Kahaani (Sujoy Ghosh, 2012)

Vidya Bagchi, seven months pregnant, travels from London to Kolkata in search of her missing husband, Arnav Bagchi. Her journey begins at the Kalighat police station, where she meets Rana, a young, innocent police officer who sets his heart on helping Vidya. What starts out as a single woman’s search soon involves the police and the Central Bureau of Intelligence, all hunting a criminal mastermind, Milan Damji, who is inextricably linked with Arnav Bagchi. As higher-ranking officials get involved, the plot thickens and the stakes get higher, all while focusing on Vidya’s relentless search for the man she loves. Kahaani breaks the conventions of a thriller genre with an overwhelmingly cultural setting and a female lead, both of which contribute to a novel and exciting viewing experience.

Kahaani is not your everyday thriller. Unlike other Bollywood thrillers that often ape successful Hollywood movies, Kahaani is uniquely Indian in many ways, most obviously seen in the portrayal of Kolkata. Returning to West Bengal for a second time after his film Nobel Chor, Ghosh unravels Kolkata before your eyes in a breathtaking manner – the extensive use of a handheld camera that portrays the characters’ points of view gives the movie a realistic, documentary-like approach, allowing you to witness the wonders of walking through the streets of Kolkata just like everybody else. What is most refreshing about this immersive viewing experience is how Ghosh creates the verisimilitude of quintessential Kolkata to build the suspense of the thriller. The unsteady camera fosters a sense of instability and unease from the beginning, giving the viewer several glimpses into what the world looks like from Vidya’s point of view, a broken, hunted woman on a ghost trail in an unknown city. As the tension builds, so does the intensity of the city - vehicles’ noises get louder, incessantly shrill chanting and yelling abruptly interrupt dialogues, high speed car chases are replaced by the unbearably slow Kolkata crowds and traffic, making you sit tight in anticipation of what is to come. Ghosh completely reforms the “chase” - running through the narrow lanes of the city in amidst Kolkata’s mayhem at the time of Durgo pujo pulls all the excitement and adrenaline of the chase into an environment that is undeniably real to an Indian viewer. The intelligent choice of using Kolkata – a metropolis that also hosts one of the biggest religious events of the country – ensures that the authenticity of this thriller in a Bengali environment gets across to the viewer.

The star of this movie is unquestionably Vidya Balan, who plays the protagonist, Vidya Bagchi. With the heavy, unsteady walk of a pregnant woman and her innocent gaze, Vidya Bagchi’s vulnerability evokes sympathy in almost everyone she interacts with, who are then eager to help her in any way possible – giving her easy access to police records and company information that are integral to leading her to her husband. However, Bagchi is no ordinary mother. She is terrified yet bold, soft yet sharply perceptive and undefeated by anything thrown her way. Her character, at times, seems unnaturally in control of the situation – like when she is all too comfortable breaking into deserted offices at night, and is able to shoot a man dead with no previous shooting experience. However, this is contrasted by close-up shots of her crying alone in her bedroom, which highlight the torment she faces. Balan moves between vulnerable and powerful with subtle grace, never overpowering in her portrayal of Bagchi. She contrasts her clumsy body language with the sharpness of her tone and gaze, portraying the surprising grit of Vidya Bagchi. Balan’s moving performance highlights the indomitable attitude that Bagchi must adopt, borne out of a woman’s desperation, to survive and accomplish her mission in a male-dominated world.

Kahaani blatantly compares Vidya to Ma Durga: towards the climax, shots of Vidya are increasingly interspersed with those of goddess Durga’s sculptures, and people praying to her. To anyone who knows of the goddess, the comparison is clear: like Ma Durga, Vidya is the mother who has come to defeat the demons of this world and overthrow evil. Her symbolic donning of the white-and-red sari on the last day of Durgo pujo further enforces the character of Vidya as the female agent of justice in this patriarchal society. However, Vidya Bagchi also likes children, cries, longs for her husband and is emotionally shaken by her first kill. Thus, interestingly, Bagchi’s character doesn’t make a statement about the power of women by subverting every female stereotype there is, but by standing up to the men who undermine her within the comfortable spaces of femininity and motherhood, reasserting the power that a woman can wield while still being feminine in her own right. In this respect, Kahaani is an integral marker in the modern rise of the evolved, female protagonist and power of female actresses in the Bollywood industry.

