Saagar - an Unexpected Favourite

A couple of weeks ago I saw Naseeruddin Shah at a TIFF Bell Lightbox event in Toronto and, among other entertaining topics, he talked about his experience shooting Kamal Hassan's Hey Ram!. Naseer complained that the make-up he was required to wear to play Gandhi was so elaborate that he could barely act from behind it. After refusing to wear some parts of the mask, he allegedly even told Kamal to play the role of Gandhi himself, since the actor's personality would not come through anyway because of the prosthetics. This made me laugh a lot because I've been complaining about Kamal's obsession with prosthetics for a long time now: it's distracting to the point where I can't enjoy his acting and it's been getting worse. I'm terrified of Vishwaroopam for that very reason. But anyways, all this to explain what made me decide to hunt down Kamal's older movies, from before all this make-up nonsense even existed. This is how I ended up watching Saagar. And good thing I did because it confirmed why Kamal is considered one of the greats in Indian cinema! I absolutely adored him.

Saagar reminded me a lot of Rangeela (though reminded is the wrong verb since Saagar preceded Rangeela by a good decade), minus the brilliant Pyaar Yeh and minus Jackie Shroff's bikini. You win some you lose some, I suppose. Saagar has a very similar love triangle: childhood friends Raja and Mona live in a fisherman's village where they have everything they need despite being poor. In comes Ravi, the rich heir to the developing fishing business, and falls in love with Mona. Ravi and Raja become friends without realizing that they love the same girl. And the story goes on from here.

Part of the reason why I can't stand older films is because they rely so heavily on silly plot devices to create over the top melodrama. So the whole time while watching Saagar I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Raja and Ravi start becoming friends and singing songs together I thought: Oh God, any minute now they'll discover they love the same woman and they'll start competing for her and turn into assholes. Luckily this fabulous song was not ruined by such a follow-up.


When Raja later confesses his love for Mona to Ravi asking for his advice on how to express his feelings, I thought: Here we go, cue in lame scene where one character confesses someone else's love while secretly confessing their own. And I know you know exactly what I mean which is why I won't even bother to clean up that sentence and make it intelligible. Surprisingly, that doesn't happen.

Finally, about halfway through the film, when Raja finds out about Mona and Ravi and he's running heartbroken on the beach I thought this is it, for sure he'll trip on one of those rocks, hit his head and fall into a coma that will prompt a guilty Mona to give up Ravi. And imagine my surprise when that didn't happen either! As it turns out, the entire movie was written with common-sense and, barring the occasional "nahiiiiiiin" and "yeh shaadi nahin ho sakta" scene, the filmi tropes didn't poke their ugly noses into the story in an offensive manner.

What I liked most about Saagar was that all the main characters make their choices based on their own moral compass. Not because of the family honour, not because of the societal pressure and certainly not because of emotional blackmail. Actually, for once, the emotional blackmail goes the other way! Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to see a movie like this coming out of the 80s? I mean, sure it has the required twists and turns later on, and yes, some of them employ some of those pesky tropes, but it is Bollywood after all, not even I would expect it to be completely devoid of melodrama. What's important is that the three main characters keep it real and honest, they speak their minds when needed and don't leave room for misunderstandings and silliness.

Dimple is so gorgeous in this movie, even more so than usual!

For once I never felt the need to yell at the TV or throw shoes at it. Believe me, this is a first for me while watching a movie older than 2001. Well, I did get bored towards the end when all the drama-shrama was happening (and coincidentally, that was also the time when Kamal wasn't around for a good half hour of the film), but hey, it's a small price to pay. Especially when you're bribed with exquisite filmi moments such as this one:

Saagar surprised me in more ways than one. It's also the first movie where Rishi Kapoor was completely out-charisma-ed by his co-stars. Dimple is always a joy to watch, especially when she's looking as glamorous as she does here (despite her "common girl" status, but hey, what's Bollywood without the designer clothes?), but the real star of this movie is Kamal Hassan who steals every scene, every song, every frame. He has these little gestures, this light in his eyes, these little eyerolls, chuckles and smiles, I tell you, I was mesmerized. Of course it helps that he was so easy on the eyes too back in the day.

