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India Today
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- India Today
Naa Ninna Bidalare: Anant Nag's classic is a battle between obsession and devotion
In this week's Retro Review, we pick a 1979 Kannada horror film that set trends, made waves and gave an iconic on-screen pair. 'Naa Ninna Bidalare' is a milestone film in the esteemed careers of Lakshmi and Anant Nag, who were considered an iconic on-screen pair during their prime. The film established Anant Nag's acting prowess as well as his potential to pull audiences to the Naa Ninna Bidalare (1979)Cast: Anant Nag, Lakshmi, K Vijaya, KS Ashwath, Leelavathi, Balakrishna, Musuri Krishnamurthy among Vijay ReddiBox-Office Status: Blockbuster (Ran in theatres for over 100 days)Where to Watch: YouTubeWhy to Watch: Anant Nag-Lakshmi on-screen chemistry, screenplay, peak horror, beautiful songsadvertisementToxicity in relationships and romance is one of the most talked-about topics currently, in cinema or otherwise. Red flags, obsession, stalking, coercion, manipulation, etc., on one side - green flags, loyalty, trust, devotion, etc., on the other - and we often find characters in films and people around us in real life oscillating and stuck between these poles; all in the name of imagine a film that is almost four decades old addressing the same issues, but with a magnified perspective. That's 'Naa Ninna Badalare' for you - a 1979 Kannada film that talks about the same problems but on a deeper, darker and scarier level. On one end, we have Kamini, played by K Vijaya, who represents all the negative connotations of love listed above; and on the other, we have Gayathri, played by Lakshmi, who represents the positive. Struggling in between is Krishna, played by Anant Nag, who is married to his childhood love Gayathri but becomes blue-eyed due to Kamini's obsession - a love that haunts him literally. A poster of 'Naa Ninna Bidalare' advertisementThe Plot in a nutshellThe film begins with Krishna attempting to study for his exams, but his focus quickly falters, thanks to a photo of Gayathri tucked inside his textbook. The picture acts like a bookmark - or maybe a checkpoint in the syllabus - as if he's promised himself he can see her only after completing a set number of the exams are done, Krishna heads back to his village. But instead of going home, he rushes straight to see Gayathri. Having grown up together - their parents being siblings - Krishna and Gayathri have shared a bond since childhood. Their love story feels destined, even unofficially betrothed over the follows is a string of cinematic highs: Krishna jumps off a moving train just to get to Gayathri immediately; a retro classic, 'Naanu Neenu Ondada Mele' by SP Balasubrahmanyam and S Janaki, sets the tone; there's drama, comedy, and a wedding fixed before you know it. Then comes another SPB–S Janaki gem, 'Hosa Balige Nee Joteyaade', played on their first night as a married couple. Just when things seem to be heading toward a near-consummation of marriage - boom - the pre-interval twist drops: in a graveyard, Krishna is blue (eye)balled, and the camera pans ominously to the name... Kamini. (PC: Youtube/SGV Digital) This is where the film really gets into its element and picks up pace. Who is Kamini? What happened to Krishna? Was Krishna loyal to Gayathri while he was away for his studies? Will Gayathri be able to save her husband from the clutches of Kamini? The answers to these questions - delivered in the most conventional and classic manner - form the plot of the rest of the film. Not just that, but these very answers are what made the film a classic in the rich filmographies of cinema icons like Anant Nag and of romance: Red flags and green flags'Naa Ninna Bidalare', which translates to 'I won't leave you' in Kannada, is applicable in two ways: the innocent, dedicated love of Gayathri and the toxic obsession of Kamini - both directed at Krishna. While 'red flags' and 'green flags' are terms popularised by Gen-Z, the theme itself has existed for as long as love has been relevant, and cinema has long explored these Anant Nag as a possessed Krishna looks terrifying, the conversations between Kamini in Krishna's possessed body and Gayathri are just as catty as ever - conversations between two women over a man. The