Raj Kapoor — Director’s Study
Introduction:
Raj Kapoor’s contributions to cinema were influential in the growth of the Indian film industry and the country’s current appreciation of the cinematic medium. In a long and illustrious career spanning four decades, his ubiquitous talent for acting, directing, editing, producing, and writing in films earned him the title of “The Greatest Showman of Indian Cinema.”
Even though he was the son of Prithviraj Kapoor, a famous actor known for his versatility, he carved his own path in the film industry. He made his directorial debut at 24 with Aag (1948), a film he produced under the name of R.K. Films, making him one of the youngest directors of that era. His second film, Barsaat (1949), became his first commercial hit, allowing him to purchase R.K. Studios in Chembur, Mumbai, whose logo is based on a scene from Barsaat and serves as the film’s poster. His production company produced many critically and commercially successful films like Boot Polish (1954), Jagte Raho (1956), Awaara (1951), Shree 420 (1955), and many more.
Raj Kapoor was the first prominent filmmaker whose films were responsible for popularizing Indian cinema worldwide. It began with his 1951 superhit Awaara which became an overnight smash hit in South Asia and found enormous success in the Soviet Union, the Middle East, Africa, and Eastern Europe. He became an international sensation, especially in the Soviet Union, where he was as popular as Jawaharlal Nehru. Even though most of his films were huge successes and became the highest-grossing films of the time, he never shied away from taking risks. He spent six years and much of his money shooting Mera Naam Joker (1970), his most ambitious and deeply personal film. He even mortgaged his home and other assets to finance the production, demonstrating his dedication to the art form and his love for storytelling.
Raj Kapoor surrounded himself with the industry’s best talent and worked with people he liked and trusted. He co-starred with Nargis in sixteen films, including four that he directed, and their on-screen chemistry is still regarded as one of the best in Hindi cinema. In the writing department, he had a successful collaboration with Khwaja Ahmed Abbas, who wrote films like Awaara (1951), Shree 420 (1955), Mera Naam Joker (1970), and Bobby (1973). The talents of composer teams like Shankar-Jaikishan and Laxmikant-Pyarelal, and lyricists like Hasrat Jaipuri and Shailendra carried out Raj Kapoor’s musical vision.
In addition, he also worked with the most accomplished and talented singers in India, including Lata Mangeshkar, Manna Dey, Mohammed Rafi, etc. However, Kapoor’s notable creative collaboration was with singer Mukesh Chand, who was his voice and sang 110 songs for him. In an interview, while remembering Mukesh, he said, “Mukesh was my soul, my voice. I was just a mere body. It was he who sang through the hearts of people all over the world. Not me. Raj Kapoor was an image, just a carcass of flesh and bones. When he died, I felt like, ‘There goes away my breath, there goes away my soul.’”
As a filmmaker who has had a significant impact on Indian cinema, it is only fair to investigate his work through a contemporary lens, to observe how his films have aged over time and whether or not they still hold any relevance.
Types of Stories (Themes):
One thing to appreciate about Raj Kapoor’s films is that they were original and deeply rooted in Indian societies and traditions. In addition, he had no shortage of ideas and themes he wished to tackle. Raj Kapoor was known to be a romanticist, and his filmography reflected that, as most of his films were explorations of true love and what it entails, with films like Aag (1948), Barsaat (1949), and Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978). Throughout his career, Raj Kapoor’s films tried to convey that true love is a unique and passionate bond between two people that stems not from good looks or materialistic things but from inner beauty and a connection between two souls that is pure and sacred. Furthermore, he used films to show that the power of love can overcome even the most insurmountable obstacles, such as social, economic, and religious barriers.
In many of his films, notably as the protagonist, he loved playing characters who are destitute, loners, and vagabonds striving to find a better life. Films like Awaara (1951), Shree 420 (1955), and Mera Naam Joker (1970) show him as an outsider and an underprivileged underdog who has a simple, innocent, and likable personality with tragic undertones (which explains his opting for a Chaplinesque image) that allowed people to identify and empathize with his characters.
