Latest news with #GuruDutt:ALifeinCinema
The Print
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Print
Guru Dutt was more than brooding loneliness. His cinema pulsed with wit and satire
Yet, as Nasreen Munni Kabir notes in Guru Dutt: A Life in Cinema , he was also looking ahead—eager to complete Baharen Phir Bhi Aayengi and actively involved in projects like K Asif's Love and God and RS Tara's Picnic . His professionalism, even amid personal struggles, remained intact. Similarly, auteurs like Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman, and Michelangelo Antonioni explored alienation and melancholy in their work—elements that often mirror personal conflicts but do not define the artist. In Dutt's case, films like Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool certainly convey the brooding alienation of a misunderstood artist. The latter, semi-autobiographical and a commercial failure at the time, deepened the myth of the tortured filmmaker. On Guru Dutt's centenary, much of the discourse gravitates toward his mental health and tragic end, often at the cost of overshadowing his towering cinematic legacy. This recurring emphasis on his depression reflects a broader cultural tendency to conflate artistic genius with emotional turmoil—a narrative seen with Tim Burton, Francis Ford Coppola, and Lars von Trier, all of whom have openly discussed their struggles with mental health. The so-called suicide theory remains contested. While he had earlier incidents involving sleeping pills, there is little definitive evidence that his death was intentional. His onscreen presence in songs like 'Bhanwara Bada Naadan' or 'Aaj Ki Mulaqat' doesn't bear the stamp of a man entirely consumed by despair. As with Meena Kumari and Madhubala, the mythmaking around Dutt often overshadows the reality: that he was a complex, driven artist who, despite loneliness and internal battles, continued to work, create, and captivate. A hundred years on, it's time to remember Guru Dutt not merely as a tragic figure, but as a visionary who redefined Indian cinema with lyricism, technical innovation, and emotional depth. His work endures—not because of the mystique surrounding his death, but because of the life he poured into every frame. Also read: Guru Dutt built Bollywood's most unlikely dream team—bus conductor, unknown writer, dancer Aar Paar showed a different Guru Dutt The lighter side of Guru Dutt shines through in the genre-bending experimentation of his 1954 film Aar Paar. A blend of noir, romance, musical, and social satire, Aar Paar marks a confident display of Dutt's directorial control. Fresh off the success of Baazi and Jaal, Dutt centres the film on Kaalu, a taxi driver navigating love and crime in Bombay's post-Independence urban landscape. Played by Dutt himself, Kaalu is emblematic of the city's working class, making Aar Paar one of the earliest Indian films to realistically portray the migrant population of Bombay. Unlike the mythic romanticism of Kaagaz Ke Phool, Aar Paar is embedded in the everyday. Abrar Alvi's dialogue sparkles with authenticity; characters speak in a mix of Hindi, Urdu, and Bombay street slang—a linguistic realism rare for its time. The film avoids 'literary' Hindi and allows each character to speak in their own dialect. The noir elements—use of shadows, reflective surfaces, and confined spaces—coexist with choreographed musical exuberance. Songs like 'Sun Sun Zalima' (shot in a garage) and 'Ye Lo Main Haari Piya' (set on Bombay's streets) turn real urban spaces into stylised songscapes. The garage scene is particularly notable for its use of space as narrative—a car becomes both a prop and symbolic barrier between the lovers. The song 'Mohabbat Karlo Ji Bharlo' offers a meta-commentary on love and disillusionment. Dutt's character grunts disapprovingly at young lovers, only to break into a philosophical song that reflects both scepticism and rueful acceptance of love's illusions. Such visual playfulness and choreographed mise-en-scène are rarely seen in Indian cinema of the time. Dutt and Shyama share palpable on-screen chemistry, anchoring the romantic plot with charm. Shakila, in her noir-inspired club songs like 'Babuji Dheere Chalna,' brings sensual mystique, marking the arrival of the femme fatale in Indian noir. Johnny Walker, as always, injects comedic balance, grounding the film in Dutt's broader humanist vision. Aar Paar redefined the musical as a narrative driver, not merely an interlude. It also foregrounded Bombay as a character—its taxis, clubs, backstreets, and garages becoming living, breathing backdrops. The creative team—Abrar Alvi (dialogue), VK Murthy (cinematography), OP Nayyar (music), and Majrooh Sultanpuri (lyrics)—set a high-water mark for collaboration in Hindi cinema. The film laid the groundwork for the noir-romance blend seen in later works like CID (1956), Kala Bazar (1960), and even Teesri Manzil (1966). Aar Paar is an essential film in Guru Dutt's legacy—not a footnote, but a standalone masterpiece that showcases his wit, range, and control. Its artistic experimentation, urban realism, and unforgettable music testify to Dutt's joy in storytelling. It's time we celebrate Aar Paar not just as a 'lighter' film, but as a work of cinematic intelligence and warmth that rivals any in Dutt's oeuvre. Rajeev Srivastava is a filmmaker and photographer, who has directed and produced documentaries and reportage for the World Bank, BBC, Reuters, APTN, and France 24. He has also curated international film festivals in Delhi. Views are personal. (Edited by Prashant)
Indian Express
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
Guru Dutt at 100: The filmmaker, the man and the myth