Although Balan steers much of the film, Kahaani put up a cast that more than fulfilled the other roles in the movie. Parambrata Chatterjee, a renowned Bengali actor, makes his debut Hindi film appearance as Satyaki  (Rana) Sinha, a mellow hearted police officer who fulfils his role as the 'helper to Arjun' (or the helper to the warrior Vidya, as pointed out to us in the movie) with a sheepish gentleness that provides a much-needed essence of warmth and softness to the movie. Another notable actor is the infallible Nawazuddin Siddiqui, who plays CIB agent A. Khan. With his anti-hero reminiscent bad-cop swagger, A. Khan is the antithesis of Rana, a cop with dehumanising real-world experience that juxtaposes Rana’s innocent immaturity. We see this towards the end, when Rana realizes that Khan is ready to sacrifice Vidya’s life to capture the criminal Damji. The interplay between the natures of these two characters touches on the grim reality of the intersecting worlds of crime and justice. Kahaani uses an interesting milieu of male characters to highlight the darkness of the ‘system’ and the reality of power distribution in a bureaucratic government organization. Khan uses his pawns, Rana and Inspector Chatterjee, to exploit Vidya’s progress in locating her husband, and he in turn unknowingly works for the mole within the CBI. Bob Biswas, the on-the-ground hit-man gets killed in a chase and Rana is made to sit by while Vidya walks to her death. The victimization of the characters lower down the power hierarchy, or “collateral (damage)”, as Khan puts it, effectively brings home the cruelty of a bureaucratic structure and the reality of idealistic morals being ground to dust. 

While Kahaani is supported by a great cast, innovative cinematography, a brilliant twist at the end and progressive social messages about female empowerment, it falls short in the logic of events that forms the basis of a good thriller. The many conveniences in Kahaani, like the sculptor/informant who knows information that is very hard to find and the surprising ease of breaking into secure buildings, would be highly unlikely to happen in reality. However, for Indian popular cinema, Kahaani is a landmark film in the thriller genre, especially for its powerful female protagonist.  Its novel interpretation of the genre and execution of plotline are sure to set the precedent for many better-developed, female-lead thriller movies to come. And for all the women in the future who carry whole movies on their shoulders, Kahaani is an inspiration to “be not afraid, and walk alone” (from the song Ekla Cholo Re, Kahaani). 

English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde, 2012)

Cast: Sridevi, Adil Hussain, Mehdi Nabbou, Pyriya Anand, Neelu Sodhi, Cory Hibbs, Sulabha Deshpande

Director: Gauri Shinde

Screenwriter: Gauri Shinde

Producers: R. Balki, Rakesh Jhunjhunwala, R.K. Mani, Anil Lulla

English Vinglish Film Review

English Vinglish is not your typical Bollywood film. The film was directed by Gauri Sinde and released in 2011 starring Bollywood’s most beloved, Sridevi.  English Vinglish depicts the journey of an Indian housewife (Sridevi) learning English in a four-week crash course. It’s hard to imagine that Sridevi hasn’t worked in a film for about fifteen years because her performance in English Vinglish is absolutely brilliant. She was able to portray Shashi with such genuine emotions that throughout the film you can’t help but fall in love with Shashi.

From the opening scene we watch Shashi (Sridevi) going about her morning routine and from here it is established that she is the glue that keeps the family functioning. She is shown running around serving breakfast to everyone. From this opening scene we see how under-appreciated she is by her family. Not only does she not have time to enjoy her own cup of coffee, but her family is constantly making fun of her for not being able to speak English. The micro-aggressions reveal how her family considers her to be less intelligent because of the fact that her primarily language of communication is Hindi not English.     

