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

Armaan (2003)

The unexpectedly true-to-life "It's midday and I've had 2 glasses of wine and you're looking pretty fly" scene. When did we fall into a French sex drama!?

Armaan (Desire) could have comfortably been many other films. It could have been a film from 1956, starring Prithviraj Kapoor and Raj Kapoor as the father-son duo. Or it could have been made in 1977, with Sanjeev Kumar as the patient and put-upon Akash Sinha and maybe Shashi Kapoor as the dallying pediatrician Sanjay - Rekha could have been the crazy lady, and Jaya Bachchan the sane one.

It's already been made in Japan by acclaimed director, Akira Kurosawa, where all the same themes - the wise, humanist pater familias doctor, his team of doctor underlings, the romance, the melodrama, the sweeping shots of mountain vistas - were present. And we got a distinctly European vibe from the movie too - maybe something French and a little family-unfriendly. No wonder they sent it to Cannes.


This is my empowered female gesture. I will bare my shoulders. I will kick your ass, professionally.

A little bit all of these things, with a dash of filmi masala, Armaan is a very familiar story. Elder Dr. Siddarth Sinha (Amitabh Bachchan, in a terrible wig) is the standard kind-hearted, humanist country doctor. His adopted son is Dr. Akash Sinha (Anil Kapoor), who shares basically all the same qualities - good heart, good work ethic, pure vanilla inside. These two bachelors live and work in their beloved country hospital and, when not saving poor little old ladies, they like to jam on the violin and - BANE OF ALL INSTRUMENTS - saxophone.

One day, the cute new anesthetist arrives, Dr. Neha Mathur (Gracy Singh). Neha and Akash butt heads for a bit, but quickly fall in love. They are, after all, carbon copies of the same, personality-less being. Their romance, which begins to look more and more like a heavily Photoshopped L.L. Bean catalog, features such vanilla courtship rituals as: watching waterfalls, examining flowers, having picnics on blankets and wicker chairs. YAWN. (What? After the drug-addled Anil and Rani licking cream off each other's faces in Nayak, it's a bit hard to see the two doctors as anything more than incredibly, tortuously dull.)

The random agent arrives in the form of spoiled, OTT rich girl Sonia Kapoor (Preity Zinta) - daughter of tycoon Gulshan Kapoor (a sweetly elderly Randhir Kapoor). Sonia is introduced to us as bored, Westernized and a little crazy. She immediately takes a fancy to Akash - is it the mustache? his studly righteousness? who knows! - and proceeds to pounce him.

We'll stop there. Something then happens - which, if you know movies, shouldn't be very surprising - and, as has happened before in other Anil movies, Akash ends up whoring himself out for his ideals. Tears flow, etcetera.


Awww, Randhir! So gosh-darned adorable and paternal!

This film is unique for having a distinctly non-Hindi feel to it. The first act, especially, could have been a British doctor drama. All the actors were subdued, nuanced and highly naturalist. It wasn't until the token vamp, Sonia Kapoor, showed up that things went a bit more masala. Even those early songs, like we said, were less Swiss-top romp, more Abercrombie & Fitch ad. We were really impressed with the performances - especially, of all people, Amitabh. Yes, Amitabh! Amitabh is such a force of personality that we always feel the weight of his superstardom in all of his films. In his recent attempts to go a bit off-beat - Black, for example - he always came across as a bit self-indulgent. Instead, in this film, he is a pleasant surprise - subtle and natural. His performance reminded us (indeed, the whole film did) of his work in H. Mukherjee's Mili - another "middle-class" Hindi film.


The Scene of Maximum Awkwardness. Nota bene that the guy on the far-right is the modern-day masala Shashi. We kept waiting for him to wobble his head slowly and croak, "Arreeee...Baaaaaat kya hai, yaar?"

Anil is, again, incapable of doing any wrong. Although in the end, after all the drama had resolved itself, we realized just how incredibly dull his character was, we still enjoyed watching him work his usual magic. And we are once again impressed by his choices - every film we've seen this week has been a distinctly different role and context, and he's thrived in all of them. Vah! Preity Zinta did very well considering her thankless role. She did the thing that everyone went crazy for Ellen Page doing in Juno - that is, she used the spaces between the beats to paint her picture. It was a very "read between the lines" performance - a pained glance quickly smothered by another forced, evil smile - stuff like that. Gracy Singh, unfortunately, couldn't revive her character from the depths of dullness in the same way Anil did his. Aamir Bashi, as we said, was basically playing a late 70s Shashi Kapoor... which only made us miss late 70s Shashi. (SHAAAASHIIII!!! KAHAN HO TUM!?!) Actually, speaking of the khandaan, Shashi's nephew Randhir was nice to see. Like brother Rishi, we prefer when that Kapoor generation plays paternal, 50+ roles. They're just so gosh-darned cute!

