Rani Aur Lalpari (India, 1975)

Rani Aur Lalpari might seem like your friend, because it offers you the opportunity to see some of Bollywood's biggest stars of the 70s in a context that you probably never could have imagined you would. But, kids, make no mistake about it: Rani Aur Lalpari hates you.

What the film will eventually give us -- among many, many other things -- is a series of fantasy sequences featuring cameo appearances by those stars, but, first, director Ravikant Nagaich must establish a framing narrative drenched in misery. Of course, the theme of fantasy as an escape from life's cruelties is an inexhaustibly resonant and evergreen one. But what if we, the audience, experience those fantasies, as presented, as cruelties in themselves? Where do we go to escape from Rani Aur Lalpari? (And if you're a Bollywood novice who's surprised to learn that Hindi popular movies are about anything other than singing, dancing and joy, consider that one of the industry's most frequently revisited tales concerns a guy drinking himself to death.)

The film's title character, Rani, is one of those little girls who has developed a rich imaginary life as a buffer against everyday hardship. We see this demonstrated in an early song number in which the penniless and hungry kid fantasizes herself into what looks like one of those old drive-in theater "head to the snack bar" promos, in which she frolics through a landscape made up of garish, over-abundant displays of name brand candies. Looks like the Chiclet tree is in full bloom!

It seems that Rani's dad has been forced by circumstances to seek employment in another country, leaving Rani, her mom (Asha Parekh!), and Rani's pet rabbit Moti to seek shelter with relatives. These relatives turn out to be cruel, glutinous oafs, who, during the days when Rani's mom is off slaving away at her thankless seamstress job, heartlessly mistreat Rani and force her to act as their personal slave. Needless to say, there is a lot of crying.

Even Moti the rabbit cries.

BTW, don't get too used to Moti. He will die. Then again, this is a kid's movie, so how bad could it be?

Oh.

Finally Rani befriends a little boy in a neighboring apartment block who regales her with tales of fantasy and wonder. This provides the opportunity for a couple of extended song sequences in which those tales are acted out by the stars of the day. The first is Cinderella, featuring Neetu Singh as Cinderella, Jeetendra as the Prince, and Reena Roy as the Fairy Godmother, aka the titular Lalpari, which translates as "Red Angel".

The second tale is a very abbreviated version of Gulliver's Travels starring Feroz Khan. I kept waiting for Feroz to drink a boatload of ale and start smashing Liliputians with his fists, but it never happened. Still, it's an enjoyable bit, loaded with lots of dodgy process shots.

Somewhere in all this there's also a school pageant that I think is meant to be some kind of plea for world peace. The kids dress up as the people of many lands and then reenact warfare, shooting at and stabbing each other as explosions are projected behind them. At the end, the stage is littered with dead kids, and Rani, dressed as Mother India, spins around and cries.

Then Danny Denzongpa gets up on stage and gives a speech before handing Rani a trophy.

Finally the happy day arrives when Rani's dad is scheduled to make his return to India. Rani and her mom excitedly head out to the airport, only to see dad's plane, upon making its approach, plummet to the ground and explode. Rani's mom goes into shock and lapses into a coma, dying soon thereafter.

Little Rani then decides that she must travel to the netherworld to beseech Yamraj, the Hindu god of death, to bring her parents back to life. Calling for her mom, she runs out into the surf and plummets to the bottom of the ocean, where she is soon fleeing for her life from a badly rear-projected giant octopus.

I should point out here that Ravikant Nagaich, who is also credited with special effects on Rani Aur Lalpari, also directed the psychedelic curry western Kaala Sona, and that this film sees him give full expression to his obvious love -- only hinted at in that other film -- for creating bizarre fantasy landscapes with copious crude applications of glass mattes and the Schufftan Process. I should also point out that Nagaich later went on to direct both of Mithun's Gunmaster G-9 films, which really isn't relevant to Rani Aur Lalpari, but establishes Nagaich's status as a filmmaker of great import.

Anyway, what little Rani endures from this point on -- and what we endure from this point on -- can only be described as an ordeal. After fleeing the octopus, she comes upon a white robed female figure in a boat, who ferries her along peacefully for a  while before disappearing and leaving Rani in the vessel alone, at which point the boat plummets down a crazy Willie Wonka style vortex. She then encounters a trio of mermaids lead by Padma Khanna, who seems to really not want her to plunge into this fiery red hole that opens up in the ocean floor before her, but she does anyway.

