The re-release of “Sholay” shows us, again, that this isn’t just a great action movie, but a great movie, period.
The 3D is just frippery. When the thakur, in an inspector’s uniform, shoots at the pair of handcuffs binding Jai and Veeru, bits of metal fly towards us, and when the train they’re in smashes past a pile of logs on the track, some timber lunges our way, and, later, when the thakur chases Gabbar Singh on horseback and when they splash through a shallow stream, flecks of mud splatter on our glasses. These spruced-up effects are minor, worthless, and there’s a tinny, too-sharp sound to the songs (I guess they were remastered) – but these “improvements” do serve a purpose, and that’s to put Sholay back on the big screen, where it belongs. Everything about this film is so larger than life – its cast, its reputation, its earnings, its pop-culture impact, beginning with those hideously inappropriate “Gabbar ki asli pasand” milk bikis ads – that watching it on TV or on a laptop is a little like looking at a Facebook photo of the Himalayas.
Sholay needs the theatre. It needs the hi-fi speakers, spewing forth RD Burman’s memorable background themes, along with the tinny sound of the tossed coin that appears to land somewhere behind us. And it needs the bigness of the screen – not just for the action sequences or the surprising revelation that Sanjeev Kumar has fused earlobes, but for the shot that introduces Gabbar Singh feet first, as he walks back and forth over rocks, and for the shot that tells us how big the thakur’s haveli really is. The latter is possibly my favourite shot from the film (I’ll come to it later), though if you ask me tomorrow, I might pick something else – the crackpot jailer’s line-up inspection with its row of memorable faces, including the man with half a moustache; or one of the Jai-Veeru interactions, say the scene where they talk about settling down in Ramgarh, and we think it’s a random, rambling conversation till we realise there’s a point to it, a sting in the tail, the realisation that Basanti is waiting for Veeru by the pond; or one of the song segues, say the lead-in to Yeh dosti, where the jailer summoned by the thakur says that Jai and Veeru can be located if they are in a jail somewhere but otherwise there’s no way to find them, and we cut to the duo in the middle of nowhere; or even the classical bookending shots that open and close the film (a train chugs into Ramgarh; a train leaves Ramgarh).
When we talk about great films, we usually talk about the dramas, the Guru Dutt films, the Benegal movies, the Ray oeuvre. We don’t talk about “commercial” action movies. And on a superficial level, that’s what Sholay is – a “curry Western” as it has come to be called. The train fight. The post-Holi celebrations fight. The bridge fight. The first-day-at-the-haveli fight. In another film made in the same era, these would be the highlights; the rest just filler. But here, these are highlights; the rest are also highlights. The way each scene leads to the next one, the way the scene endings dovetail into the songs (Gabbar says, “Holi kab hai?”; we cut to Holi ke din dil khil jaate hain), the way high drama blends seamlessly with action and low comedy and possibly unintentional comedy (Veeru, hardly the brightest of bulbs, looks at his blood-spattered friend and asks, “Jai, tu theek hai na?”) and constant flashbacks and endlessly quotable dialogue and memorable characters (big and small) and an item number and even a widow-remarriage subplot that hints at the surrounding social milieu…
The film transcends the action genre. It could have ended on a happy note, with the brutal end of Gabbar Singh – but he’s not killed, merely led away to jail (from where he could escape again). And even this minor victory of the thakur (your entire family is gone, you have nothing to look forward to, and the man responsible for all this is being sent off to be a government guest?) is diminished by the sadness upon Jai’s passing. The nominal “happy ending” (Veeru and Basanti embracing on the train) isn’t what we hold on to as we walk home. What we take away is Jai’s funeral pyre, and Radha, far away, closing that window and presumably closing herself off from the world, after being denied a second shot at happiness. And when we think back, we see that this heaviness is prefigured in the lighter scenes, when, amidst the tomfoolery in Yeh dosti, we hear the line “Jaan pe bhi khelenge…”
In a regular action film, one that had nothing on the agenda but to give us an explosive good time, this song would have been the Jai-Veeru “introduction number.” After all, it tells us all we need to know about them – that they are thick friends, that they are rogues, that they settle things through a coin toss. Instead, we first see them in the thakur’s flashback, in an altogether heavier scene on a train, where we witness other qualities of theirs – their suitability for Gabbar-vanquishing, their code of honour (despite their inherent roguishness), and their dependence on the coin toss, which, now, assumes greater significance than in the Yeh dosti song, where they were just vying for a girl. What we sense here is the moral weight behind the coin toss, along with a fact that becomes clear only at the end, that Jai is the decision-maker. He makes up his mind about what should be done, and ensures, through the loaded coin toss, that Veeru gets on board. A mere action film rarely invites such reflection.
