[
Stautory Warning: Very long post, reading further can result in a severe case of mental dyslexia, resulting from a sudden and brutal reunderstanding of pre-conceived notions.]
I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm not a very big
Bollywood fan, well, not if judged by your usual SRK-Karan Johar fare, neither of the
Dhoom 2 type action/skin flicks, and I couldn't care less about
Neil & Nikki kind of chick flicks. It's almost surreal the way the industry is dominated by the above 3 kinds of movies (and their myriad variations). No wonder, I have only seen around 5 Hindi movies in a hall in last 2 years. Well, if that's your definition of Hindi cinema, suit yourself.
But, I'm all for a
true classic, a production which not only questions the set notions, but proceeds to quash them to a pulp, setting new, higher and loftier standards in the process. Sadly, perhaps, in a reflection of the morally decandent times we live in, they are not considered
mainstream movies. Thus, I am used to my friends giving me ignorant, confused looks when I tried to introduce them to some
real cinema, the Ramsay Brothers productions (
here and
here, amongst many others), for example, and dismiss such sheer ignorance with a shrug. I even kept quiet when seminal works of legends like K Raghavendra Rao (
here,
here and
here), and more recently, TLV Prasad (
hallowed be thy name) became objects of ridicule, with pea-brained chat show hosts who simply didn't have enough in them to understand these artistic expressions. (
In fact, these two legends deserve a separate blog on them.)
However, even my tolerance limit was breached last week when some self-professed,
Bollywood gurus confessed to not even hearing of a true masterpiece, a work so grand, so reflective of our times, a piece of art so relevant that even 50-100 years down the line, its viewers would marvel at the sheer genius that resulted in this. And that was when I decided to educate my fellow movie-goers (after rewatching it twice in the last 3 days, but then, every time i watch it, there are newer relevations, subtle touches that I had missed earlier) .
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There are only two kinds of people in this world. Those, who have seen Gunda, and those who shall. ~ AnonymousTruer words have never been spoken. There are
classics and then there are
classics. But, to combine the essence of both schools of film-making is no mean task. Only a handful of movies have managed it thus far, the legend I'm going to discuss today, being one of them.
A movie, made in the late 1990s (a turbulent period in Indian history), took the entire country by storm, not suprisingly, 6 years after its initial release (even for a movie made with minimum fuss,
Gunda was much much ahead of its time). Male hostels across the nation (mostly IITs and RECs), discovered this
magnum opus and needless to say, became enthralled and
erupted (no pun intended) in joy.
Orkut communities were set up,
blogs were written, and an entire generation warmed up to the idea of
'entertainment with a social message'. Lost works of the visionary director
Kanti Shah -- works of art like
Loha (an
iconic scene from this masterpiece) -- overnight, became the most sought after names in CD-DVD shops/internet bit torrent downloads (depending on your views on piracy).
However, vested interests, sensed a very real danger that a
cult phenomenon can pose to their authority -- after all, an entire generation of
Karan Johar/Ekta Kapoor fed youngsters was finally waking up to
real cinema. Efforts were made to subdue this work, it was banned (ostensibly, for being anti-feminist, as I show below, this charge is totally unfounded). Finally, they gave it a 'A' rating, no doubt, to prevent more youngsters from discovering what real cinema feels like.
Let's start with a quick refresher for those who have seen it (and to prepare those who haven't):
Mera naam hai bulla, rakhta hoon khulla.....Mera naam hai potey, jo apne baap ke bhi nahi hote. After watching
this scene, who can stay untouched by the poetic nature of introductions (thus showing that even the conventional
villains have a softer side of them, not all characters are just black or white, there are shades of grey); sheer mastery of words (
potey, after all, can't belong to their fathers, only grandfathers can have
potey) and the sheer menace in
Bulla's eyes (If the 70s had their
Gabbar Singh, this century has
Bulla)? And whom does he face? An equally menacing
Lambu Atta -- in this battle of giants, heads are bound to roll.
Bulla (the most menacing 'villain' of our times)This iconic, fast-paced scene sets the tone for the rest of the movie. The main characters are introduced, we learn that
Bulla is not to be messed with, and in a classic Hitchcockian/Kurosawian touch, the constant teasing of
Chutiya (named, of course, for his hairstyle and to be prounounced by a hard
't', as in tomato) by
Potey and
Ibu Hatela will have drastic consequences for all of them later, but we're not to know that --
yet.
Events move fast from here on, realizing that
Lambu Atta is fast becoming a menace,
Bulla kills his brother, hoping that by doing this, further blooshed will be avoided. Also note that we are told that
Bulla has decided to '
hamesha rakhta hoon khulla' from now on (a not so subtle reference to an equally iconic character from India's history --
Kautilya/Chanakya). But, as a self-fulfilling prophecy, this only leads to
this -- we witness the serious extent to which
Bulla takes his promises (he's shown with a
khulla torso), the audience is now prepared to see more bloodshed (all, of course, for a far greater cause).
In one of the most
moving cinematic obituaries of all time, we are told of
Bulla's many aspects, he's a poet, finding rhyme, even at the lowest ebbs of his personal misfortunes (
Behen ko lamba, maachis ki tili ko khamba); he's steadfast in his promises (
khulla torso), a learned historian (Kautilyan reference above); he is also a devoted brother, who had elaborate plans for his sister's marriage.