One might think that plunging down this fiery hole would lead Rani to Hell. But, then again, one might be said to be held too heavily under the sway of Christian mythology for thinking so. Then again, when Rani gets to the bottom of this hole she finds angels, which makes this sequence confusing on an impressive number of levels. These angels lead Rani to a statue of the Fairy Godmother/Lalpari from the Cinderella segment of the movie. This vaguely reassuring turn of events aside, Rani Aur Lalpari quickly demonstrates that is far from done being one of the most harrowing children's movies you have ever seen, as Rani then takes a candle and walks in circles around the statue until her hands are covered in scalding hot wax.

Finally the statue turns into Reena Roy, who leads Rani to a place where there are a trio of scary talking heads on pedestals.

And then she and Rani run across a rainbow until they are, for some reason, on the Moon.

I have to admit that the events of the movie really began to blur for me at this point. There was a lot of falling through the abyss and crudely painted nightmare landscapes, and then a part where Rani, now wearing Cinderellas sparkled slippers,  climbed up a ladder into the stars. I did perk up a bit, though, when Aruna Irani appeared on screen for a sapphic, mind-bendingly sexy dance number that involved her being bathed by handmaidens in a flower shaped bath.

Then Aruna takes Rani to Krishna, after which we get a sequence in which Rani appears to have died in the process of her toils, but is then revived by Krishna at Aruna Irani's tearful insistence. Then a statue cries. And, hey, Jagdeep is down there too!

Rather than proceed with this summary, I'm just going to end this review Memsaab style, with a series of questions: Will Rani survive her ordeal and make her way to Yamraj? And, if so, will he grant her wish and, in defiance of all that is right and holy, revive her dead parents? And, if so, will they be zombies? Did you make a child watch Rani Aur Lalpari, or watch it yourself under the influence of psychedelic drugs? And, if so, how sorry are you now?

In the course of typing this, I have continually had to pause to seek confirmation that I did not, in fact, simply dream Rani Aur Lalpari. Even as a B picture it would have been something of a skull-fuck, but the absurd assemblage of A list talent within it takes it to a whole other hallucinatory level entirely. I mean, you bring in Danny Denzongpa just to hand out a trophy at the end of a freaky, ultra violent grade school pageant? Really? I think it's telling that Moser Baer didn't even bother to subtitle the DVD edition of this film, as if seeking to put another prohibitive layer between it and those uninitiated souls who might be harmed by it. Look, I know you don't want to be told that you can't handle this movie. So I won't. But... oh, no, no, I'll shut up now.

Seven days of 70s Bollywood: Geetaa Mera Naam

[This post is part of a week long blog-a-thon, masterminded by Beth of Beth Loves Bollywood, paying tribute to the films of 1970s Bollywood. Be sure to check out the other participating blogs for more about the best decade ever in the history of Indian film-making!]

Geetaa Mera Naam (1974)
Directed by Sadhana Shivdasani
Written by R.K. Nayyar, Madan Joshi
Starring: Sadhana Shivdasani, Sunil Dutt, Feroz Khan, Helen
Music by Laxmikant-Pyarelal

Sunil Dutt's stuffed monkey? The human waxworks? Helen unzipping Feroz Khan's shirt with her teeth? Sadhana's mad kung fu skills? The all-pervading S&M obsession? The comic book color scheme? Helen's weirdest item number perhaps ever? Where exactly does one start with Geetaa Mera Naam? I know: with watching it. NOW!

Read my review of Geetaa Mera Naam at Teleport City



Honorable Mentions:

Charas
Khoon Khoon
Be-Sharam
Inkaar
Warrant
Faraar
Nagin

Seven days of 70s Bollywood: Qurbani

[This post is part of a week long blog-a-thon, masterminded by Beth of Beth Loves Bollywood, paying tribute to the films of 1970s Bollywood. Be sure to check out the other participating blogs for more about the best decade ever in the history of Indian film-making!]

Qurbani (1980)
Directed by Feroz Khan
Written by K.K. Shukla
Starring: Feroz Khan, Vinod Khanna, Zeenat Aman, Amjad Khan, Amrish Puri, Aruna Irani, Shakti Kapoor
Music by Kalyani-Anandji

Despite it's 1980 release date, I doubt anyone who's seen Qurbani would disagree that it is a quintessentially 1970s film. It's as if director/star Feroz Khan looked back upon the preceding decade of masala excess and distilled it down to its very essence. Thus we get bikini-clad disco divas, careening muscle cars, musky bromance, and shameless bare-chested ascot wearing, all set to what has to be Kalyani-Anandji's most downright funky score ever. Qurbani IS the 70s!

Read my review of Qurbani at Teleport City

Seven days of 70s Bollywood: Kaala Sona

[This post is part of a week long blog-a-thon, masterminded by Beth of Beth Loves Bollywood, paying tribute to the films of 1970s Bollywood. Be sure to check out the other participating blogs for more about the best decade ever in the history of Indian film-making!]

