Cinema in India, as elsewhere too, is one of the most crucial parameters to gauge the changing shifts in society – at political, sociocultural and even economic levels. A film is not created in a vacuum. It has its own distinct space, roots and character.
At the outset, I wish to declare that I believe in looking at Hindustani cinema based on Indian parameters. Cinema in India is a genre in itself. One should not look at and analyse it on parameters made commonplace by the West. The Western definitions of the words ‘musical’ and ‘melodrama’ are not applicable to Indian cinema. In the same way, the idea of a ‘multi-starrer’ or a ‘devotional’ film might sound alien in world cinema.
When a film is made for Indian audiences, it needs to be evaluated and understood from their perspective. The perspective of looking at a film should depend on the origins and circumstances of its viewers. I am not sure if
I subscribe to Paul Willemen’s ‘Cinephilia’, the theory which suffers from considerable neglect in film theory.1 Instead I consciously attempt to look at Indian films through a certain innate Indian-ness.
That said, I have translated Gulzar’s Aandhi on self-established paradigms. An attempt has been made to look at the structure of the film, by being cognizant of the fact that the story is set against the turbulent political backdrop of elections and politicking between various political parties and its leaders. The analysis of the cinematic text led to the exploration of the visual, narrative and self-reflexive elements of the film. This book further explores the very essence of the film: the love story between a hotel manager (JK), and his ambitious wife (Aarti), who aspires to be a minister one day. A close textual analysis has been adopted to view the film and delve into its layers.
Sumita S. Chakravarty2 points out that the Hindi-Urdu word for a film screen is ‘purdah’, or curtain – that which hides rather than reveals. Popular Indian conception of the cinema, therefore, associates film with the invisible rather than the visible. Building on this premise, one can unravel the ambiguity apparent in a film.
I am also wary of the generic classification of films into ‘art’ cinema and ‘popular’ cinema. These parameters have been created by different theorists and critics. However, most films cannot fall in such distinct categories. What are the base parameters that put the films in tight compartments? Would a film be ‘art’ if it depicted the harsh reality of a country? If it featured a romance-driven plot with song and dance sequences, would it be ‘commercial’ cinema? It doesn’t stop there. There are various categories in commercial cinema as well – mythological, historical, action, romantic-comedy, etc. Also, there are Indian commercial films which do well overseas, and has an international presence. What about films like Pyaasa (1957), Mother India (1957) and Mughal-e-Azam (1960) – to name only a few – where the so-called boundaries between art and commercial cinema clearly seem to have blurred and merged? Aandhi is one such film. It was a commercial success – featuring a strong, memorable love story, which was also a tongue-in-cheek comment on the then political scenario of the country.
This book is divided into five chapters. It begins by looking at its filmmaker, Gulzar, and how Aandhi is a director’s film, all the way. The first chapter also focusses on why he chose this story, originally written by Kamleshwar.
The second chapter focusses on the controversy surrounding the film. Critics pointed out the resemblance of the film’s female protagonist, Suchitra Sen, to the then prime minister of India, Indira Gandhi. This eventually led to a ban on the screening of the film. It also expands on how Aandhi goes beyond a mere romantic film and becomes not only a statement of the then political situation in India, but also alludes to the undercurrents between the common man and his ideas about the political leadership of the country.
The next chapter is on the film’s stellar cast – comprising not only the actors who played the two protagonists but also those in supporting roles, all well etched out.
Poetry plays a crucial role in the screenplay; so the fourth chapter is on the songs, which played a major part in making the film a commercial success. Three of the songs in the film showcase three different stages in the life of the couple and their complex relationship. Another important song, a qawwali, is a strong political commentary on how a common man views politicians.
The last chapter in the book looks at the language used in the film. The dialogues have both wit and humour – both in scenes involving the personal lives of the couple and those highlighting the political drama.
The interview of the filmmaker has been referenced throughout the book. It has also been provided as an appendix, as it gives a strong insight into the many things that went into the making of Aandhi. The lyrics of the songs form the other appendix.