For crissakes, he even pulls off the all-demin + unbuttoned shirt outfit! How many other actors can do that without looking like complete fools?

I don't think I'll ever subscribe to the belief that old is gold, but if a movie ever came close to swaying me, Saagar was that movie. And it feels right for it to be the first oldie to get a full blogpost around here. I wish more people would talk about it, but maybe it's not melodramatic enough. Oh well, it was just the right amount for me, so if you haven't already seen it, I highly recommend it!

Saagar (1985, Hindi)
Director: Ramesh Sippy
Starring: Dimple Kapadia, Kamal Hassan, Rishi Kapoor
Music: RD Burman

Anbe Sivam Review

I noticed recently that I hardly ever write about Tamil movies on this blog. For one they're so damn expensive, and when buying blind that can become quite risky. Plus, of the ones I've watched, not many gave me that "I need to write about this movie this very second or I will die" feeling. Not many at all. I haven't spent many sleepless nights thinking about them either.

Dolce: Of course, we are not talking about Arya's bewitching eyes here, are we?

Namak: What? No! Stop it! I mean it!

So I was recommended Anbe Sivam a while ago by Mukundh on this blog and decided to risk buying it despite not knowing what to expect (thanks, M!). For the first hour I can't say I was impressed, it felt like a story I had seen before, just told slightly differently. It turns out I never did see the Hollywood movie that Anbe Sivam resembles in parts, which is Trains, Planes and Automobiles but nonetheless it sort of felt familiar. I did like the cinematography (always a sucker for films with a lot of rain and water) so I kept watching for that. 

The film starts with Anbarasu (Madhavan) and Nallasivam (Kamal Hassan) who meet in a busy airport in Orissa and after a few frictions and a plane delay, they end up sharing a room at a two star hotel. Anbarasu is a bit of a know-it-all, always in a rush, always plugged in, he doesn't have time for chatty old men. But Sivam just doesn't care and he goes on yapping and being friendly despite Aras's visible efforts to get him off his back. This was supposed to be the light side of the movie, the "comedy" plot, but since physical comedy was never my thing, I was just waiting for it to be over and for Sivam's story to begin unfolding. After a few more adventures and mishaps, it does.

Sivam, who now looks like this:

used to be a passionate fighter for union rights, a self-titled supporter of communism. 

Heh... Only in an Indian film would you have Communism, Christianity and Lord Shiva in the same person.

Dolce: Oh no, are we going to get all prickly now because here they go again using communism in Indian films as if it's some great system that will change the world?

Namak: Ha! I guess normally we would, but I found they used it rather well here. I appreciated that Sivam fully acknowledges in an episode later in the film that it did not work. But he still stands by the philosophical part of it, which obviously I have nothing against. Even Plato was a communist in that sense, when did I ever complain about that?

Dolce: So all the hammers and sickles and all the red didn't bother you this time?

Namak: It's an exaggeration to say that they bother me at any time, it bothers me when they are used with blatant ignorance, but in this particular case, while retaining my personal opinion on its virtues and flaws, I did not find anything to criticize in Sivam's belief system.

Dolce: Oh good, because I wasn't in the mood to argue about that.

Namak: But while on the topic, you know what did bother me?

Dolce: Damn, I left my guard down too soon... What?

Namak: What bugged me was that the only female character other than the heroine was a communist only to get Sivam to notice her! So much for girl power, you know, so much for women thinking with their own head. I found that bit particularly odd especially in the context of equality and fraternity. Really? The rest of the film talks about rights for everyone and about supporting home-grown talent, but meanwhile the only female character that's given some depth turns out to only be interested in politics and equality because of love? I found that somewhat degrading.

Dolce: Well, there's no clear dialogue that shows she was not interested in politics, maybe it was both. Maybe it was the subtitles...

