Between Reviews: Five minutes of fun and nothing else?
FIVE MINUTES OF FUN AND NOTHING ELSE?
MAY 4, 2008 – THERE’S THIS QUESTION THAT SENDS ACTORS on deep voyages of introspection, as they chew their lower lips and ponder about how and why their characters came to be. It goes, “What’s your motivation?” And of late, I’ve been creating scenarios in my mind about what it would be like if the same query were put forth to the songs in our cinema – say, Chhaliya, from Tashan. So here I am, intrepid pop-culture reporter, recorder in hand, approaching this number, fawning about how good it looks up there on screen (to which the response is a shimmy shake and an indifferent toss of blonde curls), and asking about its motivation, its reason for existence – and all I get is a blank stare. It could have been a question about quantum mechanics I’d posed. Chhaliya pouts and examines an invisible chip at the corner of a lacquered fingernail. After a minute, the silence is broken by a booming laugh, as director Vijay Krishna Acharya joins us. “You’re looking for the reason I have Chhaliya in my film? To show off my heroine’s brand-new size-zero shape in a two-piece swimsuit, that’s why.”
And that’s how surreal the placement of songs in our cinema has become – even of songs that aren’t supposed to be surreal. The only considerations seem to be: Is there a hot heroine? Are there good-looking backup dancers? Are they all in the kind of locations that could fill up a hundred travel brochures? And, does the number have a groove that can be extrapolated to an evening at a nightclub? When the heroes and heroines in the earlier days used to be in Andheri one second, and off in the Alps the next, they’d at least be celebrating their love. Or something like that. Our rational minds may have balked at the sudden change in scenery, but the emotional temperature didn’t change, and that was alleviating to an extent. Who knows? Maybe their minds saw undying love as a five-minute break in climes hardly suited to sleeveless blouses and chiffon saris, the way we daydream about beachfront escapes involving rainbow drinks with tiny umbrellas while we’re chained to our desks between nine and six. But what to make of Kareena Kapoor, who’s apparently out to avenge her father’s death, and is now – just before immersing his ashes in the Ganges – giving the audience the come-on in Chhaliya? Who knows? Maybe her mind sees revenge as a series of pelvic contortions on a boat filled with a dozen other hotties.
Now, if you’re going to ask me what prompted the preceding paragraphs – in other words: “What’s my motivation?” – I’d have to point towards an afternoon of flipping television channels and landing on Ravindra Peepat’s Waaris. Actually, I didn’t know it was Waaris, as this happened to be one of those rare channels that didn’t feel the need for commercial breaks, after which the re-entry to the next installment of the film would be announced with the kind of fanfare more appropriate for an imperial coronation. I stopped because I saw Smita Patil and Raj Kiran, two of my favourite actors of the eighties (the former because of a number of films, the latter mainly due to Hip Hip Hurray). They got married, and then he got killed, and I stuck on because the film turned interesting. It was something about the problems faced by Smita Patil’s character (named Paro) in holding on to the land that belonged to her husband, now that he’s left her without a waaris, an heir. (Call it melodrama, call it old-fashioned and hysterical, but if the films today had half as interesting a story hook as this one, our cinema halls would be much happier places to visit.)
At some point, Amrish Puri – twirling his handlebar moustache and playing the villain, what else? – taunts Paro that all her efforts are in vain, as he’s her father-in-law’s (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) brother and he has three sons, so the land will end up theirs. And Paro decides to get her father-in-law married off again, so he can produce a legal heir to the property. The minute Paro walks into Kharbanda’s home and asks him to make a promise that he’ll do anything she asks, and he replies with an unflinching nod, I thought she was going to do something really icky – like asking him to marry her. (So she’d be marrying her dead husband’s father, the way Hema Malini married her dead husband’s brother, Rishi Kapoor, in Ek Chadar Maili Si). But no – the girl Paro has in mind is her younger sister, Seebo (Amrita Singh). After the inevitable protests, Kharbanda agrees – and the reason I’m telling you all this is because the very next scene has the lovely duet, Mere pyaar ki umar ho itni sanam. (That’s when I knew the film was Waaris.)