It only gets worse, her daughter, who honestly in my opinion is such an obnoxious character, is embarrassed to have her mother at the parent teacher conference. Even though this might not seem like a big deal, you can see how hurt Shashi is from this constant behavior from her family. Her husband is just as awful as the daughter, in one part of the film he dismisses her small business because its involved with making laddoo (a south Asian dessert).  At one point, her husband says “Shashi was born to make laddoo” as if that was her sole purpose in life. This was one of the many ways in which the family showed just how ungrateful they were.

One day, the family gets a phone call from Shashi’s sister announcing her niece’s wedding. Shashi then leaves for New York to help with the wedding before the rest of the family comes to New York. After being in a situation where she is unable to speak English, Shashi decides to secretly take a four-week course to learn the language. The second half of the film is then about Shashi’s English class where you see multiple other people also in the same boat as her. Everyone shares their back story and it is really heartwarming to see their struggle as well as their progress with learning English.

It is no surprise that at the end of the film, Shashi is able to conquer her fears and make her family feel ashamed for their behavior.  Even though the film has a happy ending, its important to look at the larger message it has. Shinde beautifully articulates the importance of understanding that being able to speak English does not make you superior to others. In the closing scene, when Shashi is on the flight back to India, she asks for The New York Times and midway through her sentence she changes her mind and asks if there is any Indian newspaper available.  Despite being able to now speak English Shashi continues to show her admiration for the Hindi language. She shows how nothing can be more important than appreciating your own culture and language. This message is also relayed in the film poster; you can see how Shashi is wearing a trench coat with a cup of coffee in her hand. Behind her is the Manhattan skyline and if you look closely, you can see that she is wearing a sari under the trench coat. In doing so, Shinde is conveying the message that even though you can learn English and become “modern” at the end of the day you still need to embody your Indian culture.  

Even though this film is about Shashi’s journey in learning English, it is ultimately about her learning to find herself as a Indian woman. Her confidence did not result from learning English but rather from her discovering herself. In one of my favorite scenes of the film, Shashi’s classmate tastes her laddoo and says to her that “you are an artist” to this Shashi surprisingly questions whether she is an artist or not. She replies that in society, “when a man cooks, its an art. When a women cooks, it’s just her duty.”  This line is everything. Shinde critiques Indian society for failing to understand that it is not a woman’s duty to cook or have all responsibilities of the house.  In an interview Shinde even states how English Vinglish was her way to say “‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ to [her]  mother’” (Indian Express).

English Vinglish is such a feel good film, and I highly recommend watching it! With such a successful debut film, I am excited to see what else Gauri Shinde has to contribute to Indian Cinema in the future.

Udta Punjab (Abhishek Chaubey, 2016)

Udta Punjab tells the intertwining stories of a migrant worker, a star musician, a doctor, and a police officer who are
connected by two things: drugs and Punjab.

In the late 1990s, televisions across the United States played a short clip of a teenage girl running her hand through her hair and looking angry as she stormed about her kitchen wielding a frying pan, smashing eggs, plates, cups, and everything else in her sight to communicate to viewers the destructive impact of heroin. If this thirty second anti-drug public service announcement were given a $5.9 million budget and extended in running time by two and a half hours, it might closely resemble Abhishek Chaubey’s much-discussed and highly controversial 2016 film Udta Punjab.

Udta Punjab chronicles the journeys of four characters who struggle against drug addictions and trade. Its anti-drug message is omnipresent and unmissable, yet many critics of the film have worried that it glorifies the use of drugs. Before its release, the censor board objected heavily to many parts of the film, proposing nearly 100 cuts. In the end, however, only a single cut was made, and it was one not directly related to drug usage. The inefficacy of the censor board in the case of this film reflects the fact that critics’ concern that Udta Punjab glorifies drugs could not be further from reality. From the opening sequence, in which three plainly dressed men ride together on a single motorcycle through a dark field before throwing a large packet of heroin over a border fence and into Indian land, the drug trade is shown without glory, lacking the glamorized sex appeal illicit drugs have been given in other films such as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (Terry Gilliam, 1998) or Pineapple Express (David Gordon Green, 2008).

