|It's a delicate thing, "making" people watch a film with you.|
However, it's still a treat to watch Bollywood NOT by myself, and it's an ongoing class in filmi chemistry to see which films go with which situations (and which people!).
Like watching something that I probably wouldn't enjoy by myself . . . and finding that with a friend, the film transforms becomes a different entity altogether. For example, I watched Karan Arjun (1995) recently with my saheli from Hindi class, Kayshree. By all rights, it shouldn't have been my thing at all . . . but still. Even though I knew it was likely to be problematic in certain areas, but still. I knew that even Bad Wolf,with the nuclear power of all her Shah Rukh love, couldn't find it in herself to like it, but still. And I knew that Rakhee was likely to be a disappointing shell of her former 70's glory, but still.
All those "but stills" really mean that it was Kayshree's favorite movie, so I couldn't exactly say I didn't want to see it. And to be honest, I was kinda more than a little curious.
|Proving that sometimes Tumblr is really the best|
But would I have enjoyed it as much without a movie watching buddy? I mean, yelling a secondary villain's catchphrase at the screen every time he walked on? "What a joke," indeed. Luckily, for all her Karan Arjun adoration, Kayshree was was totally secure enough in her long-term relationship with the film to be able to laugh at its foibles and freakishness.
And then there was Gaddar.
Ok, every bollyblogger and their mother discovered this film (from 1973) in the last year or two. So much so, that when I was first stalking filmi blogs, I couldn't get away from it. And I had absolutely no idea what anyone was talking about. I'm sure it was the first Hindi film from the 70's I ever stumbled across in recap/review form. Originally, still in the couple of month dark period of newbieness, my eyes were blind to anything more than 15 years old, and I couldn't quite wrap my brain around it. (Plus I saw a bunch of screencaps of snow sans romance or saris, and that was just confusing. . .)
I watched it with my brother . . . a plan I had been cooking up for a while, mostly involving strategic name and theme dropping. No matter that I hadn't seen it, yet. It just seemed like our kind of thing . . . we both have a huge fondness for ensemble heist films. Plus, he's in the movie business himself, so he's all about films that showcase character actors.
And then there's the soundtrack straight from Ennio Morricone's personal sheet music, and the accompanying homages to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly and other spaghetti westerns. . . not to mention classic tales of greed like The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. My brother and I LOVE westerns (and we're picky about them to boot), and I never expected to see a western set in Himachal Pradesh. Although, perhaps I should take a cue from Russian cinema and call it an Eastern, instead.
This film is awesome, no matter how you look at it. But it certainly would have been harder to approach on my own. I had heard SO much good about this film that I really needed someone to watch it with me and KEEP me out of my own head/expectations. It worked.
P.S. My brother also watched The Train (1970) with me, on my second viewing. This also got high marks (surprising for a Rajesh Khanna film--an actor I love, but wouldn't especially ask anyone else to like), for its' innovative cinematographic style . . . a style my brother pronounced the most intuitive and refreshing he has seen in any Bollywood film thus far. Also, Helen.
Speaking of the proper respect, one also finds in viewing Bollywood with random attendees, that not everyone is as easily seduced by the dulcet tones of Asha Bhosle. My middle brother's girlfriend, M, almost flipped out during a New Year's item number fest . . . looking like she was about to murder us for about three songs until we couldn't take the heat anymore. Apparently, bollywood songs are "screechy." I'd never heard Asha described as screechy before that. First time for everything.
But, to my brother's credit, he didn't let her get off so easy. I recently came home to find a group huddled 'round the TV, including M, watching Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. The evil Hindi villain in my filmi heart felt vindicated, and quite fuzzy around the edges. It's amazing what a year of
I could also talk in hushed tones about Sharmilee (1970) and how I couldn't properly appreciate it's genius until I watched it with my sister. No, I'm not even joking! It was a fabulous sister bonding experience. The first time I saw the film, I didn't really enjoy it till half way through. But, the second time, with my sis, I realized how awesome the beginning was . . . we both swooned over the Shashi & Rakhee and the mountains and fuzzy animals and the fashion and the bad girl/good girl dynamics.
Through watching Sharmilee with my sister, I quickly learned that not everything good can be appreciated in a vacuum. Some films beg for a larger audience. Sure, there are certain romantic films that should NEVER be shared in full with another human (Blackmail, I'm looking at you), but should be kept secret and safe and all to oneself. And then there are masala films masquerading as romance films.
|Is this a sensual embrace? Or a criminal investigation? Even Shashi is confused.|
I think Sharmilee fits in this category . . . which explains my early confusion with it I think. Perhaps Seeta Aur Geeta deserves a similar re-watch under the same conditions.
|Namak Haraam (1973)|
Plus, gosh, people who eat and breathe Bollywood make friends quicker than you can say "Dil Se."