Anyway, back to my favourite shot/scene, the one that deserves the big screen, the one that tells us how big the thakur’s haveli really is. The Mehbooba number plays out in Gabbar Singh’s lair. Jai and Veeru blow up the freshly arrived stocks of ammunition. Jai is wounded, and the two of them make their way back to the thakur’s haveli on horseback. Radha, from the window in her room upstairs, the window she will shut after Jai’s death, sees the horses. She sees Jai clutching a blood-stained arm and begins to run. She runs to the end of the first floor, runs down the first flight of stairs, then the second, and runs all the way to the main entrance, which is where she sees the thakur, her father-in-law, and remembers who she is, what she is, that she is expected to behave a certain way, that she cannot give vent to emotions so easily. And as we take in the size of the haveli, through that tracking camera, we realise what it must be like for her to be in that huge space all alone, the only woman, apart from a manservant and a thakur who cannot think beyond his Gabbar Singh obsession. But when Radha stops at that entrance, he’s shaken, for an instance, out of his monomania. He’s stunned by her action, her impulsiveness, and his expression suggests that he’s suddenly realised that there are other people in the household too, living people who have unfulfilled needs while he’s going about avenging the dead. It’s a big moment, with big emotions – and it plays out better than ever on the big screen.
Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here.
Copyright ©2014 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
chhotesaab
January 17, 2014
I loved this write up ! Sholay is one of my favorite films, if not the favorite film. Your descriptions as always are amazingly insightful, especially that scene you have described in detail when Jai is injured and Radha’s impulsive reaction to it. It took me back to the movie, and wanting me to watch it again for the umpteenth time. As you mentioned the success of the film lies in the fact that even small miniscule characters are memorably written/acted – jailor, Soorma Bhopali, Mausi, AK Hangal and Sachin’s characters, Gabbar’s henchmen, even the villagers in the famous drunken water tank scene !
I have/had a DVD (haven’t watched it recently – hopefully still there) of Sholay where the ending is slightly different – in this one the Thakur kills Gabbar using his special shoes/mojdi with nails in them. I wonder if this was the original/alternate ending they had shot but then decided to go with a more conservative ending for the release in theaters.
How important Shoaly is to Indian cinema and Indians in general is best exemplified by a dialogue in another (utterly forgettable) movie – There is a scene in ‘Oh darling yeh hain India’ where SRK is pretending to be blind in front of the villain and when asked since when has he been blind, he replies – I have been blind since birth, I’ve never seen my parents, forget parents, I’ve not even seen “Sholay” ! Says it all.
LikeLike
Abhirup
January 17, 2014
Wonderful post. Thanks a lot for this.
LikeLike
MANK
January 17, 2014
Jai, tu theek hai na?
That was damn funny. that entire bachchan death scene as spoiled by dharmendra’s acting. As he keeps crying tu teekh ho jayega, bookended by Gabbar main aa raha hun speech. That’s the favorite of all mimicry artists who imitate dharmendra.I guess that’s what ramesh sippy meant when he said recently that one thing he would change about he movie , its AB’s death scene.