Raj Kapoor’s films were also searing social dramas where he highlighted and critiqued various ills and problems that concerned Indian society. Awaara (1951) revolved around how the social environment impinges on and shapes a person’s character and moral fiber. It raises various issues like classism, social inequality, and poverty that drive people to a life of crime. Shree 420 (1955) touched upon unemployment, greed, and the exploitation of poor people. In fact, the film deserves praise for its nuanced and accurate depiction of unemployment in the country and the challenges of post-colonial India, where many people were left jobless and forced to migrate to big cities.
Raj Kapoor’s late career films were primarily women-centric social dramas that focused on the oppression of women in a patriarchal society dominated by misogynistic individuals who have made up rules about how a woman should live and behave for their convenience. When a woman defies the norms, they become the target of exploitation, mockery, and social rejection.
Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978) was about how physical beauty establishes a measuring standard for the treatment of a woman. And if she fails to meet that standard, she is abhorred and discarded by society. In Prem Rog (1982), Kapoor targeted the subject of widow remarriage in a highly conservative Indian society. He critiques this outdated Hindu tradition and shows how a widower is considered an ill-omen, confined to a small room, served one meal a day, made to go barefoot, and forced to wear a simple white garb at all times.
The film also highlights the superstitious nature of the Indian populace and their willingness to put their faith in anything out of fear of failure or the belief that they will be deprived of something good or desirable if they do not adhere to a particular set of rituals. In Ram Teri Ganga Maili (1985), Kapoor compares the river Ganga to a woman. In the same way that Ganga is clean and pure from where it begins (from Gangotri, a town located on the Himalayan range) but becomes dirty and impure as she travels through places where humans inhabit, a pahadi woman full of purity and innocence becomes polluted as she comes across the impurities of human society and becomes the subject of exploitation by rapists, prostitutes, and corrupt politicians.
Analysis:
Let’s look at Raj Kapoor’s filmography chronologically to understand his evolution as a filmmaker.
Aag (1948):
In Aag (1948), Keval (Raj Kapoor) comes from an affluent family whose family tradition has been to study law and become a successful lawyer. But his passion lies in the arts, and he dreams of someday opening his own theater company. After failing his law exams, he chooses to strike out on his own and meets Rajan (Prem Nath), a painter and owner of a dilapidated theater. Keval impresses him with his passion, and they strike a creative partnership where Keval is to write and produce plays while Rajan is to finance them.
Meanwhile, a childhood romance with a girl named Nimmi haunts Keval’s fantasies, and he looks for her in every other woman. While searching for a lead character in his play, Keval encounters a homeless lady (Nargis), names her Nimmi, and casts her, renewing his optimism that his play will see the light of day and that he can pursue his lifelong dream of becoming a theatre artist.
The film begins with a fantastic opening scene (perhaps the best opening scene of Raj Kapoor’s career), with an incredible shot of Keval (Raj Kapoor) going to a bedroom (tracking shot), where we see a newlywed bride sitting on the bed. He charms her, tells her not to be shy, and to get the veil off her face. As she begins to look at him, the camera cuts to her closeup, and she screams because, in the next shot, we see the closeup of half of Keval’s face damaged by burns, with light emphasized on his burned face. It’s a commendable opening sequence from a director making his directorial debut who was only 23 at the time.
After he employs Nimmi, there is a fantastic scene illustration of how dialogue can elevate a simple scenario and make it more emotionally impactful. It begins with Nimmi rehearsing a song, and Rajan likes it, but Keval does not, and he storms out in anger. When she asks why he didn’t appreciate her performance, he answers, “Your song neither had tears nor laughter, nor the color of flowers, nor any warmth. The ups and downs of a sound are not called music. Songs are sung from the heart, not from the throat.”
She then counters him by telling him that Rajan liked it, to which he interrupts and replies, “Rajan is a painter who knows how to make pictures. But he does not know how to put life into those pictures and gets carried away by the beauty of the face. When you sing, I want to peep into your soul. I want to dive into those ocean-blue eyes and search for pearls. I want to see the hint of soul in your eyes while performing, drops of blood should be visible in your tears, and your hands should have the rays of the sun and its fire too.”
It’s poetry in its purest form. It provides depth into Keval’s character and his vision of inner beauty, which he wants the audience to witness through her performance. Raj Kapoor shows tremendous promise in his directorial debut and delivers a solid performance as a man trying to make his dreams a reality. Although the film contains several emotional scenes, Kapoor maintains a rhythm in his performance without making it too melodramatic or corny. The film also benefits from exquisite black and white cinematography, which has some memorable shots, be it Keval’s entry shot or the smoky photography with beautiful production design in his plays, which feels dreamy and beautiful.
