Anger After Vijay - New Masculinities in 80s Hindi Cinema

1. Anger After Vijay - New Masculinities in 80s Hindi Cinema In the year 1986, as several expected blockbusters were biting the dust at the box office (Samundar, Jaal, Bhagwan Dada), an unlikely fan favourite emerged in the form of N Chandra’s Ankush. The film presented a familiar tale of four disaffected young men undergoing a moral transformation through association with a kind-hearted young woman, yet everything from its aesthetic to the way it presented its underlying message jarred with that of a conventional Hindi potboiler. The anti-hero was nothing new to film audiences at this point, as only a decade prior audiences had cheered the exploits of Amitabh Bachchan’s lone wolf Vijay (Deewar, Yash Chopra, 1975). By the mid-80’s Bachchan’s command over the box office was gradually in decline, and in that vacuum a new configuration of the hero was required. Hence the anti-hero presented in Ankush differed significantly from Bachchan’s icon of proletarian angst. By the mid-80’s Bachchan’s command over the box office was gradually in decline, and in that vacuum a new configuration of the hero was required. Hence the anti-hero presented in Ankush differed significantly from Bachchan’s icon of proletarian angst. Although in this article I focus mostly on films from the eighties, to trace the lineage of the new anti-hero, we need to take a step back to the pre-Vijay era, to a film that was a direct inspiration for Ankush. N Chandra had broken into the industry as a clapper for Gulzar’s Parichay (1972). He has later credited Gulzar for shaping his philosophy of cinema and aesthetics. It is little wonder then, that for his own directorial debut, he harkened back to Gulzar’s directorial debut Mere Apne (1971). The Vinod Khanna-Shatrughan Sinha-Meena Kumari starrer, was slated to be a remake of Tapan Sinha’s successful Bengali venture Apanjan (1968). Apanjan was one of the first no-holds-barred takes on the disenchantment of the youth of the nation and directly addressed the turbulent political situation in West Bengal. Gulzar modified the story to give it a more universal flair, but did not cut out the

2. violent urbanism that it depicted. In many ways, Mere Apne was an incredibly urgent film. In many ways, Mere Apne was an incredibly urgent film. Gulzar’s penchant for poignant poetic moments framed within populist melodrama will seem like an odd fit for a story about violent street gangs. But the character of Meena Kumari (the veteran was severely ill at the time of production yet persevered through it), who played the role of the elderly grandmother, Nani Maa playing a transformative role in the lives of two street gangs, allows for Gulzar’s trademark humanism to shine through. Mere Apne made no bones about fact that old values of solidarity and care were coming frayed, and a tattered community was easy prey for political vultures. This is perfectly captured in the bitingly sharp Haal chaal thik thak hai. Gulzar’s script walks a tightrope between upholding certain traditional values while at the same time not completely demonising urban life, and is bolstered by a wonderful young cast of actors (one can’t help but smile at the sight of a young Danny Denzongpa, perennially accompanied by his ventriloquist’s dummy). The film has a dark climax (it starred Meena Kumari, it would be wrong to expect differently), with the death of Nani Maa and the arrest of the two gangs. For a short while the grandmother is able to reform an ideal filial society with the young men, but political opportunism soon snuffs that out. The film served as a warning about the lack of proper welfare infrastructure and the havoc it causes to social bonds. Mere Apne made no bones about fact that old values of solidarity and care were coming frayed, and a tattered community was easy prey for political vultures.