There were some things we liked a lot about the film. We liked the easy, taken-for-granted non-filmi-ness of it. Good girl Gracy wore jeans and tank tops, wasn't pressured to get married, shed only minimal filmi tears - she even gets a self-reference, "Oh gosh, I thought they only do that in Hindi films!" Ha! There were more hyperrealist touches: the doctors' on-going cricket commentary in the washroom, for example. Another thing we liked was Honey Irani's direction; her use of lighting, while stark, was very impressive at times (e.g. the soft glow of lanterns and the distant twinkle of soft-focus fireworks in this song (which has some spoilers)). Also, sometimes the acting was re-eally real. The scene when Sonia comes onto Akash at the party was surprisingly true-to-life, with that vibe of semi-tipsy flirtatiousness.


This is the lighting we're talking about.


And here. Gosh, that's lovely. Impressionist!

However, there were some things we didn't particularly like. Since the film seemed to start on an intentionally un-filmi route, every sign of filminess - things we usually tolerate with benign, knowing patience - became a flaw. The fact that Amitabh apparently has no idea how to play the violin. The fact that Anil Kapoor removes his mask in the operating room when brains are still exposed to bellow something (doesn't he worry about spittle, for the love of God?!). The fact that Sonia is such a shamelessly shallow vamp. The glaring plot holes, inconsistencies, and needless drama. Gosh darned it, Honey, if you wanted something un-filmi, you should have made it all un-filmi! For example, leave out the songs. With the exception of Preity's excellent come-on "love me or I'll kill myself" song, most of the other songs - especially the boring people in boring love one - were forgettable throwaways that made the narrative stutter and clunk around. The film could have easily dropped them, to its benefit.

Why should I love: Amitabh Bachchan?

The fourth installment in our Why should I love? series. We initially were very anti-Amitabh, but we've come around since then - oh, how we've come around.



Why should I love: Amitabh Bachchan?

1. You should love Amitabh because sometimes he gets so excited by your qawwali that he starts singing the refrain.

2. You should love Amitabh because he's not above disguising himself in order to settle a marriage.

3. You should love Amitabh because he has great bedside manner.

4. You should love Amitabh because he is anti-dowry.

5. You should love Amitabh because he sometimes teams up with PRAN!!!

6. You should love Amitabh because sometimes he gets so involved in your ghazal singing that he finishes the whole song.

7. You should love Amitabh because, like Shashi, he cares about worker's rights.

8. You should love Amitabh because he is capable of being a compelling narrator even when not actually narrating.

9. You should love Amitabh because he puts Bruce Lee posters up on his walls.

10. You should love Amitabh because he dishes out revenge like it was a Monopoly game.

Drunk-Off: I'm not act, I'm drunking!

Memsaab's hilarious gift and our last review reminded us of a project we had waiting in the wings:



Readers of the PPCC became all manner of upset during the various Dance Off!!s - whining and complaining that their favorite actor wasn't well represented, that the PPCC was dictatorial, that the contest was a sham.

Well, the PPCC doesn't take such accusations lightly. Our reputation was at stake! So we decided to take care of it... tomorrow.

That was several months ago. Anyway, the inspiration for the Drunk Off (!!) was actually Swayamvar. A Friend of the PPCC and the PPCC were watching the hilarities, and the Friend of the PPCC (FOF-PPCC) commented, "Hmm, he's really a ham." The "ham" in question being our beloved Shashi Kapoor. Quick to defend our sab se bara hiro, the PPCC exclaimed, "Well, acting drunk is difficult!" FOF-PPCC agreed, saying, "Indeed. Perhaps that's a true measure of an actor's greatness." A light dawned. Yes, we thought, yes! It is!

The PPCC knows and loves four Indian actors most of all: Shah Rukh Khan, Amitabh Bachchan, Naseeruddin Shah, and our beloved Shashi Kapoor. All four have had notable scenes of drunkenness. They will thus now compete. For those of you that couldn't stand to see Shashi lose, here's your chance!

But first...

To open the proceedings, we turn to:

• the hauntingly beautiful (and much-covered) Between the Bars by the late Elliott Smith;
  
• the wonderfully bizarre and lyrical (and also much-covered) Jockey Full of Bourbon by Tom Waits;
  
• one of Rumi's poems

1. Shah Rukh Khan.
Things to note: By most accounts, SRK doesn't drink and is therefore unaware of what drunkenness feels like. This would explain his complete inability to play drunk realistically, and his frequent choice of just hamming it up like a piece of sinful ham.



Nonetheless we must admit that this song from Devdas is very appealing; as all things SRK, it is wonderfully choreographed, boisterous fun. Toss realism out the window and let's dance, yaar! Kudos also to Sanjay Leela Bhansali for lurching cameras which make us dizzy. And to Madhuri and Jackie, just because we like them so gosh darned much in this song.