Placed anywhere else, this would have been just another nice number that Seebo sings with Bindar (Raj Babbar), just another declaration of love, but placed here – after Paro’s decision to marry off Seebo to someone else, someone older, for some reason Seebo isn’t even directly affected by – the song acquires a special poignancy. Here they are, the young lovers, uniting their names on a wall with sticks of charcoal, and you watch with the sinking dread that they’re soon to be separated. See what a difference this one song makes? See how consequential it is? And see how few filmmakers today – with the exception of an Ashutosh Gowarikar (case in point: In lamhon ki daaman mein from Jodhaa Akbar, which is a grand physical culmination to the hitherto platonic love story) or a Farhan Akhtar (case in point: Agar main kahoon from Lakshya, which lays out, in a few minutes, through lyrics and music and choreography, more about the characters played by Hrithik Roshan and Preity Zinta than reams of clumsy expository dialogue could; he’s a goofball slacker through the entire song, while she looks like she’s going to enlist any instant in a hipster equivalent of the Narmada Bachao Andolan) – are interested in anything of this sort? To most of them, music is just mindless filler. That’s why I’m writing this piece. That’s my motivation.
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very well written, you have articulated something i have been thinking about for a while
Perfectly put. I fervently hope that one day we are not led to a situation where all we are watching is just a bunch of glitzy music videos. A song should complement a story, not overshadow it, unless, of course if it’s a musical which you are so fond of watching
. The thing is to sell a movie, these days we things have to resort to such “ITEM” numbers. I hope good old cricket doesn’t go the same way !
Sometimes the songs add so much to the narrative and gestalt for a film – Kuch Kuch Hota Hai did not have very good music in my opinion, but the two songs – Hai Hai re hai yeh Ladka at the start followed by Ladki Badi Anjani hai towards the end – beautifully tied the two halves of the film together! Relevant and well placed songs make Indian cinema unique. Well placed and relevant songs also refresh our memories about films. I think Indian cinema has a better recall value because of this and background scores or even songs placed in the narrative of Western cinema do not provide this identification factor for those films. But today most music is just suitable for clubbing and dancing and not really organically linked to the narrative. Some songs in recent memory that played a recall role well – Mitwaa in KANK, Chand Sifarish in Fanaa, Badal pe Paaon Hain in Chak de, Jhoom Barabar Jhoom/Bol na Halke Halke in JBJ, Main Agar Kahoon in Om Shanti Om, Dil Dance Maare in Tashan.
Well placed songs often help to tie parts of the film together. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai did not have very great music but the two songs – Hai Hai re Hai yeh ladka in the early part and Ladki Badi Anjaani hai in the second part – tied two halves of the film together and generated much nostalgia for the developing relationship even as we watched the film. Such songs also provide a unique recall value for our film. If the songs express the emotions and meanings of the characters than all you need is to hear a few lines and the mind can provide the visuals. Dil se was a case in point – the songs were mostly fantasy numbers but the lyrics so beautifully expressed the emotions of the characters that this album can take you on a journey through the film just through the audio. Some recent songs that help recall the film – Chand Sifarish in Fanaa, Mitwaa in KANK, JBJ/Bol na Halke Halke in JBJ, Main Agar Kahoon in Om Shanti Om, Maula Mere in Anwar. Sadly enough such moments are getting more and more rare, and Tashan is an egregious offender – except for Dil Dance Maare there is no other song that actually says anything of value in the film. But why bash only Tashan – U Me Aur Hum was pretty awful in this respect with filer songs that had no meaning or organic connection with the narrative.
Oops – sorry for the glitchy almost double post! Please ignore number 3!
brangan: After having us mull over “intent” last week it seems only logical that you have “motivation” be the next grist for our mental mill, no?
ankur above succinctly echoes my thoughts about this piece and Neelu has oh-so-nicely recapped a lot of what coursed thru my mind as I read it.
Loved (and laughed over) your personification of Chhaliya in para one. The reference to Waaris brought back many memories. It’s wonderful to see how you’ve managed to marry your motivation to the moviemaker’s mood-of-the-moment (”music is just mindless filler”) in a meaningful way. Keep on truckin’.
ankur: Thanks man.