Musician Tommy Singh embodies the claims of
glamorization of drug use.

Udta Punjab’s music can, unlike its story presentation, be justly criticized for glorification of drugs. The trance and hip hop-inspired title track of Udta Punjab praises the use of marijuana and cocaine with lyrics such as “freedom and liberty, it’s all in the weed,” “don’t shy away from the high,” and “one sniff is eternal bliss.” Described on India.com as the “party anthem of the year,” this song, like the rest of the music in Udta Punjab, features dark, pulsing beats and is fun to listen to. Despite the track’s enjoyable tune and pro-drug lyrics, it is played in the film over images of tragic consequences of drug abuse. In many scenes, sound editing contrasts fun hip hop music with tragic scenes. Udta Punjab effectively employs music to criticize drug usage within the context of the film. Outside of onscreen context, however, this critical aspect of Udta Punjab’s incredibly popular music—the rights to which were sold for ₹18 crore, making it the largest such deal in the history of Bollywood—may be lost, allowing listeners to possibly misinterpret the music as a glamorization of illicit drugs.

The film’s visuals, unlike the music, cannot be misinterpreted as pro-drug. Punjab is shown as a substance-dependent place of melancholy and despondency. Colors are muted and lighting is often heavily shadowed, literally darkening the film to cinematographically reflect the gloom of the subject matter. The infrastructure of Punjab onscreen is deteriorating, its roads sorely in need of maintenance and its buildings crumbling into ruins. A dilapidated building is, significantly, shown as a site where drug users gather to shoot up heroin. This decaying structure visually connects the drug problem of Punjab to neglect and ruin, reflecting the general disregard of the serious issue of the region’s drug abuse. It is one of the film’s many obvious symbols, which include a hockey stick, swimming, and a billboard advertisement for a beach vacation spot. At times, the overt symbolism can feel trying, but, however obvious these symbols are, each one’s presence in Udta Punjab is, like nearly everything in the film, rooted in reality.

The characters are the film’s biggest strength. Many people in society resign themselves to Punjab’s massive drug problem. Over the course of the film, the disruption of four individuals’ acceptance of the status quo as they decide to reject the world presented to them is shown. While an unnamed migrant worker girl (Alia Bhatt) and famous musician Tommy Singh (Shahid Kapoor) struggle to overcome their dependencies on heroin and cocaine, addiction specialist Dr. Preet Sahani (Kareena Kapoor Khan) and disillusioned police officer Sartaj Singh (Diljit Dosanjh) recognize that they must stand up for their home and attempt to undermine the system that produces and traffics dangerous drugs. Through following the awakening of these four Punjabis to their region’s drug crisis, Udta Punjab praises the bravery of standing up to the seemingly impossible in attempting to take down the reign of drugs.

The migrant worker is introduced to the world of illicit drugs.

Of the four major characters, the most powerful duo is that of Tommy and the migrant laborer girl. Tommy Singh is a wild, angry singer and rapper. On introduction to him, viewers are plunged into a chaotic world of pulsing beats and flashing lights as he jumps and struts onstage at one of his concerts, singing high praises to cocaine. This introduction scene is bright and loud, but, through editing which juxtaposes it with scenes showing the darkness of the drug trade and the emptiness in users’ eyes, feels lifeless. Unlike Tommy, the unnamed girl is quiet and calm. She is in a field alone when the world of drugs loudly interrupts her serenity as the packet thrown over the border fence falls just feet from where she sits. She opens the packet and, trying to determine what it is, puts a bit of it on her tongue, symbolically getting her first taste of the drug culture that will soon consume her life. When she later attempts to sell the packet, she is taken advantage of and captured by members of the drug trade. They hook her on heroin and prevent her from leaving their illicit world. As this nameless girl and Tommy begin their process of freeing themselves from addiction and leaving drugs behind, Udta Punjab hits some of its best notes.