2. Amitabh Bachchan

Drunken Amitabh scenes usually feature a very tearful, sweaty-faced Amitabh. We don't know what this is about. Why so much moisture? What is he so upset about? Even when he's supposed to be happy, he looks upset! See Silsila, Amar Akbar Anthony and Suhaag for notable Amitabh scenes of drunkenry. We take our song, however, from the end-all, be-all of Amitabh drunkenry, Sharaabi (Alcoholic).



Despite being similar to SRK's spin-top OTTness, the PPCC loves this song and loves it when the brass band kicks in. And when Amitabh blows a kiss to the audience?! Best moment ever. And, OK, the song itself is actually pretty spectacular overall: Give us some love, love, love, love... O de de pyaar de pyaar de...


3. Shashi Kapoor

Shashi Kapoor, who straddled mainstream Bollywood, Western Orientalist films and Hindi arthouse, certainly displayed a great range of drunkenness. He could play it like a ham, he could play it relatively subtle, he could play it a bit more Orientalized (Welcome to India!). Etcetera etcetera etcetera!

Like Amitabh's song, we take our Shashi song from the end-all, be-all of Shashi drunkenry, Naina.



We think these two get extra points just for gettin' down with their bad selves. And for Shashi's bizarre "Naughty!" and general lecherousness and undercurrent of sweet, sweet sadness.


4. Naseeruddin Shah

OK, as usual, Naseeruddin Shah just shames everyone else with his nuanced, ultra-realist performances. Even in a relatively mainstream film such as Naajayaz, in what is essentially a remake of Amitabh's De De Pyaar De, Naseer still manages to make things real, mostly by underplaying it. And never mind that it's such a pretty song... Abhi zinda huun, to ji lene do! Bhari barsaat mein pi lene do! I'm still alive, so let me live! It's raining hard, so let me drink!



And if that doesn't convince you, Naseer has another excellent drunken song in that film of legendary sweetness, Masoom:




The vote!

Now it's your turn, democracy lovers! While the PPCC will try to sway you (vote Naseer), it is up to YOU to click the right button on the right-hand side poll. Happy voting!

Update!

The votes are in and, yea, all is right with the world, for our beloved Shashi Kapoor has been recognized for the talent that he is! Who else can play a fabulous variety of drunken people? No one, the PPCC voter declares.

1. Shashi Kapoor (41%)
2. Shah Rukh Khan (27%)
3. Amitabh Bachchan (21%)
4. Naseeruddin Shah (10%)

Mard (1985)

Your usual cliché "carve the film's title in the baby's chest" thing.

What is left to say about Manmohan Desai's most over-the-top of over-the-top films, Mard (Man)? We direct you, in particular, to the reviews of Prof. Lutgendorf and BollyBob - both reviews amply demonstrate how incomprehensibly insane this film is. This is a film that makes LSD trips like Namak Halaal look as tame and predictable as lunch at my grandmother's. This is a film that broadcasts crazy in a way we didn't think possible. Like crop circle, tin hat, rivers of crazy, crazy.


Your standard super-intelligent and very polite tiger. How trite.

We at the PPCC are generally not fans of laughing at films in an ironic, semi-derisive way. We think that's unfair. A lot of work goes into making a film. Often it feels like you're laughing at the film's low budget.

But Manmohan Desai's Mard doesn't seem to go for any other response. Who is the target audience for a film like this? Desai - an imaginative, visually clever director who brought us the joys of Suhaag and Amar Akbar Anthony - is so intentionally over-the-top, it feels like he is very obviously not trying to suspend our disbelief. Dogs that whistle? British colonialists that suck the blood out of enslaved Indians? Statues coming to life?


A colonial British costume drama set in... two different centuries.

There is narry a serious peg to hang the audience's heart on. Instead, we are treated to such a spectacle of slapstick gore and perverse horror-comedy, that sometimes we laughed, but more often we were just like... WTF. Amitabh and Amrita's whole sadomasochistic romp, complete with whipping and rubbing salt in each other's wounds, was like... just WTF.

The narrative structure is fairly normal, by masala standards. Cue prologue. Once upon a time, evil British imperialists ruled the land. In particular, they harassed the noble King Azad Singh (Dara Singh) and his wife, Durga (Nirupa Roy), to no end. One day, when British forces were looming ever-closer, Azad sent his wife and baby son to safety. There, through a series of Desai-ian coincidences, the son was inadvertently adopted by an earnest, hard-working couple (Seema Deo and lovely Satyendra Kapoor, more on Satyendra later), while ever-suffering Nirupa Roy lost her voice from all that wailing. Yes, really.


The composition of this scene demonstrates that, despite everything, Manmohan Desai was a very sane director.