Unfortunately, the film loses its charm and momentum, particularly in the third act, owing to the lackluster and unconvincing love triangle involving Rajan, Nimmi, and Keval. Rajan is in love with Nimmi, who loves Keval. When Keval confronts Nimmi, he realizes that her love is superficial based on looks and beauty. Hence, to prove that this kind of love doesn’t last long in a relationship, Keval does something that feels too extreme and overdramatic. Furthermore, the film suffers from a lack of characterization of Nimmi, which leads to an unfair and incomplete resolution of her character. Personally speaking, Aag is a rare film in which the soundtrack of Shankar-Jaikishan fails to impress, as not one song feels memorable and manages to make an impact, which harms the film considering the fact that Keval’s plays were all musical numbers.
Barsaat (1949):
Despite being the biggest hit at the time of its release, Barsaat is one of my least favorite Raj Kapoor films. The film centers on two friends with polar opposite personalities. Pran (Raj Kapoor) is a sensitive young man who feels that true love is the only thing that gives meaning to life and is worth living for. Gopal (Prem Nath) is a womanizer and a playboy who believes there is no such thing as true love. Gopal meets a mountain woman named Neela (Nimmi), and even though she loves him dearly and longs for his company, he likes to flirt around and go out with other women. On the other hand, Pran meets Reshma (Nargis), and they fall in love. But like in any other romantic film, their love is tested, and complications arise, which they must overcome to be together.
Raj Kapoor’s intentions behind making this film were pure, as he wanted to demonstrate the value of pure love in a person’s life. Unfortunately, the execution is poor, and as a result, the film becomes exhausting and an emotionally taxing experience. For example, there are at least 5–6 scenes in which Pran and Gopal discuss their respective viewpoints on what love is. These scenes have the same conclusion: Pran preaches about love, and Gopal dismisses the idea, and listening to them talk about the same thing gets jarring after a while.
The best thing about the film is the sweet, natural progression of the romance between Pran and Reshma. However, when the two are separated, the film becomes a drag, and screen time is exaggerated by at least 45 minutes, making it increasingly difficult to watch. Following their separation, Pran becomes depressed and mourns her absence, and there are repeated scenes of him sitting in front of the piano and playing sad songs. His sad state of mind stretches to the point that instead of feeling empathetic for him, we become frustrated with him and pity him.
At least four of the film’s songs overstay their welcome since they all express Pran and Reshma’s heartbreak and longing in one way or the other. Although the soundtrack by Shankar-Jaikishan is lovely, it is so overused that the story becomes repetitive and goes in circles. The film’s climax is also a huge letdown, as it comes off as completely ridiculous. I understand Raj Kapoor’s sincerity in depicting the power of true love as magical, but the climax feels corny and doesn’t hold up today.
Awaara (1951):
In Awaara (1951), Kapoor plays Raj, who lives destitute with his mother, Leela (Mrs. Chitnis), in the slums of Mumbai after being estranged from his bitter father, a district judge named Raghunath (Prithviraj Kapoor), who kicked her out of the house years ago. Raj enters a life of crime due to poverty and joins the gang of dacoit Jagga (K.N. Singh), who has a vendetta against Raghunath for wrongly indicting him years earlier, resulting in him kidnapping Leela when she was pregnant with Raj and casting doubt on Raghunath’s mind as to whose child she is carrying. When Raj meets Rita (Nargis), love blossoms, but their relationship is tested by their different socioeconomic backgrounds; Raj is poor, uneducated, and a petty criminal, while Rita is a well-educated, high-society girl.
Even today, Awaara remains one of the Hindi film industry’s most visually striking movies, putting current Hindi films to shame. The film looks stunning with the perfect use of shadow and light and darkly surreal sets, with each frame being beautiful and a visual feast for the eyes. The application of music in Awaara is vastly superior to that of Barsaat, as Raj Kapoor refrains from overusing songs to portray the same emotion. As a result, the musical numbers don’t feel like they are impeding the storytelling momentum. For instance, halfway through the film, Raj must choose between his love and criminal life.