dialogue, 'Baa re baa!', is so iconic that it's the first thing that comes to mind for anyone who has watched the film. And the pre-climax clash between the metaphorical green and red flag? It's the kind of spicy (masaledaar) showdown that reality shows today could only dream of staging. (PC: Youtube/SGV Digital) advertisementThe film takes a moral standpoint, holding up a mirror to reflect the contrast between these polar-opposite forces. Sitting in 2025, it might come off as a tad preachy in its portrayal of a modern city girl versus a traditional village girl. But if you look past the obvious classic template, you can see how these women represent all the traits we now label individually - what was once simply considered good or classic template: Old now but gold thenThe story, screenplay, and technical aspects of the film follow what we now recognise as 'the template'. In the realm of love-centric dramas, it has all the familiar ingredients: a noble and charming hero, a heroine who's the epitome of virtue, families who heighten the drama without offering real solutions, a couple of comic side characters, and a female villain who's the complete opposite of the ideal heroine. And since the villain is a ghost, it's ultimately God who steps in to save the paper, it might sound like a film you've seen a hundred times before, but what makes this old gem feel like gold is the way it has been presented. A classic template done right is still entertaining today, so just imagine the kind of craze this film must have had - which, for a 1979 release, can still be considered ahead of its time. While the elements follow the template, the treatment does not. Most importantly, the comic scenes are an extension of the main plot, and not just a random ape-man showing up in the city and harassing women under the guise of comedy. This shows that building a story was given the most importance and not a mindless integration of music and immortal voicesSP Balasubrahmanyam, S Janaki, and P Susheela are pillars of playback singing in Indian cinema. Just these names, along with the music cassettes sold, were enough to make this film a profitable venture. Those were the days when such musical icons were no less than superstars on screen. The immortal voices of these stalwarts struck the right chord, elevating the cinematic experience and instantly establishing the chemistry between the characters. P Susheela, SP Balasubramaniyam and S Janaki (from the left), some of the most accomplished singers in Indian cinema advertisementThe four songs in the film - the devotional 'Bidenu Ninna Paada', the saucy anti-romantic 'Endendigoo Naa Ninna', the song of unification 'Hosa Balige Nee Joteyaade', and the ever-romantic 'Naanu Neenu Ondada' - form a playlist, and a set of voices, that are truly Nag and Lakshmi: One of the finest on-screen couplesLakshmi, or 'Julie Lakshmi', became a nationwide sensation with her debut film for her beauty and on-screen charm. Anant Nag, on the other hand, was a consistent presence in parallel cinema, frequently seen in Shyam Benegal's award-winning films like 'Ankur', 'Nishant', and 'Kalyug'. While these roles marked their entry into the Hindi film industry, both actors carved out their own success stories in South Indian cinema before coming together on who debuted in 1968, was soon cast opposite some of the biggest names in South Indian cinema - from Rajkumar and Vishnuvardhan to MG Ramachandran, Sivaji Ganesan, NT Rama Rao, and Akkineni Nageswara Rao. She steadily built a strong portfolio, eventually establishing herself as a female superstar of that Nag, meanwhile, made his debut in 1973 after gaining prominence in theatre. He gradually rose in popularity for his chocolate-hero image in commercial films, while also making a mark in several award-winning parallel cinema projects. When the two were paired together in 'Naa Ninna Bidalare' (1979), their chemistry was so widely appreciated that they went on to star in several more Kannada films together, becoming a formula for guaranteed commercial success. A lasting legacyA film becomes a classic when it refuses to fade with time and continues to live on in the minds of its audience. This is one such film - not just because its themes still resonate today, but because its storytelling sets it apart from the rest. What truly cements its legacy, however, are two unforgettable forces: the iconic pairing of Padma Bhushan Anant Nag and Lakshmi, and Kannada cinema's eternal blue-eyed boy - Krishna. - Ends