The trio of bumbling, über-sadistic villains - Dr. Harry (Prem Chopra), Gen. Dyer (!!!) (Narang from Don), and The Only White Guy (Bob Christo) - spend a lot of time plotting ways to make Indians suffer. Meanwhile, Azad's righteous baby grows up into the mardly Raju (Amitabh Bachchan), friend of dog and horse alike. When Raju runs into Dr. Harry's spoiled heiress daughter, Ruby (Amrita Singh), sparks - and salt - and whips - fly. Clearly, they are on their way to love. But alas, the Evil Trio are intent on ruining things, and they shuttle Ruby off to marry General Dyer's sadistic son, Danny (Dan Dhanoa), who runs a bizarre quasi-concentration camp where he makes Indians work until they drop, and then bleeds them in a forced blood drive for the "British soldiers in Burma". What?


Danny Dyer. He does a lot of cackling.


Poor Nirupa, losing her voice. At least now we get a temporary respite from her lecturing us.

The film's drama follows the usual tropes of saving Ruby from a dire (no pun intended) fate, and reuniting Raju with his biological parents. Meanwhile, as Rum rightly notes, Shashi Kapoor makes a cameo as a statue.

Hmm. In most other masala film reviews, we would then write "Much drama of the usual kind ensues." But not this one. Oh ho. The drama that ensues here is not predictable, logical, or usual, unless you happen to be from the land of crazy.


This whole sequence was kinda scandalous.


But hey, if that's what floats Amitabh's boat, whatever.

We were very excited to see this film, ever since reading the Prof. Lutgendorf and BollyBob reviews and ever since the poll results came in, so we're disappointed to report that we came away disappointed. Maybe we just weren't in the mood, fresh as we were from a purifying weekend uniting us with nature and river currents. We were in the mood for something calm and quiet, something, perhaps, starring Shashi Kapoor in a moustache with graying temples. We were not wholly emotionally prepared for the zaniness of Mard.


Amitabh looked positively studly, what with his Byronic drama in Maa Sherwali.

In particular, Mard was missing one of our favorite ingredients of masala films: big, squishy, masala dil. The appeal of director Desai's Suhaag, our all-time favorite masala movie, has often been the ultimate redemption of the neglectful father. We like to see characters be redeemed. We also like to see them be reunited, cry, appreciate their parents, overcome problems. Some of the usual masala dil is certainly present in Mard, but often it's overshadowed by the cartoonish demonization of the villains, the protracted humiliation of the good guys, and the colorfully violent revenges.

The demonization of the British in this film is thankfully too OTT to be taken seriously, though we did think the references to General Dyer were a little tasteless. At least, they made us squirm in the same way that The Producers makes us squirm - i.e. intentionally scandalous piss-taking of disturbing historical figures.

In terms of the music, three of the songs stuck out as being oddly compelling, in that they suddenly seemed quite earnest in this sea of tongue-in-cheek madness: like Prof. Lutgendorf, we noted Boori Nazarwale as being quite a heartfelt plea for the rich villains to grow a conscious. Ham To Tamboo Mein was a lot of fun - coming right on the heels of a scene between Prem Chopra and Amitabh Bachchan that made us laugh very hard - and with Amitabh wearing a goofily adorable moustache while flexing his shoulders in that charismatic way of his. But our favorite song was definitely Amitabh's wailing, despairing, FEEL THE DRAMAing Jai Mata Di. We love the intensity with which he throws himself into it; man, that's 110%! And he lights a lamp in his palm? Uhh, yes, Amitabh is a clearly the baddest of them all.


The very silly mirroring scene that we're embarrassed to admit made us laugh really hard. And if Prem Chopra improvised that he is a GENIUS.

About the performances: first and foremost, this film is the Amitabh Bachchan show. He displays his great Bachchanly range - we've always loved him when he does comedy - and you cannot help but root for him. Go, man, go! If anything, we just wish he had had more time to dance, since, like David Chute says, we love to watch Amitabh Bachchan dance. In a great, go girl power move, Amrita Singh generally matched her macho boytoy in terms of gutsy kick-assery - except for the (unfortunately) typical "silly, coy, and helpless" routines she had to pull now and again. Special note must be made of Prem Chopra and extra special note must be made of Satyendra Kapoor. Prem Chopra, one of those villains we usually don't love to hate but just plain hate, surprised us by making us laugh really, really hard during his whole drunken bhang mirror routine. And Satyendra! Ahh, Satyendra. Satyendra is actually one of the PPCC's underappreciated favorites. For those that don't recognize the name, he was the put-upon father in Deewaar, the put-upon miner in Kaala Patthar, and assorted put-upon policemen and father figures in your 70s masala fare. He long since burrowed his way into the PPCC's affections by playing earnest, decent fellows - and in Mard, he gets to really kick ass. Yeah!


Yeah, Satyendra! Satyendra! Gruff yet lovable father figure!


