Ms Heroine can, when she wants to, break the law and get into bed with Ratan Lal. Because she possesses the heavy hammer of her father’s wealth. What was she waiting for? Tough to say. Opportunities have to be created to resolve a problem. Why wait for the solution to drift towards your boat?
The other thing that troubles me is this: Ms Heroine chooses, when thrown out, to not go to her father, but a stranger. Then, theatrically, she bumps into her sister and is told that their father is dying. When she goes home, he praises her for her courage in “leaving” her husband. And he wills all his wealth to her out of admiration for this courage. He doesn’t ask her where she was all this time, and why she had now returned home.
Another strange thing about the story. To show that Ratan Lal is possessed by Ms Heroine, Barua uses a very tacky device. He has Ratan Lal bump into a friend in the market. The friend insists that Ratan Lal come home with him: ‘I’m having a party. Show your magic there.’
This magic, telepathic communication, is difficult to depict. It is shown instead with the girl receiving voices in her head and having a conversation with the hero. I thought this was unbecoming of a director like Barua. It seems as if he’s in the cinema hall, whispering into the ears of his audience: ‘Please remember viewers, that the heroine is on our hero’s mind. The… Heroine… Please… Understand…’ It was as obvious as that.
Zindagi is a well-packaged film. I suspect Barua recently picked up a few tips from Europe. I wish, like Barua, I could turn this review into a film. Alas, I have no New Theatres to back me. And without New Theatres, a film like this cannot be made.
Afterthoughts (a few lines written after the review was finished).
I repeat: there is no life in Zindagi. It has death, and a lifeless sort at that. The image I have of this movie, now that I can look back at it, is that of a colourful balloon losing its air slowly. It is said this film represents a rebellion against society. A woman with her delicate hands breaks open the bonds that have been imposed on her.
I saw the film with these eyes of mine and I saw her bravery nowhere. I only saw her cowardice. Indeed, from one end of this film to the other, not one act of daring can be seen.
The film begins with a scene at Ratan Lal’s house. The rent hasn’t been paid. Hearing his landlord’s voice, and fearing a confrontation, the terrified hero slips out of his house unnoticed.
Through the film we see that the hero and heroine keep running scared, even from those who are not enemies. Why would anyone want to chase them? And why do they hide all the time? Why are they alarmed by every sound?
Mr Abbas and Mr Jamil might be able to answer this in their way. I have my own explanation.
These two characters are not the people they should have been. Let me explain. Ms Heroine has been thrown out by her husband. She pines for love and male companionship. What does she do? Attach herself to the first available man she meets. We see the expression of her love on screen, and that’s how it should be, because she is hungry for it. Hungry for physical love. She doesn’t particularly care to know — for she doesn’t even ask him — who or what Ratan Lal is. She just jumps straight into his lap because he’s a man.
She is bold enough to sleep in a room with him, but not bold enough to own up to this. And I couldn’t figure out why they kept crying all the time instead of doing something about it. Surely she was bold enough to have seen the thing through?
And why abuse society? When Ms Heroine is considering spending the night in Ratan Lal’s company, society doesn’t knock on the door and tear them apart. Nobody objects to their wandering about openly in the streets either.
Whatever Khwaja Abbas might say, the fact is that the two of them are aching to be in bed, but they also want that the society shouldn’t have a problem with that.
This story was just about the two of them. They could have done as they wished, and what difference would it have made to society? Would it have brought Armageddon? If not, what was the point of this film? It has no bearing on reality, no relation to society. It is merely the story of one couple’s inability to have sex. That’s it. Why make it out to be something else?
The film calls itself Zindagi, or life. Life is not about a man and a woman. Life is about action. Life is a struggle. Life is about staying alive. This loser of a hero, who has an MA and who sings like an angel, could have earned thousands of rupees a month if he had chosen to work instead of whining. He knew how to perform magic, but he’s shown winning only a counterfeit, two anna coin and wandering about the streets. I regret that it was
Ms Heroine who was killed off in the end by the script. I wish Ratan Lal had gone instead, a useless man. He loves her but curses the society.
Had I been the society, I would have slapped the fool so hard he wouldn’t have had the courage to stay an unemployed vagabond.
And another thing I didn’t understand. When her father thinks she has done this great thing, he makes over all his wealth to Ms Heroine. She promptly begins to give it all away to charity. As an act this is fine, but what aspect of her character was driving her to do this? Was she doing it to get into heaven? It’s all a mystery.
Khwaja Abbas says those who go to watch Zindagi should carry two handkerchiefs with them. I agree.
One to wipe your tears, the other to wipe Barua’s!
— (Originally published as Zindagi — Isi Naam
Ke Ek Film Par Review)
What Bollywood Must Do
What would Manto have made of Bollywood? I don’t think he would have been surprised by the fact that it remained in Mumbai (he would be amused by the city’s renaming). He understood quickly and instinctively that this was the only place in the subcontinent that was both civilized and liberal to support an industry that could only blossom on the cusp of immorality. Manto would perhaps have been disappointed and pleased at today’s Bollywood. Disappointed because the higher aspects of what he expected from the business never materialized except in what we know as art or alternative cinema. He would have been pleased because film has been the most effective medium for spreading ideas, more than print. In this essay, he sets ideals for the industry he worked in and loved, and had to let go when he later moved to Lahore.
In 1913, Mr D G Phalke made India’s first film. He thus began the art of filmmaking in the subcontinent. It was his dream to bring cinema to India and the dream was realized when he sold his wife’s jewels to raise money.
However, the dream that the progressive youth of India have seen has still not come to fruition. There is but one reason for this: the people in charge of moviemaking here are old-fashioned and simple-minded. They have neither the desire nor the intention to progress. No art can come out of this lot, whose lives are like still waters.
India’s youth, whom I am representing, who want to explore every aspect of life, who want to soar in flight despite having their wings clipped, aren’t satisfied with the state of filmmaking.
They are witless children, yes, ignorant of the ways of the world, true, and vagabonds, perhaps. But the desire in their hearts, the eagerness on their faces is worth something. It should make the fat-walleted businessmen, who control the Indian Motion Picture Congress, ashamed.
But in fact these young Indians are thought to be sick. And indeed they are. They are infected with love for their country. They want to mount the chariot of the State and see India delivered to its destiny, where other great nations already stand. They are willing to die for this.