Ramesh: Oh, but good, ol’ cricket HAS gone the same way. Or have you been under a rock this past month?
Neelu: “Relevant and well placed songs make Indian cinema unique.” Oh absolutely, which is why I get irritated whenever a filmmaker moans and groans about fitting in songs, and gives excuses like the subject not demanding songs. I mean, that’s the challenge, isn’t it? BTW, “number 3″?
Sagarika: Oh, that personification bit worked? Nice. Thanks.
BR: Great to read about Waaris, which was my favorite movie in the year it was released. It was actually the melodrama that hooked me on. The only problem I had with the film was that Rekha’s voice didn’t suit Smita Patil much. Or maybe one expected Smita Patil to speak in the particular way (natural?), while Rekha’s voice came across as very measured and rehearsed, I revisited the film again a few weeks back and it still held the same appeal as it did 20 years back.
Here’s a link to the meri pyar ki umar ho itni sanam:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=aVn1UMrlcp0
Reading this article led to another thought. We all crib about the pathetic quality of Hindi films and music in the 80s. But I think that even the worst of films with the worst of songs in the 80s at least had right placement of songs (in most cases), which is hardly to be seen these days. Even the gaudy Jeetendra-Sridevi-Jaya Prada numbers (most of them dream sequences in bizarre surroundings – pots, fruits, sarees, et al) didn’t come out of the blue like Chhalia. If Jaya Prada and Jeetendra were dancing surrounded by sarees there was some logic – even though weird -behind it (he had given her a ‘tohfa’ of a saree, afterall).
Dunno man..not entirely convinced about your motivation..I think you just wanted to put up a pic of Kareena. Where can I get that green bikini pic
Oh sorry – I wanted my post at number 3 to be ignored as I hit SUBMIT before I had completely reviewed it.
It seems that some directors take much more interest in the music that will be associated with their films, they have a vision. I think Farah Khan is in that category. Others want to paint by numbers.
Great post. A lot of the music I’ve been listening to on the radio during evening walks is the sort of stuff I cringe to see when it plays on TV, and this is pretty much why — the Chopra stable appears to be floating more and more soundtracks on the basis of a couple of dhinch item numbers. But I suppose the brittleness of the music is just a small-scale reflection of the larger purpose of movies like ‘Race’ and ‘Tashan.’ Which doesn’t appear to be much.
I was watching ‘Jab We Met’ last weekend, a film with lovely music that doesn’t quite cover up for how superfluously some of it is used. No doubt the world is a better place for the existence of songs like ‘Yeh Ishq Hai’ and ‘Nagada Nagada,’ but both came at places in the screenplay where the writing was fairly crackling, I thought, and put a sock in the proceedings.
But he more than made up for it with the ridiculously sappy ‘Tum Se Hi,’ which proved to me that a good song can be worth a thousand lines of expository dialogue.
Aditya Pant: Oh, that was Rekha. That’s why somehing seemed to be off… Great work on the decade-wise Lata M posts, BTW. Been meaning to see all those videos, but haven’t had the time.
Srini: Dang. You got me there
roswitha: I thought Nagada was woven in quite nicely. The beginning of the loosening-up of the uptight Shahid in that boisterous Punjabi milieu… sorta worked for me. About the ‘purpose’ of movies like Race and Tashan, I agree. But as Aditya says, earlier, even these films used to have some reason to segue into a song, and now it’s just not there any more.
BR: Thanks for visiting my blog. I was always thinking about doing these LM posts, but the idea took a concrete shape only after those LM related discussions on your blog
Nice article.Chaliya song made me wonder too about the ashes and stuffs.But then, the whole movie didnt make sense to me at all !!!
Speaking of ashes, you were especially right about Ashutosh. Each song of Lagaan, if u’d quite notice, had a story behind it and it becomes a part of the movie.Simply brilliant.
Lovely article. The personification of the song reminded me of Rosie Perez in “It could happen to you”. I guess that is how you know a personification works. If only more people knew how to use music or even just sound in film (this is why I adore Ilaiyaraja’s talents, they should just call him shabdagnani rather than isaignani). Its the difference between “Pothuvaaga en manasu thangam” and “Ella pugazhum oruvan oruvanukke”.
vimal: Swades too.