Dispenser of justice! Kicker of scary eyebrowless giants' butts! Yeah!

Mili (1975)

She's going, "SQUEEE!"

What interested the PPCC about Mili was not the cliché plot (2) about the boisterous, full-of-life cancer victim who teaches the brooding hero what it means to live. What interested us was that the brooding hero at one point attempts to commit suicide. First, we've never seen an attempted suicide on Hindi celluloid. We've heard characters talk about suicide, but they were always accompanied by the Blaring Horns of Taboo. Second, the thematic jumbliness - with one character loving life and dying despite herself, and another character hating it and surviving despite himself - had such an ironic and poignant structure that we thought, This the PPCC must see!

All of the action in Mili takes place in and around a sunny apartment complex near the Bombay airport. Although the apartment building is large and anonymous-looking, most of the residents know each other, and everyone knows Mili (Jaya Bhaduri/Bachchan). Mili, the young daughter of Mr. Khanna (Ashok Kumar), is everyone's ray of sunshine. She is stubbornly upbeat, even in the face of a mysterious illness which, in the beginning, is only alluded to. One day, a new tenant buys the terrace apartment upstairs and moves in. The building's main gossip quickly calls a meeting and informs everyone of two key points:

1. New tenant is the son of so-and-so, who did such-and-such a horrible thing. Yeah yeah, remember? Yeah, as a result, new tenant just gets wasted all the time and is clearly a h8r. (This rumor is interestingly undermined later on; and the ambiguity of what really happened makes things even more tragic. Or did we miss something?)
2. New tenant is also hot.

Hmm, brooding and yet hot? Angry and yet appealing? Why, it could only be a young Amitabh Bachchan! Indeed, Amitabh moves in with his elderly man-nanny (manny?), Gopi, in tow, and proceeds to rain on everyone's parade. He does not allow the children to play on the terrace, like they used to. He yells at people. He gets wasted at odd hours and breaks things made of glass.


Gosh, if you weren't so tall, dark and handsome, Amitabh, we'd be really annoyed.

Of course - and don't pretend you're not just salivating for it to happen! - Mili and Amitabh eventually become close. First, Mili instructs the kids to blast Amitabh with their rays of cuteness, and, despite himself, Amitabh is cutified. Second, Mili is one of the few people who manages NOT to say insensitive things about Amitabh's parents, and Amitabh is duly appreciative. Third, and here's the clinker, one evening Amitabh gets totally wasted and slashes his wrists. Mili and her father are called upstairs by Gopi to help, and Mili has to hold Amitabh's wrist. The next day, visibly embarrassed, Amitabh attempts to recoil back into his shell, but Mili's casual compassion and easy-going optimism break his armor like Saladin breaking Jerusalem's walls in 1187. Soon enough, Mili's coming over to Amitabh's house for stargazing and philosophical conversation, and with time, the two are holding hands.

Let's just take a minute: Awwwww! Come on, you'd have to have a heart of stone not to just feel all warm and cuddly by this point!


The slashed wrist scene.


The morning after. Note the parallels in camera angle and sitting positions. The scene is also played very poignantly. Amitabh's a poor, hurt dear.

Anyway, it is now Narrative Time for Mili to become very ill, which she does. We don't want to give anything away from now on, but let's say that the dennouement feels very real, and the ending in particular rings true. Expect no melodrama, despite the long illustrious history of Hindi melodrama. Quite the opposite! This film is soaked in emotional realism, even approaching La stanza del figlio at times. Even though Mili does all the things terminally ill people in movies typically do - wearing a brave face, refusing help, wasting away in a Victorian gothic way - it all feels genuinely poignant. Amitabh's behavior is likewise unexpectedly real. Of course, this makes it impossible not to cry, at least a little.


We really like Ashok Kumar in paternal roles.

It's interesting to watch early Jaya roles. We were first introduced to her in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham and then Silsila, both roles in which she's portrayed as a very conservative maternal figure. Sure, she smiled, but mostly she didn't. What's surprising (and delightful!) is how fun Jaya was back in the day: from her fast-talking tough girl in Zanjeer, to the perky (in a good way) Mili, to the bit in the flashback in Sholay. It was like she was another person! Small, vibrant, excitable, and indeed a perfect foil against the tall, unmovable broodingness of Amitabh. I guess they've both mellowed considerably now, it makes you forget what a great duo they made back in the day.

Onto Amitabh. Well, he was as expected. Angry with a heart of gold. Tall, dark and handsome. We miss Shashi. But I guess you can't have everything.