The film’s interesting characters, inventive music, masterful sound editing, attempts at reflecting a real-world crisis, and moments of emotion make Udta Punjab bearable. The film’s unwavering attention to its anti-drug message valuably prevents it from becoming a glorification of drug usage, but does so at the expense of creating a truly engaging narrative plot. Instead of having a central conflict that keeps viewers hooked, the film presents the violence and destruction linked to drugs in an overly broad and wide-sweeping manner. The film’s depictions of its themes are somewhat unprecedented in Indian cinema, but remain unable to overcome the uninteresting plot. Drugs may leave an onscreen warpath, but Udta Punjab remains as unmoving as an extended cut of Rachael Leigh Cook taking her weaponized frying pan out of her kitchen and into all of Punjab.

Abhimaan (Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1973)

by Steffany Moreno

Upon a Google search for “Classic Hindi Movies” IMDb recommends “100 Old Hindi Movies You Should Watch”. At number 40 on this list of must-watch films, Abhimaan (d. Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1973) makes its appearance. The film is described simply as the story of a popular singer whose pride is injured by his wife’s success, it was the leading actors of the movie, Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri (Bachchan) that caught my eye. Amitabh Bachchan is typically known as the angry and disillusioned son, the bad boy with a good heart, the misguided hero as we see in films such as Deewar (d. Yash Chopra, 1975). However in Abhimaan we see a different man, still angry, but changed.

           

The story follows the journey of Subir (Amitabh Bachchan), a professional singer who is just reaching the peak of his career, and his wife Uma (Jaya Bhaduri), a village girl with a beautiful voice with no intention of seeking fame. The two marry somewhat unexpectedly as Uma enchants Subir with her voice and beauty and return to Mumbai where Subir resides. Subir decides to push Uma towards a singing career she does not want with the dream of them being successful together. However, as Uma’s singing career flourishes Subir’s begins to deteriorate. Uma’s fame becomes a point of contention between the couple and their marriage begins to fall apart. Subir turns to alcohol to help him cope with his injured pride and searches for comfort in the house of his old love interest Chitra (Bindu). The alcoholism, jealousy, suggested infidelity, and anger prove too much for Uma. She leaves Subir and goes back to her village to live with her father and Subir’s aunt. Their lives are changed when Uma suffers a miscarriage and plummets into a severe depression (described as a state of shock) that leads Subir to search for her and ask for forgiveness. Finally the couple is reunited, and Uma is “fixed” after an emotional duet.

           

This film is structured in a way that places equal importance in the two leads. While the story is initially focused on Subir and his career as his rage takes over Uma is given more screen time, more dialogue, and because of this becomes easier to sympathize with. Both stars have beautiful character arcs, where there is a clear distinction between who they are at the beginning of the film and who they are by the end of it. Subir is originally self-centered, cocky and focused only on his career. He has no intention of getting married or settling down, his goal is to achieve stardom and enjoy the luxuries that accompany it. Uma is an honest, small-town (village) girl with an engrained set of values and love for life when Subir meets her. She is not impressed by his fame and has no problem telling him she despises some of his songs. Once their lives collide, however change sets in, altering them in several ways.

We see Uma gain confidence as she sings while remaining a loyal and humble wife. Simultaneously, Subir’s jealousy and wounded pride begin to consume him. Their marriage transforms with their characters; while playful and jovial at the beginning, by the time Subir is unrecognizable and head-deep in alcoholism their marriage is hanging on by a thread. Interactions are clearly forced (if at all present) where they once were effortless and constant, and where the house was once filled with music and light in later scenes it is darker and eerily silent except for Subir’s drunken yelling. Uma’s miscarriage prompts yet another development in their characters. Uma is absolutely destroyed after her loss, she refuses to speak to anyone and mopes around with an aura of hopelessness. Subir stops drinking, instead he becomes a supportive husband willing to seek medical advice in order to be able to help his heartbroken wife.  Their changes compliment one another. We see his complete turn around when he is asked to sing at a prestigious gathering and he stops halfway when Uma breaks down not only to console her, but also to share the spotlight with her. The film ends with a heart-wrenching song in which we physically see Uma stand up a little taller and sing a little louder implying her “return” all while her husband holds her up and sings with her. The fact that the movie is able to place both of them as heroes (Subir for saving his wife, and Uma for coming back from her shock) reinforces their shared importance and interdependence. These characteristics of the film make for an infinitely satisfying happily ever after “love wins” sensation.