His dilemma is illustrated using a dream-fantasy song, “Tere Bina Aag Ye Chandni,” which eventually provides him with the solution by the end of the song. The musical number shows Rita in heaven beckoning Raj, but he is locked in hell, attempting to escape and get the devil (his criminal life) off his back. The production design in the song is incredibly innovative, with Nargis standing in heaven above the clouds with the full moon in the background.
But Raj is stuck in hell, where everything is dark, with giant faces of moving skeletons surrounding him and zombie-like people dancing and chasing him while he tries to escape. It is a perfect example of musical storytelling, with visual creativity at its peak. Even though the film suffers from stretched melodrama and predictability, especially towards the end, the film is still a treat to watch, and there is a high level of craftsmanship on display here.
Shree 420 (1955):
Raj Kapoor was at the pinnacle of his artistic prowess in films such as Awaara and Shree 420. In terms of overall filmmaking, I would consider Shree 420 the best Raj Kapoor film because of its flawless execution in the technical and creative departments. The film begins with the introduction of an educated yet unemployed Raj (Kapoor), who is traveling from Allahabad to Mumbai to search for employment. After arriving in Mumbai, he realizes how hard it is to earn an honest living. The film benefits from the playfulness of the script and Raj’s character, who is a simpleton, loveable, and charming, which is endearing to watch. He meets and falls in love with Vidya (Nargis), a teacher who tutors kids from slums and is also financially struggling.
Raj strives to make a living through honest means but soon gets drawn into the world of riches and an unethical way of life. First, a sultry temptress called Maya (Nadira) uses him to earn money by cheating at poker and dumps him for good. Then, a dishonest wealthy businessman named Seth Sonachand Dharmanand (Nemo) seduces him with money and makes him do illicit activities like selling fake shares. When he discovers that Sonachand is trying to execute a Ponzi scheme to exploit poor people, Raj decides to fight and stop him.
The love story between Raj and Vidya is the film’s high point, thanks to the sparkling chemistry between the leads and the music by Shankar-Jaikishan. And what better way than to confess love while having tea at a tea stall in the rain? It’s as romantic as it can get. The film then immediately breaks into the “Pyaar Hua, Ikrar Hua” song with the famous scene of Raj and Vidya walking down the street in one umbrella in the rain. It’s just mesmerizing to watch and feels like pure cinema magic.
As Raj increasingly succumbs to the temptation of earning money using shortcuts, he becomes cocky, which drives Vidya away from him. There is a scene in which Raj comes to Vidya drunk and blabs about how good it is to have money and pompously displays the amount of money he has and how rich he has become. Vidya dismisses his unethical ways, after which Raj decides to leave her. As he leaves, Vidya is standing there, wearing a black Saree and looking sad. But at that moment, another Vidya emerges from her body, wearing a white saree, and sings about how she doesn’t want him to leave. It’s a brilliant visual representation of how a part of Vidya wants him to stay, but the other part disapproves of what he has become.
There is a scene in the latter part of the film where a rich Raj (who has also grown lonely and alienated) is getting ready when the poor Raj with ragged clothes shows up in the mirror, and they have a conversation. The rich Raj realizes how isolated and empty his life has become in comparison to the poor Raj, who had nothing but was joyful, full of energy, honest, and had a clear conscience. He begins to miss the old Raj and laments how his life has turned out. The scene is another example of Kapoor’s rich visual sense.
In terms of screenplay execution, I would give Shree 420 a higher rating than Awaara because Raj Kapoor does not stretch the melodrama as much as he did in Awaara. As a result, the film moves at a decent pace, and although predictable, it is immensely pleasant. Musically speaking, this film is a masterpiece and even better than Awaara. The only word that comes to mind while listening to the soundtrack of Shree 420 is “magical.”
Sangam (1964):
Personally speaking, Sangam ranks the lowest of all the films that Raj Kapoor directed. It is a four-hour-long melodrama that centers around the romantic entanglements of three characters: Sundar (Raj Kapoor), Radha (Vyjayantimala), and Gopal (Rajendra Kumar). Sundar comes from a poor background and is childhood friends with wealthy Gopal, the only child of a judge, and Radha, who is equally rich because her father was an army captain. Sundar has always loved Radha, but she loves Gopal and rejects him as the three grow up. Gopal is also secretly in love with Radha but keeps it a secret because of his friendship with Sundar.