What's especially interesting about this film is that it's almost like a proto-Parallel Cinema film - intelligent, subtle, real - and yet it's so, well, mainstream. But it's the type of film that the PPCC expected Naseeruddin Shah and Shabana Azmi to make (and, indeed, they too have covered the territory of health and romance and suburban India). It's also astoundingly short, coming in just under the 2 hour mark. Use this to ease your non-Hindi friends into the powers of Amitabh and Jaya. Edited to add: OK, so Prof. Lutgendorf's review of Anari cleared a lot of our misunderstanding re: this film. Like Anari, this film was directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee, who specialized in "middle class" films - not quite bombastically populist like the good ol' masala movies, but neither quite so cerebral as Shyam Benegal and the Parallel crowd. Ooh, got it.

Amar Akbar Anthony (1977)

Amaaaaarakbaaaaarantoneeeeeee.

There's not much left for the PPCC to say on Manmohan Desai's classic extravaganza, Amar Akbar Anthony (or, thanks to the titular song's refrain, as we keep calling it: "Amaaaaarakbaaaaarantoneeeee"). Everyone's already covered every single thing we wanted to say. Carla has already noted the sweetness of Hamko Tumse Ho Gaya, the sweetness of Rishi Kapoor, and Shabana doing laundry. Bollyweird's review has already looked at the narrative structure and the gender issues. And, of course, Philip Lutgendorf's review has basically said everything and anything that the PPCC could have possibly thought was relevant, and done it in a more informed way, too. Not only that! But everyone seems to have screencapped the same scenes, so even that we could not give you!

Well, goodness, the PPCC fretted. Maybe we shouldn't even review this movie!?

But then we thought, NO, we cannot deny our loyal readership a movie review simply because we're not the first ones to gush about it. Similarly, we've recently ordered a ton of really obscure Shashi movies (justifiably, by the looks of 'em), so we'll have ample untreaded territory to tread soon enough. Ergo, voila.


Rrrrright!

Amar Akbar Anthony is the story of three brothers, separated as children: Amar, Akbar, and Anthony. By a series of circumstances that only Manmohan Desai, in his infinite genius, could cook up, each boy has been raised by someone of a different religion. Eldest son Amar is raised by a Hindu policeman, and he becomes the usual upright, middle class maintainer of mainstream Hindu India played ironically by current BJP politician, Vinod Khanna (see Prof. Lutgendorf's review for lots more interesting stuff on the whole religious majority/minority issue). Middle son Anthony is raised by a Catholic priest, and he becomes a super-trendy (like SUPER SUPER trendy), super-rascally, Anglicized, Goanized Amitabh Bachchan. This movie is worth its price alone for Amitabh's performance. The third son, Akbar, is raised by a Muslim tailor, and he too becomes a stereotype of his religious minority: a passionate romancer Insha'Allah-ing left and right, also SUPER SUPER trendy, and a bad-ass qawwali singer, played by a (surprisingly lovable! more below) Rishi Kapoor.

The trio's parents are - of course - the inimitable, the wonderful, the perfection on celluloid PRAN (!!!), and Nirupa Roy. Did Nirupa Roy ever not play a mother? Discuss.


OMG! You make Pran suffer? You pay!!


One of our favorite moments: these two are so stylish!

The trio's religious-appropriate heroines are: plucky Neetu Singh for Akbar/Rishi (of course), gorgeous Anglicized bombshell Parveen Babi for Anthony/Amitabh (of course), and comes-already-domesticated good Indian wife Shabana Azmi for Amar/Vinod (yeah, Shabinod!). Alas, unsurprisingly, the heroines are given little to do apart from get into trouble and be rescued.

Any masala fan will know that despite the film's wildly veering path, we are sure to end up at a dennouement which involves fisticuffs, villains getting their comeuppance, and the family's reunion. So what can the PPCC say that hasn't already been said? Well, not much. But we'll try. Here goes:

1. Have you ever noticed that Rishi Kapoor's camera is really awesome?


Why, Rishi, is that a Lubitel in your hand or are you just happy to see me?

2. OMG but have you ever noticed that Rishi Kapoor is super trendy and super awesome in this?


Rishi, you are KICKIN' it.

Maybe we were wrong about Rishi. The first time we saw him (in Kabhi Kabhie), we hated him with a passion. Then we saw him in Fanaa and softened considerably, figuring it was just because he was more suited as a father figure than a romantic hero. He impressed us mightily in Duniya Meri Jeb Mein, but we still thought he looked like an idiot. But mayhap anyone would look like an idiot next to the fire of the Shash.

Ergo, what a pleasant surprise to see how fashionably awesome Rishi is in this! Apart from being an infinitely lovable, infinitely sweet bad-ass, his wardrobe also stands the test of time very well. Sure, Amitabh's kicking it in Coptic crosses and leather jackets and floppy hats, but at times he seems a little ridiculous. But Rishi! With his pencil-thin moustache and mad hair and floral-patterned see-through shirts. OMG he looks FAB! We don't mean that ironically, we mean that genuinely!