As the name suggests, Abhimaan is entirely about the consequences of one being prideful. It addresses the fine line between the allure of confidence and the self-destructiveness of pride through the character of Subir. While he is originally the sheer embodiment of confidence in its most attractive and desirable form, he slowly transitions into a man ravaged by excessive pride. Subir serves as a reminder that while it is important to be successful, and to aim for greatness, it is also important to realize what is truly valuable in one’s life. It is pride that leads him to lose Uma and this same pride that prevents him from going to her and asking for forgiveness up until the miscarriage. The emphasis on the importance of love and family (especially children) over success in this movie indicates what Mukherjee deemed most important in life.

Only Subir and Uma have been discussed in depth above, but each character of Abhimaan is carefully and beautifully developed. It is impossible to not mourn with them, rejoice with them, and choose a side in their battles. When Subir’s aunt is introduced, one cannot help but feel affection toward her based solely on how much she clearly loves Subir. Similarly, when he lets her down by mistreating Uma one feels solidarity with her in her disappointment and chastising of Subir. It is the connections the film is able to make across the screen via character development that allow the viewer to give a standing ovation when Uma finishes her song, while reaching for a tissue of course.

Indra (B. Gopal, 2002)

by Shivani Vikuntam

Historically, the caste system in India has allowed for a very prominent social hierarchy to be present. This hierarchy has seeped into the lives of the every day Indian. The film Indra, depicts a classist struggle while being cloaked as an Action/Romance film. Indra Is a 2002 Telugu film, and it was directed by B. Gopal. The film is split in thirds, with the center part depicting events from the past. This is an important film to watch as it addresses social differences. Certain parts of South India are known for their tendency to be very violent. There, violence is the answer to achieving one’s desires. If there is a dispute over land or anything else, the solution somehow involves intimidation, threats, and violence. This film addresses that issue and points out how useless that tactic is in the short term and in the long term.

At its core, the film is the story of two feuding families. The families are constantly at war, and finally find a solution for peace in the form of a wedding between the two families. This newfound peace lasts until the wedding night when the wife poisons the husband, recreating the war between the families. This feud spans generations until it finally arrives at the hero, Indra Reddy.  He is well liked and takes care of the village people. His enemy, Shankarnath manages to drive Indra out of the village. Shankarnath is a violent villain who goes so far as to murder his own young child because Indra saved him from being hit by a bus. The film addresses many social topics.

Early on in the film, the hero, Indra, is close to fighting a local Islamic man over a love scandal in their families. Indra takes that moment to call peace between the two families, and states that just because they are Hindu and Muslim, it does not mean they cannot live as friends and in peace. This is an interesting tactic to speak to the viewer about the relationship between the two religions. It promotes the idea of peace and kindness amongst the two, and also shows that the political issues between both religions has affected people in South India as well.

The film does an excellent job of pointing out the disparities between the wealthy class and the impoverished class. In one scene, Indra’s family is throwing colored water on each other for Holi, and a peasant states that it’s amazing this wealthy family is doing that while there is a draught in the village and people are dying. Upon hearing this, Indra uses his money to help build a reservoir to collect water for the villagers. Indra uses nationalism and love for the land to explain why it is necessary for people to take care of their country. Indra is also from a royal and wealthy family and that is seen through his home. It is an expansive mansion in his village, and he lives with every comfort. However, when it comes time for him to save the villagers, he sacrifices his comfort and leaves the village. He moves from Andra Pradesh, to Varanasi where he works as a common taxi driver and lives in a small home. This shows the viewer that happiness is not correlated with wealth.

