I have written before about film-reviewing (and to an extent book-reviewing) not being taken seriously in this country; about how the culture of 300/400-word reviews in mainstream publications (and the all-important star rating) creates a circle where potentially good writers fall into bad habits, editors blithely delegate review-writing to almost anyone, not thinking of it as a discipline that needs experience or a particular skill-set, and standards fall so low that it becomes easy for filmmakers, scriptwriters and authors (the “creative people”) to say foolish things like “Critics are eunuchs in a harem.”
Every now and again, though, comes a reminder that overall things are probably better than they were a few decades ago (if only because we have more publications now with space for extended culture writing). This usually happens when I go through the archives of old magazines from the 1950s, 60s and 70s and note that “reviewers” and “critics” of the time had such a flip, disdainful attitude to what they were doing that they couldn’t even bother to use the characters’ names when discussing a film’s plot; instead they would use the actor’s real name, or even his nickname, and generally write the piece in the style of drawing-room gossip about a distant family member.
Here is an entertaining review I read recently, from a 1975 issue of Star and Style. The subject of the piece is a just-released little thing called Sholay, and I herewith attach the full document for your scrutiny (click to enlarge, or right-click and select "View image"):
In fairness, this is not by a long way among the most poorly written reviews I have read in these old magazines. But the casualness of the piece (after a first paragraph that makes at least a perfunctory attempt at saying something – that the skin of the film is impressive but not the main body, etc) is striking. Plot details are carelessly given away with no spoiler alerts (and this is very much a first-Friday review, not an extended analysis meant to be read after watching the film). No character names are supplied, even in one instance where it could lead to reader confusion. (“Hema using her own name in every sentence…”) Intriguingly the actor playing Jai is not mentioned even by his own name – instead there are only references to “Dharam’s friend” and even “Dharam and his co-killer”! And no, this is not because Amitabh Bachchan wasn’t yet a star – Deewaar had been released a few months earlier, and Zanjeer a full two years before.
In the midst of all this, there is the predictably reverential nod to the “understated” performances of Jaya and Sanjeev. But THIS *beat of drums* is far and away the best part of the review, the one that will bring a silly grin to Posterity's face:
[More from old magazines here: Nirupa Roy's varicose veins, Dilip Kumar's tasty tongue]
Every now and again, though, comes a reminder that overall things are probably better than they were a few decades ago (if only because we have more publications now with space for extended culture writing). This usually happens when I go through the archives of old magazines from the 1950s, 60s and 70s and note that “reviewers” and “critics” of the time had such a flip, disdainful attitude to what they were doing that they couldn’t even bother to use the characters’ names when discussing a film’s plot; instead they would use the actor’s real name, or even his nickname, and generally write the piece in the style of drawing-room gossip about a distant family member.
Here is an entertaining review I read recently, from a 1975 issue of Star and Style. The subject of the piece is a just-released little thing called Sholay, and I herewith attach the full document for your scrutiny (click to enlarge, or right-click and select "View image"):
In fairness, this is not by a long way among the most poorly written reviews I have read in these old magazines. But the casualness of the piece (after a first paragraph that makes at least a perfunctory attempt at saying something – that the skin of the film is impressive but not the main body, etc) is striking. Plot details are carelessly given away with no spoiler alerts (and this is very much a first-Friday review, not an extended analysis meant to be read after watching the film). No character names are supplied, even in one instance where it could lead to reader confusion. (“Hema using her own name in every sentence…”) Intriguingly the actor playing Jai is not mentioned even by his own name – instead there are only references to “Dharam’s friend” and even “Dharam and his co-killer”! And no, this is not because Amitabh Bachchan wasn’t yet a star – Deewaar had been released a few months earlier, and Zanjeer a full two years before.
In the midst of all this, there is the predictably reverential nod to the “understated” performances of Jaya and Sanjeev. But THIS *beat of drums* is far and away the best part of the review, the one that will bring a silly grin to Posterity's face:
Amjad, looking a short fat lout, is a far cry from the much-feared dacoit. The man cannot even run or fight and only keeps ordering or grimacing.I wonder what the reviewer would have thought of Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag.