3. OMG they just mentioned the World Bank?!

Did they really mean the World Bank?! THE World Bank?! Did the movie just suddenly acquire an incredibly contextual, realist detail?!

4. Hey, so Vinod is super-fit.


Vinod challenges Amitabh.


Amitabh agrees to the challenge.

Check out his bod. Yeah.

And we love that he kicks ass. Sure, it's also because he's the eldest son and ergo it is proper that he kick even lambu Amitabh's ass, but, actually, we've never seen Vinod lose in a fight. Consider: he is introduced to us as a fighting man whose brawny skills impress Amitabh in Muqaddar ka Sikandar; even Shashi cannot sway Vinod from his path in Chor Sipahee when Shashi smashes a chair on Vinod's head - to no effect!

5. PRAN!!!

PRAN!!!

6. Consider Hamko Tumse Ho Gaya, our favorite song, as an exploration of typical romantic ideals.

In this song, the three brothers have fallen in love with their respective heroines. Though they all say basically the same thing, the brother's language reflects their upbringing: Christian Anthony using English phrases (including our favorite: "God promise, main saach bola huun!"), Hindu Amar using Sanscritized-sounding Hindi and swearing by Ram, and Muslim Akbar favoring Urdu words and a cool qawwali beat.

But apart from the narrative structure, each brother represents a stereotypical "love" ideal appropriate to their status in the family. Older brother Amar's ideal is domestic bliss; he reads a book in the hammock, she takes the laundry in. Middle brother Anthony gets the highly cliché romantic love: horse-drawn carriage, sunset, beach. And meanwhile, baby brother Akbar gets a muppety, raucous, joyous puppy-love ideal: cavorting with Neetu atop a moving train.

Whatever your preference, you are satisfied! The PPCC personally prefers Shabinod's set-up, because you can have fun cavorting atop trains with anyone, but domestic bliss comes only with real, honest-to-God love. Remember, our favorite scene in Swayamvar was when Shashi and Moushimi enter domestic nirvana. Sigh! And indeed, we are not ashamed to admit that we got a bit verklempt during the final bits of Hamko Tujhse.

That's all we got. We hope we've illuminated yet another little corner of this fab movie. And we highly, highly recommend that you just watch it for yourself.

Roti Kapada Aur Makaan (1974)

This one goes out to all the bleeding heart liberals in the house!


And this one's for all my psychadelic hippies in the hooouse!

The PPCC has several buttons. If you push these buttons, we will be eternally in your subjectitude. These buttons are:

1. A proletarian aesthetic.
2. Jump cuts between contrasting scenes, tracking shots that either follow or pass by characters, tasteful slow-motion, and the cunning use of wind machines.
3. Shashi Kapoor with long curls.
4. Ass-kicking heroines.
5. Little babies.
6. A hero who smolders like his cigarettes and broods like his chickens.
7. A blunt, bleeding-heart socioeconomic message.

Roti Kapada Aur Makaan (Food, Clothes and Shelter) has all this and more. It also has some seriously mental psychadelic song sequences, lots of fun and innovative imagery, proto-Shashitabh who eventually steal the show, several awesome songs, several reprises of awesome songs, and enough symbolism to sink a boat with.


BABY.


Epic songs by the disadvantaged.


Shashi looking so fine he looks like a plastic doll. According to some people.

We should probably say: this movie goes for your heart, your stomach and your brain with a battering ram. The PPCC prefers loud, blunt symbolism over hollow subtlety any day, so we loved this movie. Like loved it big time. It was fun, it was tragic, it was truly epical. Yeah! Even Manoj Kumar, who we only knew via the Om Shanti Om scandal and his way oversensitive behavior regarding it, even that guy, managed to be a compelling hero and an excellent director. You go, Manoj, you use that glitter and you brood the hell out that scene and you keep touching your face, man! Go, man, go!

The songs! The fashion! The unshaven, returning hero Amitabh! The unshaven, gilded bourgeoise Shashi! The sacrificial Zeenat! The everything!

But let us begin at the beginning. Cue entrance of Bharat (Manoj Kumar, or, as he'd prefer, Mr. India Himself). Bharat is the older brother of a swarming family. He has a degree and cannot find a job. The middle brother, Vijay (Amitabh Bachchan, very proto-himself) is angry and young (!). The youngest brother, Deepak (some guy), is part of the wallpaper until the end. Anyway, Bharat's girlfriend, Sheetal (Zeenat Aman), is fun and zesty and lands a job secretarying for this incredibly hot businessman, Mr. Mohan (The Shashi Kapoor). It's not long before Sheetal melts in Mr. Mohan's hotness like butter in the microwave. Bharat is hurt, almost inconsolable. He touches his face a lot.