Of course, as many Indian films do, this film included song and dance numbers. During the scenes in the present, the song and dance numbers were heavily focused on European scenery and fantasy landscapes. However, during the flashback, the song and dance numbers were in the rural village settings and focused on more traditional clothing and music. This aided the viewer in differentiating the times.

Additionally, the film uses the scenery of rural south India as often as it can. The disparities in wealth are conveyed through the visual scenes of mansions and shacks, kings and cab drivers, and governors and peasants. While watching the film, whenever there are interactions between two people of different castes or classes, the camera is careful to remain at the same height while filming and depicting both characters. The only time this changes is when the hero, Indra, is conversing with the villain, Shankarnath. When this occurs, the camera angel faces up while filming the hero, so it is as if the viewer is literally looking up to him. And while filming the villain, the camera is angled downward, so the viewer is looking down on him. This technique subtly explains to the viewer that people who are selfless and respectful should be valued and looked up to.

A major attribute to this film is its tendency to rely heavily on violence. At any moment’s notice, a man can pull a knife out of his shirt and begin attacking people. This film addresses the issues with violence in southern India in an interesting manner. The two feuding families use violence and murder as solutions to appease their respective families, yet this does nothing but cause more murder and violence. This back and forth spans generations, and the viewer cannot help but notice that no good comes from the violence. Instead, the viewer notices that the characters live happier when they promote love and respect.

This film promotes the importance of family and love, through this long feud. The scenes of sheer violence and bloodshed also show how a character will fight for their family and their family’s honor. The solution to the issues is mutual respect and love, which is only discovered through open communication and conversation. It took the entire film, and several hundred deaths for this peace to occur, but it draws on the point that often one’s first response to anger is violence, and that it should not be.

I chose this film because the area of South India that is known to be violent is actually where my father is from. My father’s family promoted education for several generations, which is why I never understood why his village was associated with violence. Yet even today, when I visit that area in India, you can see the remnants of a violent past in the historical weapons that are often seen lying abandoned. The issue of violence is still rampant in many parts of India. Often times, movies add violence to make the hero seem more manly or heroic. This has caused viewers to feel that they must be violent in order to be heroic. Villains who use evil tactics to hurt people, such as pouring acid on a woman’s face, have sparked ideas in common people in India. This tendency to lean towards violence is harmful and wrong. Movies such as Indra explain how violence is a vicious cycle. It is important to watch this film as it shows how far fetched ideas such as love can actually be used as a solution to violence and evil. Additionally, Indra does an excellent job of showing how wealth can be used to aid lower-class people and ultimately change and save lives.

Anand (Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1971)

by Sanchit Jain

Anand (d. Hrishikesh Mukherjee, 1971) follows the final months of the life of Anand (Rajesh Khanna). Arriving in Mumbai and in the lives of Drs. Bhaskar Banerjee (Amitabh Bachchan) and Prakash Kulkarni (Ramesh Deo), Anand is shown to be a lighthearted and cheerful man, willing to talk to and befriend anyone.

The movie begins with the framing narrative – Bhaskar wins a literary award (a familiar format that we also see in Deewar) for a book he has written. He emphasizes that the book simply comprises the recordings of the last few months of Anand’s life. The book is titled ‘Anand’. The audience is made to wonder what the Anand in the movie title signifies. Is the movie about the novel, through which we are introduced to Anand? Is it about Anand himself? Or is it about the more abstract notion of happiness? There is no singular answer. The character Anand occupies the protagonist’s role and is thus integral to the narrative. But the movie is also about the joy (Anand) he spreads. Finally, the narrative is interspersed with scenes of Bhaskar writing the diary that ultimately becomes his book. In doing so, Bhaskar transforms Anand’s life into a text from which we can all draw lessons. It also immortalizes his character and ebullient optimism.

We are simultaneously introduced to Anand and his fatal disease (lymphosarcoma of the intestine). The ending of the movie seems to be known to all, even if minor characters like Suman (Seema Deo) harbor the hope that Anand will survive, primarily through faith. In a sense, this narrative mirrors one of the most fundamental conventions in Hindi cinema. The audience knows the general ending or resolution of most movies, but they insist on watching them. Why? What matters is the journey – and this is exactly why one must watch Anand as well. There is much to learn from Anand’s journey to the end.

