Creepy Indian Longlegs

Unlike a fortnight ago, I've watched several films this week which are worth discussing.

First up is "Bhaag Milkha Bhaag" (2013) an Indian movie which translates to "Run Milkha Run", a biopic of the runner Milkha Singh, known on the sub-continent as 'the flying Sikh'. I've previously mentioned that Channel Four runs the occasional Indian film season, usually buried in the wee hours of their schedules. I no longer watch all of them although they've screened some amazing classics in the past, but do try to 'set' the more promising ones on my Digibox and try to get them cleared when I can. This movie, all three hours plus of it, was certainly a worthwhile and inspiring watch, although I have no long-buried interest in Indian athletics.

The film opens with Milkha competing at the 1960 Olympics where he appears destined for gold, until he looks back over his shoulder to see the rest of the field overtaking. However from this disappointment the film looks considers the triumphs of his career and the very dark factors that shaped him. Born in a poor Sikh village on the new border between India and Pakistan after the Partition, his extended family choose to fight rather than be forced to live in Pakistan and to convert to Islam. He watches them being slaughtered by soldiers on horseback, creating the first occasion where he was beseeched (by his dying father) to 'run Milkha run'. After a hand-to-mouth existence as a refugee, he joins the Indian army where his talent is spotted and he sees this as a way to make something of his life. He succeeds despite various setbacks including being nearly maimed by a group of bumptious athletes and discovering that the village girl he loves has been forcibly wed to another. The crunch comes when Nehru asks him to run for India at a meet in Pakistan which is meant to repair the strained relationship between the two countries and Milkha is hard-pressed to agree to go back to a country which holds such terrible memories.

Milkha is played by the versatile actor Farhan Akhtar, who is not himself a Sikh, but who is believable with his large topknot -- covered by what looks like a small tea cosy when he is not wearing a turban. Of course no Indian movie would be complete without frequent musical interludes -- which is part of the problem I have with Indian movies in general since my Western ear is not attuned to what often sounds like caterwauling. However in this movie, most of the music came from the male characters and was made all the more enjoyable by their very muscular and athletic dancing.

While I'm on the subject of Indian movies, let me very briefly mention one that I watched a few weeks back: "Piku" (2015.). What made this tale of the high-flying female executive kept in domestic thrall by her demanding father whose main topic of conversation revolves about his bowel movements highly watchable was the presence of veteran actor Amitabh Bachan as the dominating, poo-obsessed bully.

Let me swiftly move on. When I noticed that "Daddy Longlegs" (1955) was being aired, I wondered why this was one of the very few Hollywood musicals of the period which I did not have in my own collection. So I watched it again to conclude that although Fred Astaire is always highly watchable and although Leslie Caron makes one of his more charming dance partners and although the pair are nicely supported by Fred Clark and Thelma Ritter (always good value in any movie) and although there is a fine Johnny Mercer score including the Oscar-nominated standard 'Something's Gotta Give', the director Jean Negulesco was a poor choice with his tendencies towards schmaltziness. The film if overly long, poorly paced, with hideous décor to fill the new cinemascope format and far too much time is devoted to Caron's badly staged ballets. It's a true parson's egg!   

I'm running out of time and energy, so I'll only briefly mention the Japanese film "Creepy" (2016) directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa -- no relation to the great Akira K. A retired police detective, now a university lecturer on serial killers, moves to a new house with his young wife and their big fluffy white dog. They try to make friends with their new neighbours but mainly encounter hostile rejection. In particular the wife tries to befriend Mr Nishino next door with his invalid wife (whom she never gets to see) and his teenaged daughter Mio. Nishino is played by Teruyuki Kagawa, who also starred in the director's odd "Tokyo Sonata" (2008) and here he makes your skin crawl. Seems he is himself a serial murderer who never kills his victims himself but who somehow insinuates himself into families and gets them to kill each other. Mio briefly confides that he is not her father and a complete stranger, yet she is completely within his power as the young wife is beginning to be. This is not a particularly good or well-made film, but it certainly holds one's attention and yes, it is seriously creepy. 

Kanchivaram (2008)

 Although I bill myself as something of a film buff, there are certainly some great gaps in my cinema knowledge...like Indian movies for starters.  Yes, I have seen many of the 'classic' films like "Mahal" (1949) and "Mother India" (1957) and I probably know all of Satyajit Ray's output.  In addition I have viewed a number of the 'breakout' sagas of recent years that have received widespread distribution outside their own niche market, but I couldn't begin to discuss competently modern Indian cinema, its stars, and directors, and I have quite probably never seen a 'Bollywood' film on the big screen.  Therefore when Channel Four does one of its occasional Indian film seasons (normally in the wee small hours to schedule the usually lengthy flicks), I try to watch a selection of these -- to watch them all might be more than even I can manage.

In the past few weeks I have notched up three of their offerings.  The first was "3 Idiots" (2009), a rather jolly 'where are they now?' comedy of prankish school chums meeting after some years (and apparently one of the highest-grossing Indian films.)  The second was the lushly lensed "Raavanan" starring ex-Miss World beauty Aishwarya Rai as the wife of a ruthless police detective kidnapped by the roguish bandit that he has been pursuing.   However it was the above film, quite unlike many that I have seen, which left the most lingering impression.