Written by Akshay Manwani There is a telling moment in the climax of the Guru Dutt classic Pyaasa (1957), when his character, a poet named Vijay, declares that he has no grievances against anyone. Vijay says, 'Mujhe shikaayat hai samaaj ke uss dhaanchey se jo insaan se uski insaaniyat chheen leta hai (My complaint is against those social structures that take away a man's compassion).' The lament comes soon after Vijay is presumed dead, a misapprehension that is exploited to the fullest by his friends and family. The ephemeral nature of fame was a theme that Dutt carried into his next film as well. In Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959), the actor-filmmaker played director Suresh Sinha. Once a star in his own right, Sinha falls out of favour with his producer boss after a spate of unsuccessful films, owing to his unravelling personal life. Here too, like in Pyaasa, Dutt's character prefers to resign himself to a life of oblivion rather than compromising his artistic freedom. 'Matlab ki duniya hai saari, bichhdey sabhi baari baari' croons Mohammed Rafi, mourning how easily people forget a man whose fortunes are in freefall. Born on this day a century ago, Dutt left a body of work that made an indelible mark on our cinema and national consciousness. As author and documentary filmmaker Nasreen Munni Kabir noted in the preface of her seminal book, Guru Dutt: A Life in Cinema, 'As an American academic commented after seeing Pyaasa, if Guru Dutt's work had been better known internationally in his own lifetime, he would have been ranked alongside the likes of Douglas Sirk and Billy Wilder.' In the same preface, Kabir also remarked, 'It is interesting to note that in his own films, Guru Dutt speaks suggestively of the posthumous fame of the creative artist who is only truly valued after he has died.' It was Guru Dutt's social commentary that assured his films a place in cinema history. Pyaasa and Kaagaz Ke Phool held up a mirror to a nation coming to terms with its newfound independence. The films raised uncomfortable questions about human avarice, increasing materialism and the short-lived nature of success. Dutt's preoccupations were evident even in the supposedly lighthearted Mr & Mrs 55 (1955). A quick exchange between his character, Preetam, and Seeta Devi (Lalita Pawar) highlights the plight of millions of pavement dwellers for whom home did not even mean a roof over their head. 'Tum communist ho? (Are you a communist?),' an irate Seeta Devi asks, to which Preetam replies, 'Ji nahin, cartoonist' (No, just a cartoonist). Consider also the song sequence, 'Jinhe naaz hai Hind par' in Pyaasa. The song was an adaptation of noted Urdu poet and songwriter Sahir Ludhianvi's poem, Chakley, meaning 'brothels'. As Vijay makes his way through a red-light area, the song unfolds in Rafi's voice, imploring the nation to pay attention to the plight of these exploited women. It is no surprise that Pyaasa finds a place in Time magazine's 100 greatest films of all time. Beyond the politics of his films, Guru Dutt championed a certain fragile masculinity that has since gone out of fashion in our cinema and society. His characters weren't afraid to weep and wallow in self-pity. This could be said of Dilip Kumar, too, who courted a definitive tragic persona as espoused by his characters in Devdas (1955), Madhumati (1958) and Mughal-e-Azam (1960). But Kumar could be self-confident in some of his other notable films, such as Aan (1952), Naya Daur (1957), Gunga Jumna (1961) and Ram Aur Shyam (1967). In the films he is best remembered for, Guru Dutt withdrew to a more philosophical place when the tide turned against him. His cinematic gems underscored the necessity to pause and reflect. His protagonists — cartoonist, poet, filmmaker — advocated a higher intellectualism, something that any civilisation needs, no matter the era. In contemporary times, when there is so much chest-thumping, perhaps there is an urgent need to revisit Dutt's films. Even today, the fine songs in these films can provide cathartic release in moments of despair. To Guru Dutt also goes the credit of shaping several film careers, both before and behind the camera. Writer Abrar Alvi, who worked with Dutt beginning with Aar Paar (1954) until the latter's last film, changed the theatrical manner of dialogue delivery in Hindi cinema to a more conversational style. The composer-songwriter duo of S D Burman-Ludhianvi got a firm foothold in the industry thanks to their early work in Baazi (1951) and Jaal (1952) before hitting their peak in Pyaasa. Dutt forged a similar successful collaboration with music director O P Nayyar and lyricist Majrooh Sultanpuri who worked on successive hits — Aar Paar, Mr & Mrs 55, CID (1956) — with Dutt. CID saw Dutt hand the directorial baton to Raj Khosla, his assistant director on films like Baazi and Aar Paar. Following its success, Khosla would go on to become one of the most successful directors of mainstream Hindi cinema in the 1960s and 1970s. Highlighting the noir-ish and poignant mood of many of Guru Dutt's films was ace cinematographer V K Murthy. Starting his career as an assistant cameraman on Baazi, Murthy flourished under Dutt's patronage. His high-contrast lighting style in Pyaasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool and Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962) enhanced the frailties and dilemmas of the characters. Dev Anand, one of the dominant trio of male actors of the 1950s alongside Dilip Kumar and Raj Kapoor, also benefited from his partnership with Dutt. But Dutt's biggest gift to the film industry was the actor Waheeda Rehman. In bringing the teenage Rehman from Telugu cinema to face the shining arc lights in CID, Dutt unearthed a rare gem. The relationship between actor and filmmaker, very much like the story between Suresh Sinha and Shanti (Rehman) in Kaagaz Ke Phool, is also speculated to have enhanced the turmoil in Dutt's personal life. Dutt allegedly ended his life in October 1964. This mix of classic films, an untimely death, and the blurring of lines between his personal life and cinematic work is what makes the Guru Dutt story so captivating. It gives a mythical quality to a man whose fragility, both on screen and in real life, was all too real. Manwani is the author of Sahir Ludhianvi: The People's Poet and Music, Masti, Modernity: The Cinema of Nasir Husain