Bharat lands a job at a building company. He befriends the zesty, proletarian Tulsi (Moushumi Chatterjee) and the Sikh stereotype (Prem Nath). Tulsi is a rape victim. In maybe the bluntest symbolism we've seen in a while, Tulsi was gang-raped by the Food Man, the Clothes Man, and the Shelter Man. OMG.


The highly disturbing, highly stylized rape scene.


Honestly, we think this might be one of the most gorgeous moments ever captured on film.

So basically everyone's under a lot of economic pressure, like big time. Bharat is freaking out. His dad passes away. He has no money. His girlfriend just left him for Mr. Heartbreaker Kapoor. Argh! Bharat starts to fall in with the wrong crowd: a bunch of smugglers, gangsters, and economic evildoers led by an evil Madan Puri and an interestingly morally ambiguous Poonam (Aruna Irani).

Thankfully, the return of a one-armed brother, the gregariousness of the Shash, the love of his girlfriend, and the massive brawn of Prem Nath help Bharat save himself, first, and then save India. It really is a wonderful movie.


Another moment from out favorite song, wherein Manoj is wonderfully sweet and poignant. The bit when he sings his verse is just lush.

We just loves ensemble casts where everyone fits together like puzzle pieces and everyone is sympathetic. And they all work together to make a better world, sigh! But to say that made the movie for us would be untrue, because what we loved and enjoyed - more! more! - was the crazy, intense imagery and the film's overall aesthetic style. It was so freaking interesting. Manoj Kumar seems to have taken a big lesson out of the Woody Allen school of directing, because he favored lovingly long shots which zoom in, zoom out, pan across the room, follow characters, linger on meaningful objects, return to the action, and so forth. Several conversations were shot in single takes! Yeah! Manoj also favored geometric patterns and classical set-ups, where tension is built via lighting or stares. Yeah yeah!


Their heads form a diagonal, their lines of sight form the tension. Gush!

And (big and here) the songs! They ranged from the absolutely tripping Main Na Bhuulunga - the anthem of Bharat and Sheelat's love, which became more and more poignant with each reprise (three!) - to the stylized and geometrical Aur Nahin Bas Aur Nahin, to the sublime and proletarian Mahengai Mar Gai (memories of Immaan Dharam's gorgeous Konjam Konjam!), to the bittersweet and zany Panditji Mere Marne Ke Baad. Guh. We loved 'em all. ALL. We loved the moment after Aur Nahin when the Shash has clearly understood everything, he blows out the fire ("A singer like that ignites fire in the audience's hearts!"), and engages in a slightly sinister, slightly piss-take, slightly joyous whistling reprise! (And note that when Zeenat and Shash start clapping and spinning, it's all one take.) We loved the moment when poor, hopeful Tulsi, who can't stop talking about how great Bharat is, gushes, "Oh, Dad, you know what he said once?!" And the scene zips to Mahengai Mar Gai, where the singer croons, "They said, 'Who are you?' I said, 'Your love.'"

But we could fill up a book with all the little moments we loved. We took more than 50 screencaps of the movie, because there were so many beautiful little shots that we wanted to keep. But how can you catch a cloud and pin it down? Alas, we lose the kinetic magic of the movie itself in just posting some stills like this.


We loved the tension in this song. So emo! So complex!

In terms of performances: first, as we said, Manoj Kumar was bad-ass awesome as the brooding, struggling, weight-o'-the-world-right-here first son. Like Zeenat, we were torn: Shashi's the hottest thing since fire, but poor Manoj - look at him! He's gonna get a pimple if he keeps rubbing his hands all over his face like that! Indeed, we felt a lot better when (spoiler spoiler) Shashi rights his inadvertent wrong and joins the Amitabh jodi instead (where he belongs, you could say). Manoj only became annoyingly preachy towards the end, but this was also because he was starting to get outshone by Shashitabh and Zeenat. Which brings us to: Shashitabh and Zeenat! Shashitabh first. Both Amitabh and Shashi were FINE in 1974, gush. Or, as my friends never tire of pointing out, Shashi looked like a plastic doll. Whatever. A FINE plastic doll. It was odd to watch these two towering icons of awesomeness play second banana to the face-touching guy, but then they ended up becoming progressively more and more awesome until their sheer force of awesomeness could not be denied. We can just imagine the Bombay producers in those cinema seats: "Look at these two! That's GOLD, right there. Freakin' GOLD." Zeenat, likewise, was kicking ass big time - and, while we usually share Beth's weariness with the whole self-sacrificing archetype in Hindi cinema, we actually got quite weepy during that one scene where... you know. We won't say it.


When there's something bad, in the neighborhood. Who you gonna call?


The freakin' Shashitabh, that's who. I ain't 'fraid o' no ghost.

All in all, this was the type of the movie where we ended up yelling into our TV screen, "GET HIM!" and, when the credits rolled, "SEQUEL. WE MUST HAVE A SEQUEL." The sequel could be called The Black Ishtone.