India Today
22-06-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Aandhi: A cinematic storm that echoed Indira's era
In this week's Retro Review, we dive into 'Aandhi', a bold political satire that stirred controversy for its striking parallels to Indira Gandhi. A timeless tale of ambition, love, and sacrifice, it remains a cinematic Review: Aandhi (1975)Cast: Sanjeev Kumar, Suchitra Sen, Om Prakash, AK Hangal, Om ShivpuriDirector: GulzarMusic/Lyrics: RD Burman, GulzarBox-Office Status: HitWhere to Watch: YouTubeWhy to Watch: For its poignant portrayal of politics' toll on personal livesMoral of the Story: Kuch toh log kahenge, logon ka kaam hai kehnaadvertisementFormer Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi devoted an hour every morning to yoga. She spent almost an equivalent amount of time with her stylist every week. The combination of the two gave her a distinct personality, highlighted by a slender physique, brisk walk, crisp sarees, and a hairstyle with a signature streak of the 1970s, Mrs Gandhi (as she was known worldwide) was at the peak of her popularity. The victory over Bangladesh, and her 'garibi hatao' campaign had endeared her to the masses and the classes. Even the opposition hailed her as an avatar of Durga. Photo: IMDb advertisement Film-maker Gulzar saw in Indira's unique persona and soaring popularity an opportunity to craft a political satire. The outcome was 'Aandhi', a film that suffered the highs and lows of the character that inspired has said many times the film was not based on Indira Gandhi's life. Only the lead character, Aarti Devi, was inspired by her, and Tarkeshwari Sinha, a popular Parliamentarian from Patna. But at the time of 'Aandhi's' release, the film was marketed as an Indira Gandhi biopic, with posters exhorting the audience to come and watch 'their PM on the screen.'The strategy, initially successful, backfired when Mrs Gandhi's opponents started screening some of the scenes in 'Aandhi' to tarnish her image during elections for the Gujarat assembly, fought in the heat of the Navnirman on a complaint filed by the Congress, the Election Commission banned 'Aandhi', 24 weeks after its initial release. Soon after, on June 26, 1975, Indira Gandhi's firm voice crackled through All India Radio, announcing the imposition of the Emergency. The film, thus, was indelibly linked with Mrs Gandhi, and the excesses of the Emergency that coincided with the PLOT'Aandhi's' narrative unfolds with a delicate balance of personal drama and political intrigue, centred on Aarti Devi (Suchitra Sen), a charismatic yet embattled politician whose chance reunion with her estranged husband, JK (Sanjeev Kumar), forces her to confront the sacrifices her ambition has demanded. Sanjeev Kumar and Suchitra Sen in a still from 'Aandhi'. (Photo: Facebook/FilmHistoryPic) While Aarti navigates the deluge of emotions from the past, an election unfolds, with all its trickery and subterfuge. Unable to match her aura and sharp moves, the opposition attacks Aarti's personal tongues, like they always do, begin to wag with rumours, snide remarks and salacious gossip. But, with a bold move at the end, Aarti stuns her critics, stealing the show, literally, from their own narrative similarities with Indira Gandhi are hard to miss. Her father, India's first PM Jawaharlal Nehru, wasn't happy with her marriage to Feroze Gandhi, a Parsi. The marriage was solemnised with Vedic rituals, at Nehru's Gandhi, a dynamic politician and journalist, maintained an independent identity. Elected to the Lok Sabha from Rae Bareli in 1952 and 1957, he often sparred with the government. In 1958, he famously uncovered the LIC scandal, which implicated the relationship with Indira was complex, marked by periods of strain. Burdened with contradictions, the alliance didn't last long. Indira Gandhi soon shifted to her father's home with her sons Rajiv and 'Aandhi', Aarti's complex marriage with JK, who has an independent spirit, mirrors the Indira-Feroze dynamics. But, unlike Feroze Gandhi's tragic end - he died young after a heart attack - the film ends on a happy another scene, Aarti is pelted with stones. This happens after she delivers