WRT climax, the original climax was about thakur killing gabbar, The censors forced them to change it. Climax was also somewhat unintentionally funny with sanjeev kumar flying around like superman and giving such extreme expressions with his face.
BR,One question about watching the film in 3D , was it a plus or a minus as far as this movie was concerned ?
LikeLike
venkatesh
January 17, 2014
Take a bow BR. Bravo.
LikeLike
Vivek Gupta
January 18, 2014
That coin toss, though staged beautifully in the context of the movie, has been a peeve of mine. Is Veeru so stupid that he never notices that the coin always lands up at the tail end? Been so much in love with that movie I wanted to explain this away. My theory is that there are two loaded coins , one loaded with head and other with tail, and Jai mixes thigs up by switching between one or the other to keep Veeru away from harboring any suspicions.
LikeLike
Satyam
January 18, 2014
Characteristically superb piece. I’d disagree a bit on the ending though. The one Ramesh Sippy intended (and now available on some of the DVD releases) was a much darker one (http://satyamshot.wordpress.com/2009/02/25/sholay-the-original-climax-gabbar-is-killed/). There’s an additional scene in the same director’s cut, a rather chilling moment when the Thakur is seen hammering the nails into his shoes (actually this isn’t too far from the thok de killi refrain of Raavan.. Beera could be a Gabbar of sorts..), preparing for that final showdown with Gabbar. In a way Ramesh Sippy has Gabbar’s ethos winning at the end. On the other hand the Thakur is not too far far from Gabbar in this sense. His own Moby Dick-like monomania overwhelms everything.
speaking of favorite shots I am very partial to this one:
http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT17mg2zjR6vCOE_sRmHVT4k4FNc29CcEJLPKnPi8hecCjjqWE_
LikeLike
Satyam
January 18, 2014
And if you’ll indulge me a bit more today an older comment seems somewhat relevant:
[I’ve long felt that Jai forms a kind of symmetric ‘pair’ with Gabbar. Interestingly he never has anything to say to Gabbar in sharp contrast to his buddy or even the Thakur. Between Gabbar and the rest of the characters there is an abyss of language. They just don’t share a means of communication. It could be argued that Jai exhibits these tendencies as well. He has very few lines in the film that are not intended sarcastically or ironically. Fascinatingly he also starts liking a woman who is in a sense mute.. What Jai is really about remains something mysterious. He could also be seen as equidistant between Gabbar and the Thakur, the two representing two different ‘signs’ for this universe. Only one can really survive. In any case the RGV remake idea wasn’t totally crazy (Bachchan initially wanted to play Gabbar when he heard the original script).
Others have commented on this and I myself used this reference in some of the Raavan discussions but the ethnic status of Gabbar is not the least of the film’s ambiguities. He could be a tribal, he could be a Maoist guerrilla of sorts (consider his ‘uniform’), or both. He could be seen as a lower caste character rebelling against Thakurs (the cutting of hands is a gesture with a long North Indian history). Beera can certainly be seen as his descendant in more ways than one including the ‘psychotic’ element in both characters. I just bring this up as an example. Sholay offers something remarkable at most points. In some ways Gabbar is the truest ‘hero-villain’ of the story. In a way the central figure or to be more theoretical its central signifier. All other kinds of meaning in the film’s world emanate from him. He is the ‘demon-god’ of this universe. Even a part of its folklore.
I’d add finally that in Ramesh Sippy’s original vision both Jai and Gabbar die!]
LikeLike
Satyam
January 18, 2014
finally here’s the Ramesh Sippy interview where he discusses the original climax:
LikeLike
Anu Warrier
January 18, 2014
You know what I wish? That instead of going in for this new-fangled nonsense of 3D, they had remastered the original print and given it a brand-new re-release – to bring to another generation of young cinegoers the vastness of a man’s ambition, and how everything can just click into place to make a completely entertaining movie (sans gratuitous profanity, sans skinshow, sans choreographed exercises masquerading as dances, and sans choreographed fight sequences that make them look like dances). Sholay had everything – good plot, good casting, good acting, excellent comedy (not the dumbed down version that seems to pass for comedy these days) – and deft direction that made us overlook, or blithely forgive holes in the fast-paced plot. It’s an overused word these days, but Sholay is truly a classic.