Deepauk M: Okay, I’ll clear off now, and you can handle the fan(atic) flames, if any
BTW, my current earworm is ‘Aazhkadalil mutkulikkum azhage’, from HJ’s Dhaam Dhoom album. heard it? Love tune. Beautifully sung. Lovely words too (”ichaikku ilai vaikkavaa” and such). HJ may not have much range, but he sure knows how to work within those confines.
O man!! I didnt mean to hide an agenda in there. Here is an addendum: It is also the difference between “Oruvan Oruvan Muthalaali” and “Ella Pugazhum”. The trumpets go so well with cadence of the horse-hooves of Rajni’s “chariot”. Hope I have assuaged everyone who is line waiting to be offended. I’m a lover not a fighter.
Regarding Dhaam Dhoom: Yes Harris “Deja Vu” Jeyaraj is definitely the “Red” Redding in Tamil cinema’s supposed current creative prison (I remember reading somewhere that raaja said “Ithu mint street-la okkaanthu japam panra maathiri”. I thought that was hilarious!). And not to be a tamil activist or anything but the lines are “Aazhiyile Mukkulikum” not “Aazhkadalil” though technically it means the same thing. Singing “Aazhkadalil” might affect the “laya” of the song, which is exactly why you love the “ichaikkor ilai vaikkavaa”. Since you brought the song up excuse the tangent. I like to play this game where I imagine how I would shoot the song. This one is definitely post-coital in nature (The protagonist is in bed and staring at his partner, not in a serial-killer kind of way though), but then this isnt a Kamal movie so I might be setting myself up for disappointment. Other such disappointments include “Vaseegara” and “New York Nagaram”. Oh Well! For now its a nice little “poopol poopol en nejai koidhaval”.
PS: About the words I dont know who wrote them, Na.Muthukumar I assume. The reason I brought up the fact that “aazhiyile” works better than “aazhkadal” is (IMO) the notes are very mellow in that portion, the “mellinam ya” fits much better in the thaalam than the “vallinam ka” in “aazhkadal”. Contrast that with meter for “muKKulikkum” or “ichaiKKu” or all the “vaiKKavaa”s. In those minutiae lie the genius of the lyricist.
My personal favorite lines in the song are “adi vaanam sivandhaalum, kodi-p-pookkal piLandhaluum unai pola irukaadhu azhagae”. Inhale and gargle these lines like a fine wine and you’ll understand the imagery it conjured in my head.
Oops. I meant “idaiyinam ya”. I hate it when I get all “insighty” and make dumb mistakes
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deepak, that’s also the difference between rajni and vijay
HJ sure can work within his confines. Much like Maragadhamani aka MM Kreem aka MM Keeravani used to.
Deepauk M: “I’m a lover not a fighter.” MJ would be so proud.
And crap. Of course I meant to write Aazhiyile, which is what drew me to the song in the first place. Talking of imagery, I also like the vision of a beauty sizzling in the steam/heat (of the morning sun that one can perhaps assume came up after her mukkuli?) 
It’s been a while since a song conjured up such vividly beautiful images. I must say I prefer HJ to Yuvan, whose music just doesn’t do anything for me. Maybe I’m just not “young” enough 
Raj: It’ll be a long diatribe if I star on vijay. “Nallathor vijay seithe athai nalam keda puzhuthiyil avane vittuvittaan.” Maragadhamani had some lovely albums – Devaragam, Azhagan etc.. Plenty more in Telugu. But I think he is more in the Vidyasagar mold. They both love the shringara rasa ragams.
Rangan: Yuvan definitely scores in the BGM department over HJ (It is probably in the genes.). Mounam Pesiyadhe is a favorite album of mine and the BGM was incredible. The Meera Jasmine theme in Sandaikozhi was excellent, almost on par with Sita’s score in Aan Paavam (and that is huuuuuuuuge praise). His inconsistency is his issue, Billa was largely unimpressive except for Seval Kodi. Kattradhu thamizh was salvaged by his dad’s rendition of “paravaiye” and Satham Podathey was quite a dud. But he’ll get there, I have hope.
