In Deewar, Amitabh Bachchan turns out one of
his most well known performances as the “angry young man.” Through his unique
combination of restrained indignance and confident body language, Bachchan
successfully portrays someone who expects great things from life, and refuses
to settle for the poor hand he’s been dealt. Through this film and others,
Bachchan created the archetype of the angry young man, and the precedence for
conveying that anger through glimpses of interiority, rather than exaggerated
emotion (Mazumbdar). Beyond Bachchan’s performance, however, Deewar has
many facets that help it capture the social unrest of post-colonial India. In
different ways, characters attempt to break away from the socioeconomic
constrictions that they were born into, but ultimately fail to do so. Ravi
attempts to escape his circumstance through education, but upon graduation, he
has no job prospects (Banerjea). With the help of his well-connected
girlfriend, he is able to get a job—but as an agent of the state that has left
his family in destitution. In addition to the symbolic “failure” of becoming a
police officer, this job is also what ultimately leads him to kill his own
brother. Vijay also begins his story trying to stop a pattern of injustice. He
refuses to pay the mafia in protest of their exploitation, but once he learns
of the lavish lifestyle he can lead by joining a life of crime, he does so. Both
brothers try and fail to disrupt the present social structure. But they are not
the first in the movie to do so.
In fact, their initial plunge into poverty is set
off by a failure to challenge the powers that be. Their father, Anand, begins
the story fighting for the rights of his fellow workers, but is forced to sign
away their fight when his family is threatened. The lighting and editing used
in that pivotal scene signals its importance, and foreshadows how we will see
hints of Anand’s tragic fate replicated in the story of his sons. As Anand
contemplates signing the contract, thunder begins to boom in the background.
The camera cuts back and forth between Anand’s face, his corrupt employer’s
face, and the face of his henchmen. Unlike the scenes before (and most of the
scenes after), the lighting in this scene is low-key and high contrast. It
oscillates between flashes of darkness and moderate light, in coordination with
the thunder. As Anand gets closer to signing the contract, the rapidity of the
cuts and flashes increase, and the dramatic nature of the music peaks. The
scene climaxes with the signing of the contract, and an on-screen flash of
lightening immediately after.
Even after Anand flees, the memory of his failure
lingers. When he first leaves, we are presented with the image of a train
barreling towards us, and its signature whistle. Throughout the film, we are
visually reminded that Anand is still riding trains, but the train also breaks
into the movie’s sound design. In the scene after Vijay throws a brick at his
mother, Sumitra’s employer, Sumitra comments on how different he and Ravi are.
Vijay agrees, and says, “the biggest difference is this”—referencing his tattoo
(“my father is a thief”). As the tattoo comes on screen, the sound of the train
blares, and we cut to a shot of a train passing through a station, and Anand
seated on a bench. In the next scene, Ravi and Sumitra enter a temple, and ring
multiple bells as they walk beneath. The bells continue to ring on in a
discordant chorus, and many years have past when the camera pans back to
Sumitra and the now grown-up Ravi. Although we do not explicitly hear the
train’s whistle in this scene, the high pitched ring of bells is evocative of
the train noise which occurred just moments earlier. By having a similar sound
during this scene of transition, the film links the memory of the father with
the formative years for the boys—indicating that his legacy continues to haunt
them throughout their growing years.
When Anand’s dead body is finally found in a train
years later, the train and its whistle become more than just a symbol of Anand.
Anand first boarded a train to escape his world, and continues to ride them
throughout the movie. He is constantly in movement, but with no apparent
destination in sight. The train suggests a futility to attempts at “mobility.”
Paralleling this with the struggles of Vijay, Ravi, and Sumitra, the train
alludes to a society that stifles upward mobility, and makes changing the
status quo impossible. In essence, it captures exactly why the angry young
man exists.
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