a speech and is confronted by an angry crowd. A journalist then asks her if violence is a part of politics, to which she replies that it is a part of bad incident has an uncanny similarity with a political rally where a stone hit Indira Gandhi's nose, requiring minor surgery. Photo: IMDb THE GOOD, BAD AND UGLYThe film's brilliance lies in Gulzar's ability to craft a story that is both intimate and universal, exploring the toll of public life on personal relationships. Sen's portrayal of Aarti is magnetic. She channels the poise and steely resolve of a leader while revealing the quiet loneliness beneath her polished as JK, matches her with a performance that is understated yet deeply affecting, his character's stoic demeanour masking years of unresolved film's non-linear storytelling, a Gulzar trademark, weaves past and present seamlessly, showing how Aarti's rise in politics strained her marriage and distanced her from her daughter. This personal conflict is juxtaposed with her public persona, where she navigates a world of sycophants, rivals, and moral compromises.'Aandhi' doesn't shy away from showing the gritty realities of politics - bribery, manipulation, and public scrutiny - but it does so with a poetic restraint that avoids Burman's music, paired with Gulzar's evocative lyrics, is the film's emotional heartbeat. Songs like 'Tere Bina Zindagi Se' and 'Is Mod Se Jaate Hain' are not mere interludes but narrative pillars, amplifying the themes of longing and chemistry between Sen and Kumar is most palpable in these musical moments, where their unspoken emotions speak louder than words. The supporting cast - Om Prakash, AK Hangal, and Om Shivpuri - adds depth, portraying the loyalists and sceptics who orbit Aarti's problem with the film is its climax. It starts with a problem that looks like a pointless 'Aandhi', a storm in a teacup, and ends with a dramatic solution. The subplot feels forced, relying on exaggerated gossip to dramatise Aarti's marriage, which clashes with the film's nuanced VERDICTDespite this flaw, the film's depiction of a strong, flawed female leader was groundbreaking for its time, challenging stereotypes in a male-dominated industry. The human story at its core - a love tested by ambition and time - makes 'Aandhi' timeless. The formula has been copied many times, almost verbatim in later films like 'Pyar Jhukta Nahin', underlining its evergreen Gandhi lost the 1977 election. When 'Aandhi' was re-released by the Moraraji Desai government, the audiences embraced its nuanced take on power and vulnerability. The film's success was a reminder that Indira Gandhi may have been defeated, but she wasn't forgotten. Like 'Aandhi', Indira Gandhi also got a second chance at redemption.'Aandhi' remains a must-watch for its bold storytelling, unforgettable performances, and its unflinching look at the personal costs of political life. It's a reminder that behind every public figure lies a private struggle, and that art, even when banned, has the power to endure and provoke. Watch it to witness a masterclass in filmmaking, music composition, and to reflect on the timeless truth: kuch toh log kahenge, but the heart knows its own story.P.S.: In 'Aandhi', Suchitra Sen is styled after Indira Gandhi. She wears crisp sarees, and has her trademark streak of grey. Habib Ahmed, the famous stylist, once revealed Indira's hair was 99 per cent except that grey streak, the rest had to be dyed black. 'She had it done first in France, and then I took over,' Habib revealed, adding that he saw the PM once or twice a week to help her maintain her iconic look.
India Today
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Pakeezah: A poignant reminder of Meena Kumari and India's poetic past