The film takes too long for these characters to recognize their predicament, and the drama drags on with forced misunderstandings and coincidences. To prove himself worthy, Sundar enrolls in the Indian Air Force and is presumed dead while on a dangerous assignment. Following that, Radha and Gopal’s love blooms, and an abnormal amount of screentime gets wasted establishing that, and just as they are about to marry, Sundar appears, who was not dead, and Gopal calls off the wedding and sacrifices his love for a friend. A guy choosing friendship over a romantic relationship is a highly improbable scenario that anyone would rarely believe. Gopal abandoning Radha without contemplating her future or the consequences she will face is an outrageous and illogical plot point.
After being coerced into marrying Sundar, Radha learns to love him. Now, the love story between these two develops, and once again, an excessive quantity of screen time is squandered, particularly when they are honeymooning in Europe. I think more than the storytelling, Kapoor wanted to attract Indian audiences by showing them exotic places they had never seen before.
The music by Shankar-Jaikishan was excellent, but I would like to listen to it as an independent album because Sangam contains too many musical numbers, which increases the screen time and tests your patience. The famous track “Dost dost na raha” is shown during a situation in the film that is utterly out of sync with what the song symbolizes. Sundar realizes that Radha had an affair before their marriage, and even though we know that it was Gopal, the screenplay forcibly refuses to tell Sundar this information, and the climax stretches on for eternity. The fact that Sundar cannot forgive Radha because he presumes that someone might have touched her before he did feels regressive and archaic today. Sorry, but a four-hour love triangle melodrama is not my cup of tea.
Mera Naam Joker (1970):
Raj Kapoor’s passion project, which is also a semi-autobiographical film, is another four-hour-long film about a character named Raju, a Joker (Raj Kapoor) who has a myriad of life experiences, including heartbreaks, personal and professional setbacks, and still entertains people because, in his view, the show must go on. The Joker is an allegory for entertainers and performers whose job is to perform and make the audience happy regardless of the difficulties in their personal lives. The film is divided into three chapters: The first chapter depicts Raju’s childhood. He lives with a single mother and develops an infatuation with his teacher, who eventually gets married to her boyfriend, leaving him heartbroken, which makes him realize that he was born to make people laugh, despite his troubles.
The second chapter chronicles Raju’s stint in Gemini Circus, a collaboration of Indian and Soviet Union performers to strengthen ties between the two countries. Raju incorporates himself into circus life and learns the tricks of the trade. While working in the circus as a clown, he meets a Russian girl, and they fall in love. However, when their romance ends, Raju suffers another heartbreak and leaves the circus. The third chapter shows Raju wandering the streets and meeting a girl named Meena (Padmini). They form a creative partnership as street performers and eventually become a couple. However, they drift apart when he finds she uses love to manipulate others, leaving Raju heartbroken and alone again.
The first chapter is a touching coming-of-age story that does an excellent job of establishing Raju’s character. In the second chapter, Raj Kapoor shows the circus life in detail and succeeds in thoroughly immersing me in it. The chapter’s centerpiece was a lovely and innocently pure love story between him and a Russian performer. But the film completely loses me in the third chapter. Firstly, there is a lack of authenticity in the romantic chemistry between Meena and Raju. Then they do things that make no sense and have no context. The chapter also suffers from shoddy editing, with songs seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and towards the end, you’ll see three of them in less than fifteen minutes.
Despite having very mature and philosophical themes, the subject matter did not warrant a four-hour runtime. The writing is so predictable that even if you take a ten-minute break, keep the film running, and return, you’ll have no trouble filling in the blanks. These films suffer from long runtimes due to the writer’s inability to make a point swiftly, which has an equally strong emotional and dramatic impact. They use 2–3 scenes to make a point that only requires one, and they regularly overdo the emotions beyond what is acceptable in a melodrama, straining the audience.
A perfect example of this would be in the third chapter when Raju meets Meena, who has disguised herself as a man (with short hair, jeans, and a shirt) to survive as a single girl on the streets. Now, the audience knows she’s a girl from the moment they see her. But not Raju. And the film wastes at least 10 minutes letting Raju figure out that Meena is a girl. This style of writing results in a slogfest that becomes tedious to watch.
