‘I wouldn’t change a single shot even if I could, the film is just perfect even with a supposedly flawed script!’
Celebrating Sholay‘s 50th anniversary on August 15 with a special series, where contemporary film folk analyse the cult classic.
IMAGE: Dharmendra and Hema Malini in Sholay.
As Nikkhil Advani says, every film-maker has his Sholay story.
His own began before he even became a film-maker.
To mark Sholay‘s 50th anniversary, the director takes a closer look at Ramesh Sippy’s direction of the classic, and discusses what really stood out for him.
“As Thakur’s sons, daughter-in-law and daughter are shot, one by one, they are caught in a succession of freeze shots before they fall to the ground in slow motion. I’ve always wondered about those ‘freeze’ shots. They could only have been alluded to in the screenplay, so did Ramesh Sippy and Dwarka Divecha (cinematographer) sit down with Salim and Javed to conceive the sequence? Or was it spliced together on the editing table?” Nikkhil Advani wonders aloud to Rediff Senior Contributor Roshmila Bhattacharya.
‘Javed Akhtar said Sholay was their most flawed script’
IMAGE: Dharmendra and Amitabh Bachchan in Sholay.
My wife and I had our first fight over Sholay.
I couldn’t believe Suparna hadn’t seen the film.
I had seen it 59 times even before I became a director.
For me, Ramesh Sippy’s curry western is a textbook lesson in film-making, right from the roll of credits to R D Burman’s music and the train steaming into the station.
A stranger in uniform gets off, is escorted to a horse by another, and as they ride away, you see Ramgarh’s countryside in an epic sweep.
There’s a sense of anticipation, of something dramatic about to happen and it does as Sanjeev Kumar’s Thakur Baldev Singh goes into flashback to explain to the jailor why he wants to recruit two small-time crooks, Jaidev and Veeru, for a ‘job’.
Through snatches of conversation, the two characters are introduced. Veeru comes across as carefree and jovial while Jai is laconic and brooding, before you are treated to an incredible four minute action sequence.
The dacoits who attack the train the trio is travelling in are neutralised by Jai and Veeru, but Thakur is shot and they have to decide whether to let him bleed to death or take him to hospital and be captured again.
At this juncture, another character, integral to the narrative, makes its appearance, the coin Jai flips every time the duo is in two minds, but it is only at the end that we learn why his ‘heads’ call ensures their decisions are always morally correct decisions.
In 20 minutes, the past, present and future is seamlessly established.
‘The audience was so completely entranced, they asked no questions’
IMAGE: Jaya Bachchan and Amitabh Bachchan in Sholay.
Javed (Akhtar) saab, once admitted that Sholay was Salim Khan and his most flawed script.
He pointed out that while the two are hired by Thakur to capture dreaded dacoit Gabbar Singh, for two-and-a-half hours, Veeru only pursues tangewali Basanti while Jai silently romances the widowed Radha.
They do send Gabbar’s men Kaalia and Sambha packing, but spend more time dreaming of living a settled life in Ramgarh with their lady loves than planning the ‘mission’.
It is only after Veeru and Basanti are captured by the dacoit, and Jai is fatally shot when rescuing them, that Veeru finally gets into action with an enraged roar, ‘Gabbar, mein aa raha hoon.’
However, with all the drama, action, comedy, song and dance, the audience was so completely entranced, they asked no questions.
A theatre owner apparently even complained to Ramesh Sippy that business was suffering because no one was stepping out for samosas during the interval.
That’s the magic of commercial Hindi cinema. It may sometimes defy logic, but when entertainment scores, no one really cares.
‘I’ve always wondered about those ‘freeze’ shots’
IMAGE: The massacre scene in Sholay.
Sholay was nominated for nine Filmfare Awards, but the only one who won the Filmfare award was M S Shinde for Best Editing.
While not many would remember his contribution to this cult classic, it is wonderfully showcased in the bloody massacre on Holi.
The sequence starts innocuously, rooted in everyday domesticity, as the family prepares for Thakur’s return till Gabbar Singh announces his arrival with a volley of gunshots.
As Thakur’s sons, daughter-in-law and daughter are shot, one by one, they are caught in a succession of freeze shots before they fall to the ground in slow motion.
I’ve always wondered about those ‘freeze’ shots.
They could only have been alluded to in the screenplay, so did Ramesh Sippy and Dwarka Divecha (cinematographer) sit down with Salim and Javed to conceive the sequence?
