer, and more purple as each email came in. 

But Cinematters was so enthusiastic about this mega-project that it was hard not to be infected with the same enthusiasm. So when he wondered if I would write him an article, to be featured on the late actor's website, I jumped at the offer. While I have reviewed Malayalam films on this blog, I have never before written an in-depth article about any of the industry's stellar artistes. Thanks to Cinematters who provided me with an excuse and the platform, I wrote - from my heart - about Gopy. (This article was originally published on bharatgopy.com under the 'In Memoriam' label.)

Chandni Chowk

1954

Directed by: BR Chopra

Music: Roshan

Starring: Meena Kumari, Kumar, Jeevan, 

Agha, Shekhar, Achla Sachdev

Smriti Biswas, Krishna Kumari,
Protima Devi

I first came across this film a few years ago. All I knew was that it starred Meena Kumari. While I liked a couple of songs from the film, I didn't bother to watch it. There were too many other interesting films to watch, and besides, who has the time? Then, late last year, I came across Chandni Chowk again. This time, I realised that the film was a Muslim social. I like Muslim socials, especially the well-crafted ones. Then, I discovered that it was directed by BR Chopra. That was a combination that I could not resist because I usually like BR Chopra's movies. His female characters are usually very strong, even if they are 'traditional'. His movies also take a stand on very sensitive social issues. I like a film-maker who has the courage of his convictions. I have also liked Chopra's previous foray into the world of Muslim socials - Nikaah and Tawaif (that I also saw recently) among his films, and the very well-made television series, Bahadur Shah Zafar. So, with a little trepidation (The hero is Shekhar? Do I really want to watch it?), I watched it in between waiting for some long and boring edited files to be uploaded.  

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer

1947
Directed by: Irving Reis
Starring: Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple, 
Ray Collins, Rudy Vallee, Johnny Sands, Harry Davenport

It was while watching Love in the Afternoon that it struck me how much I preferred Cary Grant to Gary Cooper. Since attraction is subjective, I always found Grant's a much more interesting face. Besides, I think he is a darn sight better actor than Gary Cooper ever was. And I personally believe that no one did the dry, deadpan humour as well as Cary Grant did. Again, a subjective opinion, so Gary Cooper fans can relax. :)

So I was thrilled when Netflix deposited The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer in my mailbox. I had been looking out for it ever since I read Dustedoff's wonderful review of the film. So it was with an air of delicious anticipation that I waited to watch the film. I must admit that I was prepared to be pleased and I was. Very. 

Of course, before I get to the movie itself, the preamble...

My husband (taking the DVD out of its sleeve): Your film has arrived. 

Me: Which film?  

Him: The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer. What the heck is a bobby-soxer?

Me (insouciantly): An adolescent girl, of course! (With an air of 'You don't know *that*? Of course, I didn't know it either, until last year, but am I going to tell him that? Actually, it stands for adolescent girls who turn down the tops of their socks - we did that in school all the time growing up; who knew there was a specific term for that?)

Him: Okay, but if it is boring, I'm going to fall asleep. (We were both exhausted from all the snow-shovelling that we did earlier that day.)
Me: (in anticipation of watching Cary Grant on screen) Uh-huh...

Well, he didn't fall asleep. If that is not a recommendation for a movie, you don't know my husband. 

Poulet aux Prunes

2011

Chicken with Plums

Directed by: Vincente Paronnaud, Marjane Satrapi

Music: Olivier Bernet

Starring: Isabella Rossellini, Maria de Medeiros, 
Golshifteh Farahani, Mathieu Amalric, Jamel Debbouze, 
Chiara Mastroianni, Edouard Baer, Éric Caravaca

I have watched, and liked, Persepolis. Marjane Satrapi's autobiographical tale of growing up during the aftermath of the Iranian Revolution, and her subsequent banishment to Vienna by her concerned parents, found a voice as a graphic novel. She later filmed it with the help of Vincente Paronnaud, who also helped her write its screenplay. It was an animated film that was both humorous and dark at the same time, and showed what it meant to be a people who, though they had a homeland, could never return there. So when I heard about her second film, Poulet aux Prunes, I was intrigued - by the title and the theme. Of a man who, having lost his beloved violin, decides he is going to die after eight days, and confines himself to bed until then. At the time, I had no idea that it was Satrapi's second film. Quite independently of my wanting to watch it, my husband had put it on our Netflix queue and it showed up last month.  

Yeki boud. Yeki naboud. This is how all Persian tales begin. Or so says the narrator. There was someone. There was no one...

My Favourites: Love Songs

Okay, colour me grumpy, but I don't like Valentine's Day. Don't get me wrong - I am an absolute sucker for romance. I still get all wet-eyed and mushy when I read a good romance (no, Mills & Boon is not what I'm talking about; Georgette Heyer is more my style), I still feel 'awww' when I see a good romance on screen, and I am incurably romantic, even if cynical about it for myself. I just don't like a specific idea of 'luvvvv' pushed down my throat. 'True love'  and 'soulmate' make me want to barf. 

I don't want to be told 'I love you' at exactly 10 o'clock every day. I don't want my husband to buy me chocolates, overpriced red roses, or Valentine's Day cards. I absolutely don't want to pay exorbitant rates for a dinner in a restaurant. (Restaurants in my part of the world hike up their prices by at least 40% during this week.) Candlelight dinners are not very romantic - for me.  I like my food too much; I want to see what I am eating. 

As for my husband, I'm thinking back to our first wedding anniversary; let's see... 

