It was a pleasure to
finally watch the movie behind the famous line, “mere paas maa hai!” which I’ve often used to checkmate my elder
sister during our squabbles (always in my mother’s presence, of course). I was
unaware that the film was designed to reflect India’s evolving, but turbulent,
politics in the 1970s (e.g., the rise of communist parties and labor rights,
and the entrenchment of gang violence and smuggling in Bombay). Similarly,
while I was aware of Amitach Bachchan’s ‘angry young man’ avatar, I was
surprised to see Parveen Babi smoking and drinking on stage, as I felt the
Indian society would still have been too traditional in the 1970s to accept a
bold female role on film.
The two themes I wish to
discuss in detail are the blurring of the lines between good and evil shown in
the movie (in a manner both similar to, and distinct from, Mother India), and
the dramatic use of background music in the film, that aided the action and
emotional scenes in the movie.
On the face of it, Deewar draws heavily on Mother India—a
strong matriarch character, abandoned by an embarrassed husband, who goes
through several hardships to lead a life of honor and be a role model to her
children, two young brothers, central to the movie, and serving as a
counterfoil to one another—one self-righteous and of mild disposition, while
another who falls into a life of crime and deceit, albeit forced into it by a
vicious cycle of poverty. Similar to Mother India, where Radha ultimately
shoots her son Birju, Deewar
witnesses the policeman Ravi finally shooting his brother Vijay, a drug mafia
in Bombay. However, Yash Chopra makes important divergences in the plot to make
the movie relevant to 1970s India, and to catapult Amitabh Bachchan into fame
that has lasted four decades. First, while Mother India showed Birju as a
naughty child, the script consistently builds Vijay as a protective elder
brother, who selflessly volunteers into child labor to provide enough for
Ravi’s school tuition. While both characters faced hardships in childhood,
Vijay’s maturity, (especially considering the cruel tattooing of his hand),
fostered more sympathy in me for Vijay. The constancy in Vijay’s character as
he grew (“I still don’t take money thrown at me!”), was another important
driver that allowed the audience to accept Bachchan as a lovable villain. Possibly
the only scene where I really thought low of Vijay was the iconic scene with
the ‘maa’ line, where Vijay enumerates his assets to his policeman brother,
Ravi. However, with well-timed scenes like the one where Vijay finally enters a
temple to plead with God to exchange his mother’s ill-health for his own,
solidify Vijay as the takeaway star of the movie. Therefore, while Nargis was
the definite show-stopper in Mother India, Vijay is the centerpiece of Deewar.
I noticed the background
music more prominently in Deewar,
than in other Bollywood films, and even Hollywood action films (other than
Mission Impossible with a famous background theme). The tense music in scenes
where Vijay confronted his brother, the emotive music with the mother, and the
bombastic themes during action sequences really enriched the movie. While I
often noted background music in Bollywood films, particularly in the 1990s,
I’ve somehow always associated with action films. Deewar probably contributed to the popularity of background music
in action movies.
Deewar’s
strong cast and characters helped construct the movie, but there were several
subplots that likely helped propel it to blockbuster status. The importance of
the ‘786 Bismillah’ badge probably pleased the Muslim audience, while the
repeated temple scenes appealed to Hindus. Parveen Babi would have appealed to
a progressing younger generation, while the dutiful Ravi and a righteous mother
would have resonated with an older audience. Deewar had the right ingredients to qualify as a masala movie!
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