As part of our Retro Review series, we revisit 'Pakeezah', the swansong of two great artists, Meena Kumari and Ghulam Mohammed, composed like an elegy for a forgotten Pakeezah (1972)Cast: Meena Kumari, Raaj Kumar, Ashok Kumar, MuradDirector: Kamal AmrohiMusic: Ghulam Mohammed, NaushadBox-Office Status: Super HitWhere to Watch: YouTubeWhy to Watch: For its painting-like frames, lavish sets, poetic dialogues, and the haunting melodies that linger like unforgettable of the Story: A husband and wife can create magical romance on the screen, even if their marriage is a tale of sorrowadvertisement'Pakeezah' is a journey into an India that once was, and a lament for an India that can never return. It is a picture postcard from a languid era of thumris, shayari, poetic repartee, and a culture defined by the refinement of language and decadence of Nawabs. It makes you nostalgic for the tik-tik of tongas, the whistle and whoosh of railway engines. It makes your heart beat to the khanak of ghungroos and the taal of tablas. 'Pakeezah' isn't just a film, it is a chapter of forgotten history, a romantic musical singing a lyrical past.'Pakeezah' is a feeling like holding a petal soaked in morning dew to the lips, tasting wine that's been ageing for decades, or hearing the rustle of fine muslin on a silken body. Only the memory lingers like a bittersweet pain of an experience bygone. Defining it requires the magic of Kamal Amrohi, who started this haunting masterpiece as an ode to Meena Kumari, his wife, but ended up creating a poignant memorial to the great tragedienne, a celluloid shrine to her eternal A Poetic LegacyKamal Amrohi, the film's director, producer, and writer, was born in Uttar Pradesh's Amroha, a town famous for its abundant mango orchards. Kamal's cousin Jaun Elia is one of the foremost shayar of Urdu, with a cultish following among fans. Poetic flourishes, it seems, ran in the family. Kamal, though a filmmaker, treats every frame of 'Pakeezah' like a painting, nourished with the nazakat (delicacy) of a nazm. (Credit: IMDb)The film establishes its poetic metier from the outset with a refined, lyrical screenplay and evocative visuals. It opens with a leisurely voiceover in Amrohi's luxuriant tones, segueing into a breathtaking scene. On a bustling street in a city of Nawabs, a horse-drawn coach slices through the crowd, its hoofs' clatter weaving a sonorous jugalbandi with the chime of ghungroos (ankle bells).From a row of havelis adorned with jharokhas (overhanging windows), the strains of a thumri and the rhythmic thaap of tablas drift upward, crafting a symphony of a bygone era. In each jharokha, at least a dozen in number, dancers in swirling anarkali ghagras perform kathak. Moments later, Lata Mangeshkar's voice rises above the melodious clamor, heralding Sahibjaan (Meena Kumari) in pinks and gold, her presence a nostalgic blend of beauty and vibrant colours and rich strokes make every scene a Raja Ravi Varma painting. Sahibjaan pines for Salim (Raaj Kumar) in flaming reds as yellows and greens sparkle over turquoise water. When they romance, in fleeting moments, waterfalls gush through hills, and the silhouette of a boat floats under a silver moon. When her heart breaks, a lone red kite dangles from a barren tree on a dark night. Every scene plays out to the sound of an alaap, or a thumri, creating lilting Silence of MusicEven in silence, there is music and poetry. Despite its absence, the film forces you to imagine it. In one scene, Sahibjaan, a courtesan, is sitting in her mehfil (social gathering). The musicians start playing their sitars, mandolins, and tablas, and wait for Sahibjaan's vocals. As the patrons twitch nervously, Sahibjaan, lost in her lover's thoughts, stares with a pained expression. There is a stunned silence, but seeing her plight, you can feel Amir Khusrau's 'Chhaap Tilak Sab Chheen Li Moh Se Naina Milayake' pulsing in the background. advertisementThis sequence, incidentally, ends with an ode to cultural refinement. Instead of getting upset with Sahibjaan for not performing, the patrons leave her mehfil with a poetic complaint:'Majboor Dil Bhi Kya Shah Hai, Usne 100 baar dar se uthaya, Main phir bhi 100 baar chala aaya.'The film is most remembered for Raaj Kumar's iconic lines about Meena Kumari's feet. But every word in the aforementioned scene is an undiscovered gem.A Tribute To Meena KumariWith its visuals and words, the film is a triumph of Amrohi's vision and grandeur. When it was released, he was panned for the opulent sets, the riot of colours, and pious dedication to detail. Fifty years later, it is the template for costume dramas and musicals, and filmmakers like Sanjay Leela Bhansali pay regular homage by imitating Kamal's art. (Heeramandi is almost a sequel to 'Pakeezah'). advertisement(Credit: IMDb)When Amrohi conceived the film in the early 1950s, he had just married Meena Kumari. He wanted 'Pakeezah' to be a tribute to his love. Meena Kumari, in