LikeLike
Ravi K
January 18, 2014
“The film transcends the action genre. It could have ended on a happy note, with the brutal end of Gabbar Singh – but he’s not killed, merely led away to jail (from where he could escape again).”
The original ending did feature Thakur killing Gabbar Singh (the director’s cut with this ending is available on DVD), but the CBFC made Sippy change it. Gabbar merely going to jail lacks the catharsis the film needed.
LikeLike
brangan
January 18, 2014
All: I know there is an alternate ending, but my view is that we look at a film in the form it is released. Otherwise, alternate cuts and extended scenes on DVD could be used to frame reviews. Those are important, yes — but the film, IMO, is whatever is shown in theatres, when released.
MANK: As I said, the 3D is just frippery.
Vivek Gupta: Yes 🙂 But then again, as I said, Veeru is hardly the brightest of bulbs 🙂
LikeLike
Shankar
January 18, 2014
Baddy, maybe I’m wrong but back when it was released, I remember seeing it where Gabbar is killed by the Thakur. Did the current ending get forced in after the initial release?
LikeLike
Shankar
January 18, 2014
Hah, just saw the Ramesh Sippy interview where he clarifies the climax. Some strange reason, I remember the Gabbar getting knifed scene so well!! Well…..
The original 70mm release was glorious with the size allowing the terrain to be shown in all it’s glory, even when most shots were in the afternoon sun. I do think an IMAX version will be awesome as well.
LikeLike
MI
January 18, 2014
Does it have English subtitles?
LikeLike
tejas
January 18, 2014
Superb writing.
LikeLike
Ravi K
January 18, 2014
The released ending is an alternate ending that was forced on the filmmakers, so I consider the “Gabbar dies” ending the only one that truly reflects the filmmakers’ intent, and therefore, the ending more worthy of discussion with regard to intent and effect. Luckily this ending is available for us to see as part of the film and not just as an outtake so we can judge it in context. This wasn’t a case of the filmmakers changing their minds or filming alternate endings to have multiple options. Nor is this a case of the new ending working better than or equally as well as the original ending, due to some happy accident. No, I think the theatrical ending is simply compromised, even if more people have seen that one.
LikeLike
MANK
January 18, 2014
@Ravi K
I understand what you are saying, But where do we draw the line then. How are we going asses all the movies especially the indian movies
(made particurly before 2000 circa) which pretty much have all been compromised by the censors. Sholay is an important movie and the makers put out the alternate version. What about all other movies where the makers have not done similarly. Otherwise we must have something like that of a blade runner option, where Ridley scott put out a definite director’s cut and so we know which is the real ending among all the endings that exist for the film. Ramesh sippy has not done anything like that, so the only ending we can asses is what is now on screen\tape.
LikeLike
venkatesh
January 18, 2014
@Satyam
Are you the Satyam of satyamshot ?
LikeLike
Bunny
January 18, 2014
@Rangan: Do you believe that Gabbar’s death would have made it into a “happier” ending? I think even with his death, it wouldn’t be a conventional happy ending. Jai dies, leaving his friend and Radha with lifelong grief; Thakur goes back to his glum life without the loved ones; Radha suffers another setback and retreats to her glum and mundane life.
The fact that Gabbar gets arrested is ironic, since, like you said, he could escape yet again, rendering the entire revenge mission useless. And the lines that the policeman (Sadashiv Puri) used to save him were downright clichéd, rather disgraceful to the brilliant dialogues in the movie. The entire portion seemed forced (for obvious reasons).