@ Br:
HJ’s music was good. But offlate, his music is so repetitive and is very much predictable. He constantly reuses his tune, very evident in Anniyan, Unnale Unnale.
The issue with Yuvan like what Deepak mentioned is his inconsitency. Probably it could also be because he gets involved with a lot of projects. But definetely his BGMs are simply superb and is much better than Rahmans too.
Vidyasagar i feel is the most underrated music director we have in the South today. His music for the Malayalam movies are fabulous; but I guess in Tamil he is subjected to a lot of masalas. And even though he had churned out a lot of hits than his counterparts, his name is never recalled or mentioned among the top music directors.
I guess the first I really noticed Vidyasagar was when I heard his score for Jai Hind. He does have his strengths though he loves his Reethigowlai and Dharbari Kanada (as do many other composers with their fav ragams). Sometimes, I feel a Vidyasagar album is almost based on a formula.
Coming to HJ, he is beginning to sound as though his bag of tricks are coming to an end. I do love some of his scores (with emphasis on the bass guitar, synth or otherewise) but his BGM skills are highly questionable.
I agree with Deepauk on Yuvan. He is highly inconsistent and I agree he has really improved in BGM scoring. If you ask me about sheer composing skills, I would probably rate Karthik Raja higher, though he has his negatives too with excessive dependence on electronica (in his case, doesn’t sound that great).
Ultimately, I guess the bar is set too high for these guys by the “big 3″ and unknowingly, we will keep evaluating their music relatively (which probably doesn’t do too much justice to them).
I often feel I can say, “there’s a sample, there’s a sample” while listening to HJ’s music. ARR, Yuvan, etc. use them too, but they’re better about morphing and meshing them into an organic sound. And HJ has copied ARR a few times. Orugalluke Pilla from the Telugu film Sainikudu is more than a little similar to Chaiyya Chaiyya.
Back to songs in Indian films. It is such a strange thing for a character to start singing that it takes a particularly good director to include songs in a film and not have it break the immersion in a film. In most films whenever the song starts I am aware again for a moment that I’m watching a movie.
That’s why I appreciate Guru Dutt’s lack of musical interludes (with a few exceptions). There is no break between dialogue and song lyrics, which doesn’t give you time to think, “Hey, a song is starting.” It also helped that the songs flowed from the narrative.
Shankar: I don’t have a problem with the same ragas being used (assuming that composers decide to base the song on one, as opposed to the song merely turning out in a raga) as long as the treatment is fresh. And my Harris observations were based solely on the songs, not BGM. But oit’s interesting what you say about the Big 3 — because on a very broad level, MSV left his stamp on the melody line, IR on the arrangements/orchestration, and ARR on the presentation/sound. So I wonder what’s left that a new composer can stake a claim to and say, “No one’s focussed on this before. Let me make it mine.”
Ravi K: Sample or no sample, when it comes to easy listening, I still respond better to HJ’s music than to Yuvan’s (though the latter, if he puts his mind to it, dores come up with the odd Paruthi Veeran). If I were to take someone from the house of Raja, I’d rather listen to Karthik, though he doesn’t do much these days.
Maybe the next big trend in Indian film music will be inspired by John Cage or Philip Glass
br, a lot of people have this aversion for Yuvan and an almost-unexplainable preference for Karthik – and I am one of them.
Maybe, you could articulate it for us
Yuvan has not done much for me either, except the odd Paruthi Veeran or not to forget, in case you have forgotten, Nanda. Mun Paniyaa was as dew-fresh as you could get. Somehow, his other scores dont hold up barring a slightly okay Pattiyal here and a Mounam Pesiyadhe there. When he is bad, he is really god-awful bad, and when he is good, he is just, uh, good
maybe that’s the reason!
A couple of news-bits which might be of interest to you:
1. The third progeny of Raja, Bhavadharini, did come out with a lovely album in Amirtham. You must listen to it.
2. Karthik Raja has the recently released Chakravyuham which has recevied good reviews for the music – admittedly, these are from my 4-5 contacts who I think are the only KR fans in the world apart from me but I trust them so I can stick my neck out here for Chakravyuham