The indefinitive list

Compiling a bunch of unforgettables from Indian cinema is bound to create room for argument. Suveen Sinha finds plenty to disagree with M K Raghavendra’s 50 Indian Film Classics

I was in school when I saw Hathyar, not the Sanjay Dutt-starrer made by Mahesh Manjrekar, but the Sanjay Dutt-starrer made by J P Dutta before he became inexorably fascinated with fatigues. It was an unusual film. We were mostly used to, and enjoyed, films that had a “hero”, someone who we liked (and copied) and supported in his battle with evil, and who invariably triumphed and got the girl. Hathyar did not have a “hero”; all its lead characters were flawed — interesting, but flawed, not worth imitating. I could not make much of the film, but it did leave most of us a bit moved. During the school holidays that began a day later, I told a film-loving aunt to watch the film. She did, and never forgave me for it.

That was one of the early instances that convinced me that film watching is an intensely personal experience. To an extent, we may get influenced by the opinion of those watching with us, “expert” reviews, and word of mouth. But, at the end of the show, there is an indefinable feeling within that leaves no room for doubt whether we liked it or not.

However, it is one thing to like a film in an irrational manner and quite another to compile a list of the classics. The latter task would require us to resist the indefinable appeal of a film and judge it merely on prosaic cinematic parameters. Is this good craftsmanship, we need to ask. Did the film capture its milieu? Is its appeal timeless? Did it leave a lasting impact on the way films are made? And does it entertain, as every film ought to?

Your reviewer, in his time, immensely enjoyed the Govinda noir (especially Aankhen, Raja Babu, Saajan Chale Sasural and Deewana Mastana), would pick Ram Jaane as one of Shah Rukh’s best performances (he turned hamming into an art form here), and still laughs while watching reruns of Andaz Apna Apna. But he wouldn’t pick any of these as a classic. The ripe professional has no time for the schoolboy’s lack of rationale.

M K Raghavendra does. He picks Hathyar among his list of 50 Indian film classics. It is a list you may like to question. The seriousness of your questioning may vary depending on how seriously you take this non-serious pastime, but question you will.

To his credit, Raghavendra casts his net wide. In terms of the period, this book pans nearly 80 years — from the silent era (Prem Sanyas, 1925, one of the few silent films that survive in their entirety) to Rang De Basanti (2006). It accommodates most languages. Bhojpuri finds no representation here — the titles of Bhojpuri films are ample giveaway why they are not included — but Marathi (Sant Tukaram) is, as is Manipuri (Imagi Ningthem). The major movie languages — Hindi, Urdu, Bengali, Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada, of course, find ample space.

Raghavavendra also manages to avoid the trap that most list makers fall into, that to be called a classic a film must first put you to sleep. He shows boldness of thought in choosing some entertaining films that also appealed to the masses, though perhaps goes overboard in including films like Amar Akbar Anthony. It’s the ultimate masala film, but hardly great cinema. (In one scene, three men pool their blood into a common jar, from which a tube takes that mixed blood straight into the arteries of their mother. Later, the mother gets her eyesight back when two specks of light emanate from the eyes of a Sai Baba statue and enter hers.)

Raghavendra also seems unable to resist the decades-old drivel that Kagaz Ke Phool is a classic. Kagaz Ke Phool, in fact, is perhaps the worst film made by Guru Dutt. At this point in his career, Dutt, buoyed by the success of Pyaasa, should have taken an uncompromising shot at another good film. Instead, he ends up making a two-faced film whose one strand captures a poignant tale but another wastes reels by showing the non-funny life of Johnny Walker. Perhaps Dutt wanted to recapture the verve of his earlier films (Aar Ya Paar and Mr and Mrs 55), or maybe he fell prey to the commercial compulsions of weaving in so-called entertainment.

Raghavendra may have had good reasons for his selection, which he may have explained in his 20-page introduction, which you may find out if you are not, unlike your reviewer, eager to get on with discussions on films.

Unfortunately, this desire to delve into the depths of cinema is left largely unfulfilled. Each film gets five to eight pages. Raghavendra uses up the first half of the chapters describing the story of the film. In the second half he discusses the quality of the film and what makes it a classic. He does sound intellectual, but also predictable. The social, political and other aspects that he discusses do not tell you any more than what a person interested in movies would already know and understand. Eventually, the book leaves you with a feeling that it was a good attempt, but half-baked, like Kagaz Ke Phool.

50 INDIAN FILM CLASSICS
Author: M K Raghavendra
Publisher: HarperCollins
Pages: 323
Price: Rs 350

 

FIVE THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEEN IN THE LIST...

Do Bigha Zameen (Hindi)
Charulata (Bangla)
Ganga Jumna (Hindi)
Nayagan (Tamil)
Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (Hindi)

AND FIVE THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN...

Kaagaz Ke Phool (Hindi)
Amar Akbar Anthony (Hindi)
Hathyar (Hindi)
Hum Aapke Hain Koun (Hindi)
Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna (Hindi)