Or was it spliced together on the editing table?
The horror of the moment builds up as Thakur’s young grandson runs out of the house and looks at the swing on which his mother was sitting moments ago, but now empty and creaking ominously.
As Gabbar, whom he first sees in silhouette on top of the hill, approaches, silently and ominously, their eyes lock.
The dacoit cocks his gun meaningfully, the little boy continues to look at him wordlessly even as Gabbar takes aim and fires.
Cut!
‘There’s plenty of violence, but it is only alluded to and that enhances the effect’
IMAGE: Sanjeev Kumar and Amjad Khan in Sholay.
The sound of the gunshot is drowned in the gush of steam, as the train comes to a halt and Thakur steps out.
He looks surprised that no one has come to receive him, but has no premonition of the tragedy that has happened till he arrives home and sees five bodies lined up on the ground, wrapped in white sheets.
He makes no move towards them till a sudden gust of wind whips off the sheets covering them, unveiling the faces of his slain sons, daughter-in-law and daughter.
His grandson is still covered and Thakur sinks to his hunches beside him, slowly pulling off the sheet and clutching it tightly.
This time, the camera doesn’t move to the child’s face, letting him rest, while his grandfather, galvanised by the anger of his loss, mounts his horse and gallops away to confront the man who turned the festival of colours into a blood fest.
There is plenty of violence in film, but it is only alluded to, which enhances the effect even more.
Perhaps it was the need of the hour since the film released in 1975 during the Emergency. But even then, to show violent death in a succession of carefully chosen shots without diluting the impact is commendable.
‘Ramesh Sippy had to remind him he couldn’t do that because…’
IMAGE: Dharmendra, Jagdeep and Amitabh Bachchan in Sholay.
Sholay also stands tall because of its performances.
Soorma Bhopali had just three scenes, yet 50 years later, we are still talking about Jagdeep’s performance.
Jai’s death scene is unforgettable, slumping in Veeru’s arms, his voice laced with regret as he apologises for not being able to tell his children stories and urging him to keep the story of his friendship alive.
His eyes light up as he watches Radha run towards him, stopping short because her father-in-law is there, then turns around and embraces Veeru tightly as life drains out of him.
Thakur watches the two friends impassively from a distance, as his daughter-in-law finally breaks down, sobbing in his arms.
I’ve heard or read somewhere that after that shot was taken, Sanjeev Kumar asked for another take, pointing out that Thakur should not just be standing there watching, but perhaps hold Jai too.
Ramesh Sippy had to remind him he couldn’t do that because he had no arms.
Such was the power of the performances.
‘The actors playing Kaalia, Sambha and Ramu Kaka are known today by their character names’
IMAGE: Sanjeev Kumar and Amjad Khan in Sholay.
Talking of arms, lines such as ‘Yeh haat, haat nahin, phansi ka phanda hai‘ and ‘Yeh haath humko de de Thakur’ are iconic dialogues today.
In fact, such was the popularity of lines like ‘When I dead, police coming, police coming, budhiya going jail, in jail budhiya chakki peesing, and peeesing, and peeesing‘ and ‘Yahan se pachas pachas kos door gaon mein, jab bachcha raat ko rota hai, to ma kehti hai, bete so jaa, so jaa nahi to Gabbar Singh aa jayega‘ that vinyl records of not just R D Buman songs, but also the dialogue were released and they sold like hot cakes.
During Sholay‘s 30-year celebration at Mumbai’s Minerva theatre, which I attended with my director friends like Rohan Sippy, Kabir Khan, Shaad Ali and Vijay Krishna Acharya, no one could hear the dialogue being spoken on screen because the audience, including us, were screaming them out loud.
Taken in isolation, there is nothing special about ‘Kitney aadmi the?‘ or ‘Tera kya hoga, Kalia’. They are lines you would use in everyday conversation. But seen in the context of the film, they are iconic.
What’s more, Sholay has immortalised not just Jai, Veeru, Thakur, Basanti, Radha and Gabbar, but even Dhanno, a horse.
And the actors playing Kaalia, Sambha and Ramu Kaka are known today by their character names rather than their real names.
I watched Sholay as an audience first, and today, when I’m a film-maker myself, I feel the same awe and reverence.
I wouldn’t change a single shot even if I could, the film is just perfect even with a supposedly flawed script!