her early 20s then, was stunningly beautiful, a vivacious, playful girl of films like Baiju Bawra. By the time 'Pakeezah's filming began in 1969-70, her life had turned into a tragedy of a painful marriage with Amrohi, failed romances, and at the age of 40, battling with life-threatening cirrhosis, she pulls off a performance laced with subtle dances, suppressed smiles, and swallowed tears. Her eyes, heavy with unspoken grief, mirror the soul of Sahibjaan, carrying the weight of her own unfulfilled one scene, when asked her name, Raaj Kumar calls her Pakeezah, the pure one, an apt description for her portrayal of a tawaif (courtesan)waiting for someone to rescue Purity of ArtLike Sahibjaan, the film also went through an agonising, almost tragic, wait of two decades. Its music composer, the unheralded Ghulam Mohammed, died a decade before the film went into production. He created immortal melodies whose success he couldn't savour. And Meena Kumari died within a month of release. advertisement(Credit: IMDb)History is a study of change. 'Pakeezah' serves as a chapter of history because it tells us many things. Apart from being a chronicle of Meena Kumari's life, it reminds us how our cultural contexts have changed in the past decades.'Pakeezah' is a Muslim social drama. Its idiom and language is inspired by Urdu. Its plot is simple: a courtesan's quest for acceptance by society, and a Muslim patriarch's reluctance to do so, a bit of an anachronism for the swinging 1970s. But the film ran for 50 weeks in India, 33 of them were house-full. When Meena Kumari, born Mahjabeen Bano, died, Indians flocked to theatres in a spontaneous outpouring of mass India was culturally a 'Pakeezah', the pure one. It was a nation that knew art can't be seen through ugly prisms of narrow identities. Pakeezah is, thus, a requiem for Meena Kumari, Kamal Amrohi, Ghulam Haider, and Indians who made the film immortal. Because of them it remains a timeless ode that invites generations to rediscover the purity of art that transcends time.
India Today
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Hamraaz: A prophecy of Vimi's real-life tragedy
As part of our Retro Review series, we revisit 'Hamraaz', a film that mirrors the tragic life of its leading lady, the beautiful Hamraaz (1967)Cast: Sunil Dutt, Raaj Kumar, Vimi, Balraj Sahni, Mumtaz, Madan Puri, Manmohan KrishnaDirector: BR ChopraMusic/Lyrics: Ravi, Sahir LudhianviBox-Office Status: Super HitWhere to Watch: YouTubeWhy to Watch: For its breezy transition from a romance to a relationship triangle, and finally a whodunitMoral of the Story: Trust your spouse even if they are trying to hide secrets (because sometimes the past is complicated)advertisementActor Vimi was a mesmerising enigma. Her beauty was so striking it could have launched a thousand ships, yet her expressions were wooden, likely due to her inexperience as an 'Hamraaz', her debut film, Vimi was tasked with a complex role, portraying a whirlwind of emotions. Over the first two hours, her character Meena falls in love, elopes, loses her husband to war, mourns a stillborn child, remarries, discovers her child is alive, and almost reunites with her first husband, miraculously returned from the dead. Yet, through these trials, Vimi's performance remains restrained, relying on her graceful presence. Her sole achievement is her statuesque presence, standing with the frozen aura of a divine sculpture. If only Vimi had navigated life with similar stoicism, we might have seen more of her. Photo credit: IMDb advertisementIntroduced to BR Chopra through connections, including the film's composer Ravi, Vimi, a mother of two, and a part-time singer, was cast as the lead in 'Hamraaz' against prevailing Bollywood norms. The film became the highest-grossing movie of 1967, and Vimi emerged as a fashion and style icon. Bold and beautiful - she famously posed in a bikini - Vimi seemed destined for her life unraveled swiftly. Her next two films flopped, her husband, whom she married against her family's wishes, abandoned her, and Vimi spiraled into darkness, struggling with loneliness, failure, alcoholism and financial hardship. She died in 1977, alone in a hospital, leaving behind a tragic legacy.'Hamraaz' echoes a similar tale of love, loss and death, like a prophecy of Vimi's tragedy. It is an eerie