BOLLYWOOD - more in the world’s eye today than ever before — projects the image of a colossus whose feet may be muddied, but whose hands reach up to touch the sky.
Much dreaming, enterprise, and passion went into the creation of this colossus. Way back in 1913, Dadasaheb Phalke, the founder of Indian cinema, saw his dream emerge as the mythological Raja Harischandra, which took Bombay city by storm. In the early 1930s, Himansu Rai, a shrewd businessman gifted with imagination and flair, gave shape and continuity to Phalke’s dream by founding Bombay Talkies at Malad.
Then, suddenly, as if by the wave of a magician’s wand, film studios started mushrooming all over the place, each specializing in its own genre of cinema — Bombay Talkies in social pictures, Prabhat in Poona in mythological and purposeful films, Ranjit Movietone in comedies, Wadia Movietone in stunt films (featuring “fearless” Nadia), New Theatres (Calcutta) also in social themes, S.S. Vasan Studios (Madras) in “pageants for the masses”, Prakash Pictures also in stunt films (with Jayant as the hero) before graduating to mythologicals of the caliber of Bharat Milap and Ram Rajya, the latter being the only film Mahatma Gandhi ever saw.
Those were the days. Filmmaking was still far from assuming the dimensions of an industry. The average cost of a film was approximately 40,000 rupees. The highest paid actress then was Sulochana (Ruby Myers), who earned 5,000 rupees a month. Stars in those days were on the payroll of the studios. There were only 2,000 cinema houses in the country and the overseas market fetched no more than 2,500 rupees per film. Each director was, as it should be, the auteur of the film. The films were socially purposeful — dealing with child marriages, widow remarriage, the dignity of poverty, Hindu-Muslim unity and so on. Cinema in India was experiencing its first dawn and filmmaking was less of a gamble and more of an adventure, when the stars wove movie magic and filmmakers dared to dream and shape the dreams of wide-eyed audiences.
The studio system was remarkable in many ways. Most remarkable was the strict discipline it was able to enforce, which later filmmakers were totally unable to do. On one occasion on the sets of “Temple Bells,” Sulochana, acting opposite Ghulam Mohammed, finding his Hindi pronunciation funny, kept bursting into giggles after every take. The no-nonsense director, R.S. Choudhary, after warning her several times, reprimanded her right there on the sets. Sulochana was enraged and walked out in a huff. Shooting was canceled. The next morning, she complained to the veteran studio proprietor Ardeshir Irani. But he stood by his director and told her firmly that she should either apologize to the director or she would be replaced in the film. She had the good grace to apologize, and Temple Bells went on to become a hit.
The worsening situation during World War II and the consequent shortage of raw film stock posed a grave threat to the studio system. At the same time, old-timers like V. Shantaram, Mehboob Khan, and S.M. Yusuf, and newcomers like Raj Kapoor, Bimal Roy, and Guru Dutt emerged as creative filmmakers. Shantaram’s “Dr. Kotnis Ki Amar Kahani” anticipated the co-productions of the future. Mehboob’s “Anmol Ghadi,” remarkable for its top-notch production values and performances, was the first to deal with the theme of amnesia, which was to be worked and reworked in umpteen films.
Muslim socials dominated the pre-Partition period. Yusuf’s “Devar” established the genre that was often to be repeated. A.R. Kardar’s “Shahjahan” was his last spectacular historical. Other important films of that period were “Omar Khayyam,” notable mainly because it was the great K.L. Saigal’s first Bombay production, and Kishore Sahu’s “Sindoor,” dealing with the theme of widow remarriage, which was to recur in several subsequent films. K. Asif, a true genius, was glamorizing history with his magnificent “Mughal-e-Azam,” now revived in color. Raj Kapoor was busy shooting “Aag,” starring himself with Nargis, which was to give Indian cinema its most enduring image of a romantic couple.
Ezra Mir’s “Zarina” had a certain curiosity value in that its hero Jal Merchant kissed Zubeida no less than 48 times — and got away with it. Other noteworthy films were Filmistan’s “Shabistan,” starring Shyam and Naseem Banu, directed by Bibhuti Mitra; Sohrab Modi’s “Jhansi Ki Rani,” featuring his wife-to-be Mehtab; “Pagal,” directed by A.R. Kardar, featuring Prithviraj and Madhuri; and “Lachak,” directed by S.I. Dharamsi, with Geeta Bali and Amarnath.
The continuing shortage of raw stock led to the pernicious licensing system whereby producers had to get permits to make films, which in turn became the breeding ground of corruption and indiscriminate freelancing of filmstars. When C.M. Trivedi, a producer, signed up the green-eyed Chandramohan (then on the staff of New Theatres) for a film titled “Apna Ghar,” the freelancing system was born, with all the ills that came in its wake. Adventurers, gamblers, racketeers who had made their pile in the war years in businesses often of a dubious nature, all were attracted by the glamour and speculative nature of the film business, the high stakes and undreamed of higher returns. Without any stake in the film business, these new independent fly-by-night producers began to make offers to stars on a per-picture basis instead of salaried employment in the studios, which was then the system. Freelancing became the practice instead of the exception it had always been. Stars not only defined the economy, they began to determine the very existence of the film “industry”. By the mid-1940s, the studio system was destroyed without being replaced by any sort of system. In the chaos that ensued, films began increasingly to appeal to the lowest common denominator in audience taste. The fast lowering standards of public taste were cynically made the excuse for further pandering to this taste!