Lambu Atta (after escalating the war, thus scripting his own downfall)From now on, it's only a matter of time before
Lambu Atta gets his
Maut ka Chaanta. The scene is important in many ways. We learn that even
Bulla, the epitome of villainy, believes in fairness (he says that the death of his sister, while sad, was not unexpected -- after all,
Lambu Atta was just trying to recover his
'bhai ki maut ka ghaata'). Some critics have also interpreted this as a sign of strong support to not completely discarding notions of fairness/morality even while at the fringes of society.
The director also makes a strong statement in favour of women rights --
Bulla says that the reason he's killing
Lambu Atta is not on account of his sister's murder, but her rape -- thus delivering a tight slap on faces of all feminists who wrongly accused him of being anti-feminist (yes, even this classic was banned for a couple of weeks on those flimsy charges). Even when
Atta makes a statement about
neeche bajane ke liye seeti, he's stopped in his tracks by
Potey, thus showing clearly where director's message lies. In a scene remniscient of passages from
Gita,
Bulla performs his
Dharma over a very tempting offer from
Atta, and in what must be one of the most understated performances of all time,
Lambu passes on to meet his maker.
Bulla, Chutiya and mantri (in happier times)So, the stage is now set for
Prabhuji's entry.
Bulla has finished off all competition, thus establishing a monopoly, the police, the industrialist and the politician are all
in cohoots with him, and against these seemingly unsurmountable odds, one would think, even Mithun-da as
Shankar (a humble coolie working, amonst other places,
at an airport, a shipyard and a
chawl) -- capable of
this (yes, Matrix copied the slow hand movements from here) and
this (seen here, solving rural Bengal's water problem, once and for all) -- has no chance. But then, it's audience's expectations against the director's brilliance, and in this battle of wits, sheer genius is bound to triumph over motley audience sensibilities.
Shankar prevents
Kala Shetty (
Bulla's henchman) from escpaing after
kafanchor neta's murder.
Shetty is handed over to the police, and in, what must be a first, he's tried, convincted and sentenced well before the day is over. Now, that
Bulla's paths have crossed with
Shankar's, we can expect fireworks, and for once, the audience gets what it expects.
The movie carries on with its ebbs and flows, each scene a new revelation, a new window of opportunity to peep into the deepest, darkest confines of director's brains. A detailed review of the movie, it is widely agreed, is worthy of a doctorate and so, it's imperative to concentrate only on the broad synopsis.Shankar's sister is saved from getting raped by a good samaritan and quite understandably, she decides to get married to him. However, everything's not as it seems. In a bizzare and cruel twist,
Shankar's sister is handed over to
Chutiya, for his consumption. However,
Chutiya, is not the same harmless person we saw him as in the first scene. In the meantime, he has grown
powerful (
where it matters), thanks to special capsules from London
Bulla has been getting for him -- so powerful, that, inspite of his best intentions,
Shankar's sister dies. Rather than explaining the whole thing to
Shankar (who, no doubt, would have been considerate enough to understand), in a
Hamletian fit,
Chutiya decides to bury the body.
Chutiya (commits a grave error, halfway through the movie)Shankar, a staunch believer in
non-violence and
Satyagraha, decides to wait a bit before taking revenge and sings a couple of songs with
Radha, his childhood sweetheart, who, is an epitome of a healthy, well-fed, Indian
nari (another slap in feminists' collective face). However, all hell breaks loose when his father is killed by the police inspector (to be fair to the inspector, the father was being a
PITA, stopping inspector from eating chicken/mutton, drinking wine and in general, from having a good time).
In a scene, many times more powerful than the climax scene in
Aakrosh,
Shankar decides that enough is enough and just says --
'Do, char, aath, das -- Bas'. Yes, just the five words, no lengthy sermons of how he's going to fry
Bulla alive or relish in killing
Chutiya. While
killing Potey,
Ibu,
the inspector and even
Chutiya is no big deal for
Shankar, disposing of
Bulla is no mean task. Not that
Shankar would want to kill him that easily either.
So, finally, on the 10th day of his rage (remember
'Do, char, aath, das -- Bas'), Shankar decides to finish off
Bulla once and for ever. However, in a scene, much grander than that in
Ben Hur, the director reminds us of
Bulla's tremendous grassroots' support, the whole country's autorickshaw drivers come to support him, and for once, it seems that
Shankar is on the wrong foot. But
Shankar soon pulls out a 'bazooka cum rocket launcher' from his arsenal, and after that, it's only a matter of time before all the autos are shot down (rather, blasted away) one by one.
This scene also vaguely implies (by auto-drivers' support for
Bulla) that once, not in so distant past,
Bulla must have been just like
Shankar (
gareebon ke liye jwala....). Thus, even in the climax scene, the dirctor reminds us that violence is no solution and even
Shankar will have to guard against becoming the very part of the system he seeked to destroy.
Thus, the tyranny of
Bulla is ended and
Shankar Raj is established. However, for Kanti Shah's message, this is only the beginning. The beauty of the movie lies not only in its 'breath of a fresh air' like script, not even in the countless powerful performances by one and all, rather it lies in the millions of ways it can be interpreted. No matter which angle one looks at it from (political, economic, social), the movie has messages relevant to every field. As an example,
Bulla gets
Chutiya's capsules from London, an endorsement of open market policies (remember that even in late 1990s,
Swadeshi was a holy cow).
One only wonders why
Bappi da was not chosen for the music -- the film could only have gone from strength to strength, had it been blessed by his music.