We decided (hmm, I decided) to go out for dinner; on the way we ran into our neighbour, who whistled in appreciation when he saw me. (Thank you, Sachin!) My husband promptly offered to let him take me to dinner in his place. And no, he didn't buy me flowers either. In fact, I'm the one who sent my husband flowers on our first anniversary (much to my mother-in-law's amusement and my husband's embarrassment). And the waiter at the restaurant we went to took pity on me when he learnt it was our anniversary, and brought me a red rose. (True story!)

Romantic? Hah! 

The Divas: Sadhana

I began this series, The Divas, with Sharmila Tagore, who I thought best epitomised the category - of actresses with talent who also knew how to package themselves to be a very important part of the sort of films that were being made during the period. The age of 'artistic' commercial cinema had begun to recede, and films were either completely 'commercial' or 'middle-of-the-road'. (Who makes these distinctions is not very clear, because well-made films are always a joy to watch, regardless of which genre they belonged.) But the diktats of commercial cinema needed heroines who were not only beautiful but could also be the stuff of which dreams are made - gossamer, ethereal, feminine - the perfect complement to the  'masculine' heroes who populated the fairy tales on screen. 

It is an unfortunate observation that this breed of actresses could have been interchanged without anyone being any the wiser. The roles were pretty much the same. Yet, in my opinion, the advantage of some of these actresses who I would categorise as 'Divas', lay in the fact that within the parameters of the roles they took on, one couldn't see any other. The fact that they could, and did, very often make those run-of-the-mill roles their own, plus move quite smoothly into the so-called 'artistic' cinema is perhaps what pushes these heroines to the 'Diva' category. 

My second heroine in this category is Sadhana Shivadasani. While I already had her in my list because she is one of my favourite 60s heroines, the impetus to write about her at this point came from Coolone, who is the second runner-up on my RK Quiz. The request was to write  'a blogpost on one of my most favourite actresses, Sadhana'. It is a request that I was more than glad to fulfil. So, Coolone, this one's for you. :)

Hum Sab Chor Hain

1956

Directed by: IS Johar

Music: OP Nayyar

Lyrics: Majrooh Sultanpuri

Starring: Nalni Jaywant, Shammi Kapoor, Pran, Ameeta, 

IS Johar, Badri Prasad, Rajendranath

When I posted my quiz on Raj Kapoor, the 'prize' for the winners of the quiz was a post on whatever they wanted me to write on. Winner Anupama sent me a request for a review of Kaala Patthar, which she believed deserved to be better known than it was. I had to haunt first runner-up Harvey to give me his request. He had correctly answered more than most people even attempted. He gave me choices. P.O. Box 999, Hum Sab Chor Hain or a post of songs - he even gave me a theme. Well, that theme was far too interesting to pass up, but I will need to do some serious research before I can post it. So I have filed it away for future reference. Thank you, Harvey. :) He was also kind enough to say that if I couldn't get my hands on either of these movies, I could surprise him with any post. 

Unfortunately, I couldn't get my hands on his first choice - P.O.Box 999. It had lovely songs, but I'm not too sure that the film was all that great. I have a vague recollection of having seen in the dark ages, but not enough to review it from memory. Hum Sab Chor Hain is a film that I not have seen before, but it was available on YouTube, and besides, it has Shammi Kapoor. I haven't watched a Shammi Kapoor film for ages, so this is as good an excuse as any. Harvey, this is for you, though I'm not too sure you will thank me for it.

My Favourites: Mukesh Sings For Raj Kapoor

There was Mukesh - my soul, my voice, I was a mere body. 
It was he who sang to the hearts of the people all over the world, not me. 
Raj Kapoor was an image, just a carcass of flesh and bones. 
When he died, it was destroyed, I felt there goes my breath, there goes my soul. 
I know what went away from me. 

- Raj Kapoor Speaks (Ritu Nanda)

When Raj Kapoor stood at the airport on that fateful day in August 1976, he was, in his own words, 'just a carcass'. Ten years prior to Mukesh's death, on December 14, 1966 (coincidentally, Raj Kapoor's birthday), lyricist Shailendra had passed away leaving Raj Kapoor bereft.  Just five years after that, in 1971, Jaikishen would leave another hole in Raj Kapoor's life. Speaking of their deaths in connection with Mukesh, he would later say, "When Shailendra left us, I felt I’d lost one arm; when Jaikishen passed away I lost another. But when Mukesh passed away, meri jaan hi chali gayi (I lost my life). I am the body, my soul was Mukesh.”

The Legends: Mukesh - Part 2

22.07.1923 - 27.08.1926

It is very clear from my earlier post, and from many comments on the same, that Mukesh, rightly or wrongly, came to be identified with tragic songs, some of which whined and moaned their way into eternity. (Or at least, it felt like it!) As that post (and this one) shows, that certainly wasn't true. In his personal life, he definitely wasn't a tragic figure. From all accounts, he was quite a hasmukh, a jovial man who enjoyed nothing more than the company of his friends, a couple of drinks for quick measure and an evening filled with songs. One of the oft-repeated stories about Mukesh is that he is alleged to have said: Sharab... din mein kabhi chhuo mat, raat ko kabhi chhodo mat! (Never touch a drink during the day; never miss a drink after dusk.)  A harmonium would be pulled out, and a musical soiree would follow the drinks, Mukesh regaling his friends with songs without any recording paraphernalia around. 

But while he enjoyed his drink, he was definitely not addicted to it. In fact, the secret of his success can be traced to the fact that however late he went to bed, he was up at 5 a.m. doing his riyaaz for the next couple of hours. That discipline, and his open, easy-going nature attracted composers who have, at one time or the other, found songs that needed Mukesh and only Mukesh to do justice to the emotions contained in them.