Bobby (1973):
Bobby was the first directorial effort by Raj Kapoor without him starring as the lead. It is a straightforward love story between two youngsters, Raj (Rishi Kapoor) and Bobby (Dimple Kapadia). Raj is the son of wealthy Hindu businessman Ram Nath (Pran), and Bobby is the daughter of a middle-class Christian fisherman Jack Braganza (Prem Nath). The lives of the two lovers are sent into chaos when their parents oppose their relationship, mainly due to economic differences. The film established a trend for a rich guy/poor guy love story, which Hindi films still imitate today.
Surprisingly, I ended up enjoying this film, owing to the issues of class inequality and caste/religious differences, which are still relevant, and play a vital role in influencing the love lives and even marriages of young Indians. It is an absolute disaster if the parents of either a girl or a boy do not agree with their children’s relationships. The characterization of Raj felt particularly impressive as a youngster who has always been ignored and inadequately raised by his parents, even though he craves their affection and attention. As a child, his mother didn’t even breastfeed him, and to avoid raising him, his parents sent him to boarding school. Rishi Kapoor’s eyes convey his deep desire for his parent’s love and approval.
The film also benefits from sparkling chemistry and lovely intimacy between Rishi Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia. As the film approaches its end, the audience becomes emotionally immersed in the characters and anxious about the fate that awaits them. Furthermore, the viewers are also curious about how the parents will get along, and the film convincingly shows the resolution of their disagreement. Despite the thin storyline, the film was brought alive by teenage love, the director’s flamboyance, the freshness of the lead pair, and an exceptional soundtrack, with each song hummable.
Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978):
With Satyam Shivam Sundaram, Raj Kapoor comes up with a unique idea that no one in the current Hindi film industry would dream of thinking. Rupa (Zeenat Aman) is a local villager with one side of her face burned due to an accident, due to which she is treated like a parasite and ignored by everyone in the town. Her father, a Pandit, is worried because no one is willing to marry her. One day, a civil engineer from the city named Rajeev (Shashi Kapoor) arrives in the village to oversee a dam construction project. He hears her voice, sees her physical characteristics, and falls in love despite never seeing her full face because she always covers the burned side with a veil. Rajeev decides to marry her, and all hell breaks loose when he discovers what she looks like.
The production design of the Indian small-town setting is very accurate, and it includes both the authenticity of rural India and certain improvisations that will help you feel as though you are in the village during the Ramayana or Mahabharata eras, just as we envisioned it while reading the books.
Even if the film has a strong theme, the makers fail to construct a compelling story around it. Rajeev loves the version of Rupa with a great voice and perfect body and refuses to accept her real version, who has a scarred face, as his wife under any circumstances. As a result, there are two Rupas from his point of view, and Raj Kapoor is trying to separate Rajeev’s reality and perception but does so unconvincingly.
The film could have done a better job of creating a subtle distinction between the two versions to convince the audience that Rajeev actually thinks there are two of them. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. However, the climax, in which the flood enters the village and wreaks havoc, is just masterfully executed and edited by Raj Kapoor without using any special effects, which is quite an accomplishment. The camera angles are astutely selected, and not a single shot will make you think it’s fake or shot in the studio.
The film was controversial and criticized upon its initial release owing to the overexposure of Zeenat Aman’s voluptuous body. To counter the criticism, Raj Kapoor said in an interview, “Eroticism is the basic art form of creation. Life itself is erotic; otherwise, it is meaningless. It is dead. Probably, one has to be learned and matured to understand what eroticism is.”
Prem Rog (1982):
In Prem Rog, Manorama (Padmini Kolhapure), the daughter of a wealthy, orthodox family, is to be married off to an even more affluent family, leaving Devdhar (Rishi), an orphan lad who has fallen in love with her, heartbroken. A tragedy strikes shortly after the marriage, turning her life into a living misery, and it is up to Devdhar to redeem his love from the outdated beliefs and traditions of the conservative society.
The film skillfully comments on societal evils like age-old practices of treating a Hindu widow, casteism, superstitions, and the mentality of conservative Indian households. Like Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978), the small village setting and world-building are both the results of detailed and well-researched production design. However, the film’s biggest flaw is the weak characterization of Manorama.