foreshadowing of her own descent into heartbreak and PLOT'Hamraaz' opens as a breezy romance set against the lush meadows of Darjeeling, beneath a turquoise sky, immortalised by Mahendra Kapoor's 'Neele Gagan Ke Tale.' Meena (Vimi), falls for the dashing Captain Rajesh (Raaj Kumar), who slays it in stylish caps, goggles, and army her father's disapproval of an army officer as a son-in-law, Meena marries Rajesh in secret. But their bliss is short-lived; the next day, Rajesh is called to war. When his name appears on the list of the fallen, Meena collapses - a classic Bollywood cue for a doctor to announce the imminent arrival of a stork, miraculously after just a night of arrives with Kumar (Sunil Dutt), a stage artist leading a troupe to rally support for the Indian army. Smitten with Meena, he expresses his intent to fall in love and worship her, aptly conveyed by a rare Mahendra Kapoor song in low is hesitant but is softened by three breezy songs and her father's insistence. Meena weds Kumar, hiding her past to start anew in Bombay. For four years they live happily, without being bothered by storks. Alas, Vimi, thy destiny is secrets unravel with the appearance of a child thought dead and a mysterious figure in two-tone shoes. As Meena scrambles to protect her past, she meets a tragic end, with Kumar as the prime suspect. Who killed Meena? What's the secret behind the shoes? The film resolves these mysteries, ending with a hint of new romance for GOOD, BAD AND UGLYIn its first half, 'Hamraaz' glides like the Darjeeling toy train through picturesque locales, propelled by Ravi's timeless music, Sahir Ludhianvi's philosophical poetry, and Mahendra Kapoor's soaring voice. Sahir, ever the magician, casts his spell with profound words, especially 'Na Munh Chhupa Ke Jiyo,' a stirring anthem of resilience through life's trials. Set against the backdrop of the 1962 war, the song serves as a rallying call for Meena, and India, to discard setbacks and face life with Chopra brothers, BR and Yash, were masters of pace, ensuring sharp narrative transitions. After five songs in an hour, 'Hamraaz' shifts from a musical to a lost-and-found plot, then a mystery, and finally a its energy, the murder plot stumbles with glaring holes. Characters make illogical leaps, like assuming a death without evidence, and the police investigation, led by Balraj Sahni's gravitas, feels absurdly simplistic, as if the writer ignored basic investigative logic and relied on the credulity of the audience. Photo credit: IMDb Despite plot holes that could have accommodated Kumar's lavish sets, the film's chaotic pace, its music, and Dutt's dynamic energy keep audiences engaged. In the films of the '60s, it was almost customary to showcase a bare-chested Sunil Dutt (rewind to 'Waqt', another Chopra classic).advertisementIn 'Hamraaz', Dutt's shiny bod, its modesty preserved by a minimalist trunk, is on display for a full five minutes. To heighten the film's allure, BR Chopra skillfully weaves in a side plot. Mumtaz, with her captivating charm, romances Dutt on stage in figure-hugging black-and-white dresses, delivering a masterclass in fashion. However, this subplot falters slightly, veering into shrill and moralistic territory with sermons on spousal loyalty drawn from Shakespeare's soul of 'Hamraaz' is the debonair Raaj Kumar. His regal presence and scotch-soaked gravelly voice are straight up lit, radiating killer vibes. Tragically, his screen time is scant and scattered, with not a single line to showcase his iconic dialogue delivery. Only Chopra could have revealed the raaz (mystery) - spoiler alert - of obscuring Raaj Kumar's face for much of the second half, zooming in instead on his dual-tone shoes. This tired suspense tactic, already used in the horror mystery 'Bees Saal Baad', feels like a cheap trick at the cost of Raaj VERDICTDespite these flaws, 'Hamraaz' is a typical Bollywood beast, steered by Ravi's melodies, Sahir's poetry, and Chopra's pacey direction. Its genre shifts and a stellar cast make it a wild ride that could have been more fun if it were memory that haunts, though, is Vimi's life: a star who shone briefly in 'Hamraaz', only to be extinguished by flops, abandonment, and addiction. In the end, the film is a requiem for Vimi, a bitter reminder that sometimes, the reel tragedy pales next to the real one.