For a start, unlike most Indian movies made in one of the major languages of the country (Hindi, Urdu, Bengali -- don't expect me to me any more knowledgeable) this one was scripted in Tamil, one of 22 recognized languages in the country and the first to be declared a classical language.  Since it is spoken in a relatively small area of the subcontinent, the film received only a limited release.  However, after it won the national awards for best film and best actor, Prakash Raj, it was finally scheduled for country-wide release.  The title refers to a local city, formerly the center of the silk-weaving trade, where Raj's character Venkadam is one of the best artisans for the local bigwig.  He and his colleagues normally receive only seven rupees for one of their intricately patterned saris which might in turn be sold for a thousand times that price. 

Set in the period from the late 20s to the end of World War II, the film focuses on the statement that most Indians of the period coveted silk vestments twice in their lives -- for the bride when they marry and for the shroud when they die.  However their labour was so exploited that they could never save sufficient to fulfill these dreams.  Even Venkadam's father who was so masterful that he received  commissions from a local king, was buried with only a small strand of silk connecting his big toes to ease his journey to the next world.  When our hero brings home his bride, the villagers gossip that she wears only a cotton sari.  Then when a daughter is born to them, he pledges (to his wife's dismay) that he will ensure that she is clad in silk on her wedding day.  He explains to her that he has been scrimping and saving small coins all his life to prepare for the next wedding, but this is soon lost when his feckless brother-in-law implores a loan with the threat that he might otherwide need to return his wife to the family.  So Venkadam begins stealing small skiens of silk (concealed in his mouth through the daily body searches) and spends his evenings in his barn -- off-limits to wife and daughter because of mythical snakes -- weaving the bridal sari to be.

All of this is told in flashbacks during the endless journey on a rickety bus from the prison where he has now been consigned. He has been granted compassionate leave for a few days to deal with a family tragedy -- what this is we only learn later and it provides the incredibly sad and tearful twist to the tale.  However the film is first and foremost the history of the weavers' collectives that were formed in India from the late 40s onwards and which still exist today.  The movie is not exactly an apologia for communism -- Venkadam and his co-workers are influenced by a visiting communist scholar who has taken refuge in their community during the period when communism was outlawed in India; our protagonist presents their demands to the intransigent 'master' and leads them into devestating strike action.  Only his daughter's impending wedding forces him back to work-- and back to stealing -- since the promised sari is not yet finished.  The movie is not a whitewashing of the growth of communism amongst these poor villagers, but it makes a strong case for the economic roots that ensured the ideology's appeal.

As I'm sure you know, nearly all Indian films are punctuated with extravagant song and dance numbers (which accounts for the length of these movies).  If I am honest I will admit to you that I occasionally fast-forward through many of these, since my ear is not attuned to the sound.  The refreshing thing about this particular film is that there are no such intervals relocating the action into colourful fantasy.  The only song used is a traditional-sounding lullaby sung by a group of local women at the ceremony marking his beloved daughter's birth and reprised at the film's tragic end.  The movie's director and writer, Priyadarshan, was previously best-known for broad Malayam comedies, ripped off from overseas movies.  This film, whose subtitle is "The Tyranny of Silk", represents a significant change of pace into moving, intelligent drama.

Andaz (1949)

Although I think I have some depth of knowledge when it comes to cinema, there are certain areas in which I admit I am relatively ignorant. The vast beast that is Indian cinema is a case in point. I have probably seen most of Satyajit Ray's films, a selection of other "classics", and a few of the multi-coloured all-singing, all-dancing, modern extravaganzas. However there are many on my "famous" list which I have yet to view. These titles tend to be culled from personal critics' selections from Sight and Sound's 'top 10' poll every ten years.



"Andaz" is considered to be one of the all-time classics and although I can see why it has achieved this status, I didn't really warm to the film. Its English titles include 'Misunderstandings' and 'A Matter of Style' and its underlying message appears to be that Indians who embrace a Western lifestyle do so at their peril. It is basically a love triangle starring Nardis (whom I know from "Mother India"), Dilip Kumar, and Raj Kapoor. She is the spoiled daughter of a wealthy industrialist whose life is saved when Kumar stops her runaway horse. They become good friends and it is obvious that he is falling in love with her, but she neglects to mention that she is engaged to Kapoor who is currently overseas. Her father does warn her that she is tempting fate by continuing this relationship and partying. After her father's death, Kumar helps her regain her enthusiasm for life and she rewards him by making him her partner in her father's business empire. It is only when Kapoor returns that Kumar becomes aware of the depth of her feelings for her 'god', her only one true and lasting love.



However, the situation becomes impossible for all of them, even after her marriage and the birth of a (singularly Western-looking) child. Kumar mopes about and Kapoor begins to suspect the worst concerning his wife's past behaviour and fidelity. The story continues with some irrational behaviour on the part of all three protagonists and ultimately tragedy. In the traditional Indian style, the action is interspersed with love ballads, many of which I understand have become classic favourites. Perhaps it is my unfamiliarity with this music and the singular melodramatics of the plot that stopped my full appreciation of this film. It was also not helped by the introduction of Kapoor's idiotic 'guru' who became an immovable houseguest and whose behaviour was probably intended as comic relief -- which just didn't appeal to my Western tastes. Yes I'm happy to have seen this film and to be able to cross it off my list; I only wish I could say that I thought more highly of it.