She had a lot of room for growth and change, from a meek, docile kid taught to mindlessly obey traditions who experiences a lot of suffering to the fierce, opinionated woman who fights against everyone for her freedom. But the makers squander that opportunity because she comes across as nothing but a damsel in distress who endures and endures until her hero comes to save her. Also, the love story between Devdhar and Manorama was ineffective because it appeared as though she decided to love him in the end as she didn’t have any other options.
Also Read: 10 Most Underrated Hindi Movies from the 80s
Ram Teri Ganga Maili (1985):
Narendra Sahay (Radhir Kapoor), a son of a wealthy politician from Kolkata, travels to Gangotri to study the source of Ganga, where he meets a mountain girl whose name is also Ganga (Mandakini), and they fall in love. On Puran Mashi, they tie the knot and have their first night as husband and wife. Narendra leaves but promises Ganga that he will return. After months pass, Ganga gives birth to his child, but there’s still no sign of him. Finally, she decides to travel to Kolkata to confront Narendra and ensure a better future for their son.
Although Raj Kapoor’s last directorial film is not exactly a home run, it has its moments. Once again, he comes up with a unique concept and compares the river Ganga with a woman. But the film takes a long-time to arrive at its main point of Ganga (the woman) getting polluted as she begins her journey to the heart of India. Also, the sequences of her being exploited and corrupted feel unconvincing, and the settings feel forced, as if she is obligated to suffer. Like Prem Rog, Ram Teri Ganga Maili again portrays a woman as a damsel in distress who needs to be rescued by the protagonist rather than evolving into a self-reliant and powerful woman.
Music:
It is safe to claim that music in Raj Kapoor’s films is responsible for half of his cinematic success, and his use of music was different compared to the musicals from other countries. In contrast to Hollywood musicals, where songs were employed to develop a plot or tell a story, Kapoor mostly used songs to portray a character’s emotion, which is still followed by most Indian films today. Raj Kapoor was well-known for his incredible musical taste, and it’s no surprise that many of the songs he commissioned are now evergreen hits.
If two characters fall in love, they express their feelings using the iconic “Pyaar Hua, Ikraar Hua” song from Shree 420 or “Dam Bhar Jo Udhar Muhn Phere” from Awaara. The song “Ab Raat Guzarne Wali Hai” from Awaara conveys a person’s longing for a loved one. If a character wishes to profess their love, then “Yeh Mera Prem Patra” from Sangam (1964) will do the job.
There are numerous songs about heartbreak in his films, including the melodious “Chod Gaye Balam Mujhe” from Barsaat (1949). The song “Main Zindagi mein hardum rota hi raha” from Barsaat (1949) perfectly expresses a character’s loneliness. The lead characters in Prem Rog (1982), through the song “Mohabbat hain kya cheez,” are trying to understand what love actually means. His films featured musical representations of every possible human emotion.
Raj Kapoor also used songs to introduce the protagonist, most notably “Awaara Hoon” from Awaara and “Mera Joota hain Japani” from Shree 420, which provided audiences with the gist of the character. Although most of the songs represented the emotions of the characters, some also told stories, such as the aforementioned “Tere Bina Aag ye Chandni” or the “Ek Radha Ek Meera” song from Prem Rog (1982), where the latter tells a story of two women who loved a man in different ways and allows the audience to decide whose love the man deserves.
Conclusion:
Raj Kapoor was always a firm believer in not taking the audience for granted or making a fool of them, which is something that many contemporary filmmakers need to learn from. He wanted the audiences to forget their daily troubles, escape their dreary lives, and lose themselves in the magic of movies. However, when viewed through a contemporary lens, many of his films have not aged well because of issues like overuse of songs, stretched-out melodrama, a primitive form of storytelling, and overlong screentime due to a lack of taut scripting.
Modern audiences (including myself) have been jaded to these melodramatic tropes due to their continuous and repeated exposure, and the genre has been waning in popularity in recent years. Whether you like his films or not, you can’t dispute that he made them with genuine passion and devoted his heart and soul to the cinematic art form.
The article was originally published on High On Films, authored by Nikhil Tembhurnikar