[More from old magazines here: Nirupa Roy's varicose veins, Dilip Kumar's tasty tongue]
"Rajkishore as the female homo"...oh, the political incorrectness!
ReplyDeleteoh, there are dollops of political incorrectness in the old magazines. Going through some Screen and FilmIndia issues of the 1950s, I was astonished by how often the word "rape" was used in such contexts: "It seems that the producer has once again been RAPED by his distributors." And this in the main editorials.
DeleteWonder what Salman Khan has been using as his reading material! :)
DeleteHow about this review, which manages to trash both "Vertigo" and "Touch of Evil" in the same column? Arthur Knight is the guy who used to compile the annual "Sex in the Cinema" articles for Playboy: http://www.unz.org/Pub/SaturdayRev-1958jun07-00025
ReplyDeleteMike: ha, yes, I saw that piece long ago. Think we've discussed this before - that in the 30s, 40s and 50s there were many snooty literary types writing film reviews with very little understanding or appreciation of cinema as an autonomous form that deserved indepth analysis; hence these showy displays of condescension by so many critics (in India, of course, it went on for many years more).
DeleteLol. And, it says, "Vasanti" and not "Basanti". I guess this was written by someone who did not have too much connection with Hindi belt or may be it is a typo...
ReplyDeleteAt least he spares that massacre scene!
ReplyDeleteJai, I think Amitabh's name was not used because Devyani Chaubal had at that time done katti with the Big B.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Salil - yes, someone mentioned that on FB too, and I do remember reading about the "katti" in some magazine or the other long ago.
Deletehhahahaha...LOL! I must say that I was simply hilarious. Jaya Bhaduri as the dumbed survivor of Sanjeev's family. OMG - it was an era of new experiments in Hindi Cinema and also redefined it to a great extent, but critics did not give a damn about it. I think in those days, no body took those critics seriously. So, the review was there just to fill-up the column.
ReplyDeleteSir, much as I admire your writings, I can't agree with your assessment that the standard of film reviews in India was worse in the 1960s and 1970s than it is now. Star and Style, essentially a film gossip magazine, is hardly representative of that time. I'm old enough to remember that while there was a lot of pedestrian stuff then as now, the best of the reviewers in the mainstream press were first rate. In the 1960s Times of India had Bikram Singh; from the mid-late 1970s Indian Express had Iqbal Masud - both of whom were outstanding. (Masud, in fact, was really something. It is such a pity that all those reviews from a pre-Internet age are presumably lost for ever. However, I'll say this: if there is any writer today whose work can rival Masud's - both in its cinematic knowledge and literary craftsmanship - it is you.)
ReplyDeleteThere were a few others too whose names now escape me. And apart from regular reviewers there were also a number of writers on cinema who were very good. I would say there was relatively more coverage of culture in the mainstream press, including serious cinema, in those days than there is now. After all, a large chunk of the best movies ever made in India date from the period 1969-70 to 1983-84 (roughly from Bhuvan Shome to Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron). They all received extensive media coverage.That many of them were still disasters at the box office is another matter.
Also, a reply to one of the reactions to your post: the omission of Amitabh Bachchan’s name is certainly deliberate, but it was not merely due to some petty personal tiff Devyani Chaubal had with him. That was the time of the Emergency when press censorship had been imposed. Initially it was only political news that was censored, but soon film gossip came under the censor’s ambit as well. It was widely rumoured – though of course never proven – that Bachchan had prevailed upon Indira Gandhi, a close family friend of his parents’, to clamp down on the gossip magazines. In response, the entire film press (in English at least) with the exception of Filmfare, completely boycotted Bachchan. Some of them kept up the boycott for years, long after the Emergency ended. Again, that it made no difference to Bachchan’s rise and rise is another story.
Dear God, I don't know where to begin. In addition to everything else, I was horrified by the typos..."Dharm", "Ajmad" and others. And Vasanti? Considering the whole point was that Basanti mentions her name constantly...words fail me.
ReplyDelete