At long last, the government, which was so preoccupied counting the golden eggs, became aware of the goose’s dying gasps. A Film Inquiry Committee was constituted (1951-52) with S.K. Patil as chairman and film stalwarts like V. Shantaram, B.N. Sircar and S.S. Vasan among its members. The committee made several sensible suggestions such as setting up the Films Division to produce documentaries on India’s vast cultural heritage, a film and television institute to teach direction, acting, associated film techniques, and film appreciation, a film finance corporation to promote “films of good standard and quality, with a view to raising the standards of filmmaking in India,” and a national awards system to recognize and reward merit in filmmaking.
Unfortunately, the committee’s major recommendation to set up a film council to provide filmmaking with a sound organizational base was not taken up in spite of being promised by no less than three information ministers in Parliament. Instead, the worst happened. Seeing that the Indian film world was a house divided against itself, the powerful underworld, ever on the lookout for fresh fields and pastures new, had been trying for quite some time to become controller of the “house”. Repeated extortion demands began to be made on the top stars; stars were made, under threat, to sign up with favored producers; stars were compelled to adhere to dates given to such producers or to shift dates from one producer to another more favored. Imagine the supreme irony of the underworld becoming a partial financier and a sort of “regulating” force in a chaotic film world!
Discipline was thrown to the winds. As recently as in 2004, Alexander de Greenwald, production manager of Richard Attenborough’s “Gandhi,” stated (in the Bombay Times) that Indian filmmakers need to get more professional if they really want to be considered as an industry. “I’ve worked with Sean Connery in his prime and Richard Gere. But once we had signed the completion bond and individual bonds with the actors, they knew they would have to adhere to the timings we set. I’m surprised to see that Indian actors turn up three hours late and often postpone the shoot because they are shooting for someone else.”
Despite the deteriorating conditions, established filmmakers with their finger on the mass pulse, continued making sensible films. Producers and directors of the caliber of Mehboob Khan (whose “Andaz” created quite a controversy on the histrionic merits of Raj Kapoor versus Dilip Kumar), Chetan Anand, Vijay Anand (whose “Guide” was the adaptation of a story by Pearl Buck), B.R. Chopra, Yash Chopra, Manmohan Desai, Subhash Ghai and Ramesh Sippy (whose blockbuster “Sholay” is a film for all time) succeeded in combining good taste with mass appeal. These entertaining films not only lived up to what Jack Valenti described as “the eternal verities of good story-telling,” but were brilliantly directed and had excellent production values.
Other later films were B.R. Chopra’s “Insaf Ka Tarazu” on the scary theme of rape and featuring Raj Babbar in the lead; Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s “Anand,” a touching story with Rajesh Khanna as a terminally-ill patient and Amitabh Bachchan as his doctor friend; Prakash Mehra’s “Zanjeer,” which consolidated Amitabh Bachchan’s “angry young man” image; and Raj Kapoor’s tragic-comic “Mera Naam Joker,” which won considerable acclaim. More recent still were Aamir Khan’s “Lagaan,” appreciated as much abroad as in India; “Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gham,” by the talented young director Karan Johar; and the fourth version of the classic “Devdas,” directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali, with Shah Rukh Khan (opposite Aishwarya Rai and Madhuri Dixit) essaying the role made famous by Saigal as well as Dilip Kumar.
Forget the setbacks. Think with your heart. Delve deep into Bollywood’s riches. Was there ever an actor like Ashok Kumar, whose career spanned the industry’s entire history, with such ease and grace? Or a multitalent to beat Amitabh Bachchan’s, or a sense of timing as perfect as Dilip Kumar’s? Was beauty ever better defined than by Madhubala, or a ghazal touched the heart more than as recited by the velvet-voiced, soulful-eyed Meena Kumari? Was there a star who aged more gracefully than Devika Rani then and Waheeda Rehman now? Was there ever a total dedication to cinema like Raj Kapoor’s, or Dev Anand’s artistic persistence? A life more fulfilling than Nargis’, a victim of cancer, whose life purpose became providing cancer relief? A finer gentleman than Sunil Dutt, actor, politician, husband, father? Was there ever laughter more infectious than Suraiya’s, or a sense of social service stronger than Shabana Azmi’s? Was there ever...
Above all else, Bollywood is a born survivor. Look back, consider all that it has had to go through to survive — the apathy and indifference of the government; the crushing burden of taxation and the vagaries of censorship; the racketeers in its midst who befouled its name; the ravages of the star system. Let us hope that Bollywood will survive also the spreading tentacles of the underworld and realize its true destiny — having the dimensions of an industry, to acquire an industry’s disciplines.
(The writer is a former editor of the Indian film publications Filmfare and Screen, and a former chairman of the Film Finance Corporation of India and the National Film Development Corporation of India. His book, “Counting My Blessings,” was published last year by Penguin India. He is currently on a visit to the Eastern Province.)