The movie is no more than 122 minutes (the editing is tight and neither half feels stretched). In this time, we are shown Anand befriending strangers on the road (using the hilarious Murarilal ploy), attempting to romance young women, singing heartfelt songs and cracking jokes, making himself and everyone around him laugh. Anand summarizes his philosophy in his dialogue, “Agar zinda rehna zaroori hai, toh aadmi haste zinda rahe.” While watching the movie, one recalls the saying that laughter is the best medicine. Repeatedly, Bhaskar recognizes this in Anand’s personality – he identifies his strength in his ability to laugh and make others laugh with him.

Crucially, this ability of Anand’s transcends class (he touches the life of Bhaskar’s servant), culture and religion. Coming from Delhi, he moves a Maharashtrian couple (Prakash and Suman), a Punjabi wrestling master (Dara Singh) and a Bengali doctor (Bhaskar), thus overcoming linguistic and cultural barriers. In accepting the character of the stern matron (a Christian) as his mother, that of Issa Bhai (a Muslim played by Johnny Walker) as his teacher and that of Suman (a Hindu) as his sister, Anand overcomes the barrier of religion that has so often divided India. Anand plays a unifying role that is critical, given the sociopolitical tumult of the 1960s (with two wars and Nehru's death).

In situating Anand in a world of medical professionals, the movie is clearly thinking about the means of bettering someone’s life. The doctors offer one method: the discipline of medicine. Interestingly, we first see Bhaskar disillusioned with medicine because it can’t cure large systemic problems like poverty or caste issues. But the true insurmountable challenge for Bhaskar is Anand’s case. Other patients are minor characters that have no true ailments, but who want medicine and will not leave until these desires are satisfied. Even if Anand wanted medicine, however, he would not be able to get it. As Issa Bhai says, there is one disease without cure – cancer. The irony is not lost on the audience. In fact, this heightens the audience’s and characters’ sympathy towards Anand. It also raises the question of the purpose of medicine. The movie seems to make the statement that there are limits to what medicine can do. If someone is terminally ill, medicine cannot help. And in that situation, one must search for other means (perhaps laughter) of improving one’s condition.

The characters in the movie have been carefully constructed. Rajesh Khanna plays Anand masterfully, never allowing for the audience to doubt the genuineness of Anand’s desire to spread joy. There are times when the character requires Khanna to be vulnerable and express sorrow. Anand’s life has seen much sorrow, including the trauma of Partition. The movie lauds his reaction to such sorrow, as is seen when Issa Bhai appreciatively observes, “Dukh apne liye rakh, anand sabke liye.” Anand’s vulnerability is best seen in the song, ‘Zindagi Kaisi Hai Paheli.’ In this song, Anand ruefully expresses the truly puzzling nature of life, which refuses to give him health, as he seems to deserve more than anyone else. As is fitting given the somber mood of the film, there are no fantastical song sequences.  Amitabh Bachchan embodies the timidity and reluctance of Bhaskar’s character well, despite a few awkwardly stiff scenes. The female characters of Suman and Renu (Sumita Sanyal) are under-utilized but effective.

The ending of the movie is especially poetic. Anand passes away, while we hear the recording of Bhaskar’s poem ‘Maut Tu Ek Kavita Hai.’ Bhaskar walks in on already dead Anand and begs him to speak, at which point Anand’s final recording plays. The recording of Anand’s voice emphasizes what the movie attempts to say: death can come at any time and so what matters is not the quantity but the quality of one’s life. And with that, the tape, like Anand’s life, and the movie and novel on his life, ends.

When Bhaskar hears Anand sing the melancholic 'Kaheen Door Jab Din Dhal Jaye,' he remarks that the song is "beautiful, but sad." And this sums up the movie perfectly. "Beautiful, but sad."