Kaala-Sona (1975)
Directed by Ravikant Nagaich
Written by Harish Khatri, Ramesh Pant, V.D. Puranik
Starring: Feroz Khan, Danny Denzongpa, Parveen Babi, Prem Chopra, Helen
Music by R.D. Burman

Yes, of course I love Sholay. But I figured it was safe to assume that it would be paid enough lip service elsewhere during this blog-a-thon that I could afford to dedicate some space to one of my other favorite "curry westerns". Sure, Kaala-Sona may not be as soulful as Ramesh Sippy's classic, but it makes up for that with the kind of violent, pulpy thrills that make it even closer kin to the Italian oaters that inspired it. That is, until the final act, when we find ourselves playing in villain Prem Chopra's surreal realm of boundless, Wizard of Oz inspired poppy fields, at which point Kaala Sona becomes something entirely crack-headed and uniquely its own,

Read my review of Kaala Sona at Teleport City


KAALA SONA - Iqraar jane jaana
Uploaded by bearsurfer. - See the latest featured music videos.

Kabeela (India, 1976)

According to Kabeela, Gypsies -- despite the fact that they wear colorful scarves, love to sing and dance, and have a rakish, devil-may-care attitude toward life -- are bad. Of course, this is a difficult position to sell when the gypsies are represented by the late, great Feroz Khan at his man-furriest mid 70s peak, so you would be correct in guessing that Kabeela is really trying to have it two ways at once.

Feroz plays Mangal, son of the chief of a gypsy tribe who heed not the laws of mainstream Indian society. This heeding not extends to them being a bit bandit-y, as they often steal treasure at the behest of the whiskey swilling, van dyke sporting big city bad guy Mr. Dildaar (Trilok Kapoor). As gypsy prince, Mangal has a rival for succession to his father's seat in the form of the scheming Durjan (Imtiaz Khan), who will stop at nothing -- nothing! -- to seize control of the tribe.

This being Feroz Khan that we're dealing with here, Mangal's rakish, devil-may-care attitude also applies to upper body wear, and so we get ample opportunities to marvel at our star's richly upholstered torso. In fact, this particular tribe turns out to be an ideal milieu for Feroz, as much time is consumed with the men-folk engaging in various competitions to prove their manliness. At one point, a drinking contest between Mangal and his father devolves into the two of them drunkenly hurling knives at each other as the rest of the tribe cheers them on. Good times.

One day when the members of the tribe are in a nearby village plying their snake oil and ill-gotten gains, a runaway bull storms through the marketplace, and Sobha (Rekha), a village belle, falls directly into its path. Mangal beats the bull up and sends it scurrying away, which of course spells instant attraction for Sobha. Unfortunately, the laws of the tribe decree that Mangal cannot marry outside of it, and so the two must carry on their romance in secret. Later, when Dildaar orders Durjan to kidnap Sobha to be his concubine, Mangal disguises himself as a sort of minstrel pirate -- black face, eye patch -- in order to rescue her. This is a cool scene because, when Dildaar pulls out a sword and challenges Mangal, Mangal says that he doesn't need a sword, then takes off his shoe and beats Dildaar with it.

At some point in his relationship with Sobha, Mangal decides that, not just those laws restricting his marriage choices, but all of the tribal laws are bad, and that, for the good of Indian society as a whole, the tribe should subject itself to the laws of its mother country. Not surprisingly, this puts him at odds with pretty much everyone else in the tribe, especially once he starts aiding the determined policeman Inspector Ajay (Sudhir) in his quest to shut down the gypsy's criminal activity. Such perceived betrayal offers Durjan the perfect opportunity to poison Mangal in his father's eyes and thus secure his place as heir to the throne -- or fancy blanket, or whatever the gypsy chief sits on. I didn't do a lot of research for this review.

Among the supporting cast of Kabeela we have Bindu, who plays Bijli, the tribal bad girl who has her sights set on marrying Mangal. Bijli ends up meeting with one of the most ignominious fates I've ever seen befall a secondary female character in one of these films -- keeping in mind that such secondary female characters, especially if played by Helen, typically have a very slim chance of making it to the end credits alive. Once Mangal has been sent packing by the tribe, Bijli charges off on horseback into the dark of night to look for him, only to summarily smack her head against a low hanging tree branch and die. Kabeela really doesn't beat around the bush when it comes to tying up loose ends.