Namak: The subtitles? Yeah, that's a good point. Fine... we'll give her the benefit of the doubt on this one. But I am not happy with how it was presented.

Dolce: All right, duly noted.

She's not as badass as she seems

Well then... To clear the air a bit, let's talk about something else. South Indian film makers seem to have a thing for Salvador Dali. I noticed a lot of Dali prints in Prasthanam, and in this one I could swear the logo (of the Production House maybe?) at the beginning of the film was Galatea of the Spheres.

At a closer look: it is!! But it gets even more interesting. The episode with Sivam painting a mural for Bala's father immediately reminded me of an episode in Diego Rivera's life, and sure enough after some research I found that it was indeed inspired by it. Not only that, but even the mural in the film is a cross between Diego Rivera's Man at the Crossroads and the same Galatea of the Spheres. With Marx in it too! Fascinating! 

Anyway, that's not necessarily relevant for the film, that was more of a trivia moment, and also an opportunity for me to rejoice at being able to fill in the blanks of symbolism without external help. Which of course doesn't happen often with Indian films, so I have to brag about it on the rare occasions when pop/art culture I am familiar with gets referenced. 

As the story goes on about Sivam's past life, we find many themes dear to South indian films: corrupt businessmen, greed, globalization vs protectivism, rich girl loves poor boy, love triangles, machetes, social justice, falling in love songs, and while some are more interesting than others (I for one did not care for the non-existing chemistry between Sivam and Bala, the heroine), they make for an engaging watch. Which is just as well because really, the most important part of the film is the last half hour.

Now maybe because I am coming off reading Jose Saramago's last novel: Cain... An author that has a knack for placing divinity on a human level and who toys with representations of God that are far from reverent. An author who was also, incidentally, an ardent fan of communism. Or maybe because the film itself is ambiguous that way, what with Sivam's uncanny ability to reappear every time we think him left behind for good, and what with his name being one of the names of Shiva. Or maybe because I was wondering while reading the Ramayan how did everyone know without ever being told that Rama was Vishnu himself in human form, which prompted the question: in a modern context, would they still know this?

I don't know why, but seeing this film with all these other ideas running in my head, I couldn't help but wonder: who was this Sivam? And if the message of the film is that God is everyone who feels love and compassion, why does he still strike me as surreal in his patience and his grace towards Anbarasu? And why is the sister nurse so close to an angel?

Namak: Taking that a little bit further, the real question for me is: what if you met God on a train? And what if God didn't have anything interesting to say? What if you had to listen to hours of yapping and snoring before even getting the message he's trying to give you? 

Dolce: Yes, what if?

Namak: Well, how many people would have the patience for it? How many people would even make it to the part with the message instead of successfully shaking the pesky traveling companion by starting their iPods? Most people these days are exactly like Anbarasu.

Dolce: No way, he's a prick. I would not mind making conversation with a pleasant old man.

Namak: You may not, but I for example am not interested in a conversation that gives me nothing in return.

Dolce: But... what can a conversation ever give you in return?

Namak: It doesn't matter: knowledge, information, entertainment, closeness, an emotion. Anything. Even anger if it's a debate. But a character who has nothing interesting to say, I would not waste time with them.

Dolce: In that case, maybe you would not meet God, don't you think?

I know I could stick to the film's original message,  because there are so many sides to the events in the film (so many of which I have not even touched), but I blame it on Saramago, and I can't help but think of a more mystical way of interpreting Sivam's character. 

But... even without my ramblings, and despite its slow pace, I really enjoyed Anbe Sivam, and it was one of the few Tamil films that made me rush to the laptop and start writing! Nice feeling!

It seems a little wrong to give this a cheese rating, after all it's a film whose title translates as Love is God, but I will anyway. Anbe Sivam was a surprising delicacy for me. It's like fried Camembert: creamy, cheesy and warm on the inside, crunchy on the outside and the last bite is always the very best one!