India Today
25-05-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Ankhen: The sanskari spy who shunned martinis and saved India
As part of our Retro Review series, we revisit 'Ankhen', the 1968 spy thriller that outgrossed every Bollywood film of its year, blending James Bond swagger with desi Ankhen (1968)Cast: Mala Sinha, Dharmendra, Mehmood, Kumkum, Nazir Hussain, Jeevan, Madan PuriDirector: Ramanand SagarMusic/Lyrics: Ravi, Sahir LudhianviBox-office status: Super HitWhere to watch: YouTubeWhy to watch: For tacky gadgets inspired by 007; wacky villains inspired by Hitler; and trendy women's fashion inspired by LebanonMoral of the story: Duty over desire, because India's enemies don't stand a chance against a sanskari spyadvertisementWhat do you get when Ramanand Sagar takes off on James Bond? A 007 who doesn't smoke, isn't bothered about Martinis - shaken, stirred or bugged; and runs away from gorgeous women hitting on him. In short, a sanskari spy - a satyugi avatar of the kalyugi secret agent of drinks, dames, seduction and 'Ankhen', the man who gave us Maryada Purshottam Ram two decades later on Doordarshan, gives us Sunil (Dharmendra), a globe-trotting spy who just wouldn't cross the Lakshman Rekha of maryada. Two beautiful women literally stalk him. But every time they snuggle up to him, Sanskari Sunil lectures them on desh, duty and dharma. No wonder one of them prefers death to the company of a spy who, unlike Mike Myers' Bond avatar, just wouldn't, well, shake a 'Ankhen' is the antithesis of Bond's nocturnal games. But not his diurnal gadgets. Like the arrows that kiss each other to the sound of hissing snakes before falling off in 'Ramayana', Sagar conjures some really tacky gadgets. One of them, like a compass, goes tu-tu-tu whenever Sunil is around. Another, a stethoscope clone, picks out bugs in the (aforementioned) liquor bottles in a Lebanon hotel. In one scene, Sagar beats the future Tom Cruise with a mask that turns a deshbhakt into a traitor. Pity he didn't apply for a patent - the revenue from 'Mission Impossible' would have widened Sagar's 'Ankhen'. Photo credit: IMDb Ankhen's script is both pretentious and prophetic. It features a Kingsmen-like network of saviours - in this case retired INA officers - ready to rid India of its enemy is a curious herd. The head is Dr X, Jeevan, who barks orders through clenched teeth and a voice fraying at the edges, suggesting that he could benefit from a prescription of laxatives. Dr X, who dresses like Hitler in khaki and answers to the call sign of Napoleon, runs a den somewhere in the northeast of India. His goal: destabilise India for the benefit of you-know-who. (Hint: Not Pakistan).advertisementHis most ominous asset is 'Madam', Lalita Pawar. In one scene, the diminutive Pawar slices through a group of men, slashing them with karate chops. For this run alone, 'Ankhen' deserves a Sunil is dispatched to Lebanon to find out who this mysterious Doctor X is. The task is a cinch. Everyone in Lebanon speaks Hindi, and two women, the ones who whisper sweet nothings into his dispassionate ears, are ready to illogical thing leads to another. And Sanskari Sunil completes his DHARAM SERVES COLD Halfway through, you wonder why Dharmendra signed up. His Sunil enters in a Jodhpuri coat, looking like a groom ditched at the mandap, not a suave spy. No dhai-kilo dialogues, no steamy escapades - just a yawn-inducing sanskarism that leaves Garam Dharam the penny drops: 'Ankhen' isn't his film. It's Mala Sinha's show. A box-office titan in the late 60s, Sinha owns every frame. Photo credit: IMDb advertisementShe fits into hairstyles, kimonos, sarees, skirts, and Arabian dresses with equal flair. She stalks Sunil through Japan in a made-for-her intro, belts out Ravi-Sahir's songs in a dramatic platter of emotions, and guns down baddies in the isn't just a spy saga - it's a feminist fest with Sinha kicking stereotypes as deftly as she does gets his moment, though. In a scene made for him. Locked in a cage with a tiger guarding it, he doesn't just escape - —he saws through the bars and wrestles the beast, setting the template for Bollywood's macho showdowns in the 70s, when tigers were in huge its wild gadgety jugaad, 'Ankhen' is a time travel to the 1960s Bollywood - outrageous, earnest, and illogically entertaining. Rewind it for the nostalgia, stay for the sheer audacity of a sanskari spy who makes 007 look like a rebel without a cause, and wine, no women, only desh. That's 'Ankhen' for you.