Kabeela is a solidly entertaining film, though, as with a lot of Bollywood films from the 70s, it's choppiness can be a bit distracting. For instance, Mangal's change of heart comes across as happening very abruptly, as if it transpired off-screen while we were busy watching something else. Still, the film has no shortage of swashbuckling thrills and colorful gypsy revelry, and comes complete with a set of appropriately rousing campfire rave-ups by songsmiths Kalyanji-Anandji. If you're looking for a Feroz fix -- and you've already seen Qurbani, Apradh and Kaala Sona -- you could definitely do worse.

Monday's best Feroz Khan song ever

Others have rightly remarked that we should not grieve Feroz Khan, but instead remember him in the spirit that he lived. Here's how I'M going to remember him:



I can never post that clip enough. So awesome.

Feroz Khan 1939 - 2009

From Planet Bollywood:

"Producer-director and actor, Feroz Khan, passed away, late on Sunday night, at his Bangalore farmhouse. He was 70. The actor had been diagnosed with cancer over a year ago."

My review of Qurbani at Teleport City
My review of Geetaa Mera Naam at Teleport City
My review of Kaala Sona at Teleport City
My review of Khotte Sikkay at 4DK
My reviews of Chunaoti and Dharmatma at 4DK
My review of Char Dervesh at 4DK

Feroz Khan rides the white horse

Char Dervesh (India, 1964)

There is a nigh immeasurable gulf between the Feroz Khan of the 60s and the Feroz Khan of the 70s. Someday, through close study of his films, I hope to identify the transition point, the missing link between the dewy-eyed faux Shammi of the early years and the hirsute, two-fisted manbeast that we've all come to know and love. Until then, I just plan to enjoy the hell out of movies like Char Dervesh.

The fact that Char Dervesh gives us a fresh-faced FK doing his best Douglas Fairbanks impression in an effects-driven Arabian Nights-style Bollywood fantasy is tantalizing enough. But that's nearly dwarfed in importance by the fact that the film gives us an opportunity to witness the old fashioned visual magic of the Wadia brothers in glorious, retina-searing Eastman Color. And, rather than on a murky VCD, it comes to us on a relatively crisp, English-subbed DVD from Shemaroo with most of its colors still displaying the full bloom of youth.

The film was directed by Homi Wadia, who is also credited as special effects supervisor, with the great Babubhai Mistry handling the art direction (and, I suspect, some of the effects work, as well). Together they bring us a colorful storybook world densely populated with genies, sorcerers, two-headed ogres, invisibility cloaks, underwater kingdoms, and flying just-about-everything (horses, carpets, etc.).

In addition to the above mentioned visual wonders, Char Dervesh also gives us a couple of wonderfully narcotic musical numbers set to the tunes of G.S. Kohli. One of these features Kumari Naaz singing in front of a chorus line of rubinesque women in cat costumes (all bearing a striking resemblance to the lead performer in that Pakistani Cat Woman movie), and breaks away to a fantasy sequence that looks to be inspired by a Les Baxter album cover, in which Kumari is caught in a giant web and threatened by villain B.M Vyas in the form of a grody, giant green spider. The women-in-prison themed number that brings us into the finale also deserves mention (and screencaps!).

The film actually begins on a darkly surreal and somewhat macabre note, with a grim and broken Feroz showing up at a temple with his skin mysteriously blackened. In the back of his carriage is a giant bird cage in which his two conniving brothers are imprisoned, and, in front of that, a throne on which sits a German Shepherd decked out in royal finery. Feroz tells the gathered seekers that this is what his sad life experience has taught him -- that it is this animal, the only creature in his life to show him consistent loyalty, who should be honored as a king, while his own betraying flesh-and-blood deserve to be caged like animals.

But rest assured that this is neither the beginning nor the end of the story, for Feroz then unfurls the tale of how he came to this state, and, despite the downbeat wrap-around, its one leavened with a fair share of humor and whimsy. In fact, the film even exhibits some instances of winking, contemporary humor suitable to a Warner Bros. cartoon, as when Feroz gets saddled with the world's laziest genie, who has a strict one-wish-a-day rule and is quick to remind his master of compulsory union holidays. Unfortunately, Shemaroo tries to get in on this spirit with some subtitles that seem to be putting an attempted colloquial spin on the dialog, with people telling each other to "cut the crap" and calling "bullshit" on one another. (Oh. well. At least it's a nice print.)

Rather than provide any further plot summary of Char Dervesh, I'm just going to recommend that you see it. If you're a fan of the Wadia Brothers' work -- or just of old school fantasy films in general -- there's a lot to embrace here. Plus, what other opportunity are you going to have to see a testosterone-sweating man-slab like Feroz flying around on a winged horsey?

Whee!