LikeLike
Satyam
January 18, 2014
I must agree with Ravi K. The ‘alternate’ ending here corresponds to the director’s wishes. In this sense it restores his original vision even if movie history was made with a different cut. I must also add that I am not as devoted to the theatrical cut given the number of releases in elsewhere in the world that have had very complicated histories in this sense. From theatrical re-releases ‘recut’ to restored or different versions on DVD. Sometimes the directors themselves ‘rethink’ their works and release newer versions. I don’t have a problem with this. Shakespeare himself did it. For instance there are two versions of Lear. Most texts conflate the two but it’s not clear whether Shakespeare ever intended this. If one considers the work to be less the sum total of what is ‘visible’ in a given cut and more the particular manifestation and/or articulation of a set of concerns (in the largest sense of the word ranging from aesthetic ones to philosophical ones and so forth) then the latter site can be plumbed more than once. It’s like a director or a writer producing a number of works using essentially the same configuration. Which doesn’t of course mean the work in question cannot or should not be judged on its own but that this isn’t, if you’ll excuse the easy pun, the ‘whole picture’!
Venkatesh.. yes I deserve that notoriety..
LikeLike
brangan
January 19, 2014
Shankar: You actually saw that end on the big screen? When it was first released? OMG! This was 1975, you know…
MI: No, it doesn’t.
Ravi K/Satyam: I agree that in this case the un-shown ending probably makes more sense. But I was talking about this from a theatre-viewing standpoint. (I wrote this after seeing the 3D version.) And it seemed appropriate to discuss the ending shown on screen rather than the one available on YouTube.
All kinds of things are “forced on the filmmakers” (whether during pre-production, while shooting, or during post-production), so I’d view as the final product whatever makes it to screen. Of course, we can always talk about the rest (what was shot and left out, etc.) and how they “complete” the film on blogs and other forums, but while re-reviewing etc. the screen version is the thing to go by, IMO.
Also, as MANK said, Ramesh Sippy hasn’t officially put out a cut with his original ending (which he could easily have).
I am not saying that, as a result, the original ending is not worth discussing. And I agree completely that “the theatrical ending is simply compromised.” But that’s what I saw even today. This was a piece written after a theatrical viewing and hence these thoughts.
Bunny: “Happier ending” in the sense that it would have at least given the thakur a sense of closure after all these years. But yes, even with this ending, we would have walked home with a heavy heart, thanks to Jai’s death, among other things.
LikeLike
Shankar
January 19, 2014
Baddy, that’s why it all seems a little hazy. I know that I probably didn’t watch the film when it released but did watch it multiple times within it’s original 5 year run. I haven’t watched the film fully again except for watching bits and pieces here and there. It’s quite possible I watched the alternate ending someplace and it got juxtaposed as the original ending in my mind. It’s hard to argue with facts when the film maker himself says so! 🙂
LikeLike
raj
January 20, 2014
On a tangential note, what (if any) do you think of Rajkumar Santoshi’s China Gate? It sank without a trace at the box office (aided aptly by the pudgy Mamta Kulkarni who surprising didn’t make it big in the south) and the chamma chamma number is likely what the movie is best remembered for but IMO it was a very cool homage (and a remake of sorts) of Sholay.
And speaking of Santoshi, isn’t it sad how he is now making less and less interesting films. Tsk, tsk.. and to think he’s the same guy who gave us the last great masala movie (in Khakee) not so long ago.
LikeLike
MANK
January 20, 2014
Thanks for reminding about China Gate. When i saw it , i actually liked it and felt that it was a film made with lot of conviction and honesty(as all Santhoshi films are , you may like them or hate them, but they are well made and not lazy hack jobs) as a homage to sholay as well as seven samurai(I dont exactly remember but i guess the film is dedicated to Akira Kurosawa). It had some of the best ensemble cast, Naseer,Om Puri,danny,Amrish puri etc and it was great to see them all together.Great locations and action scenes. But mukesh tiwari’s bad guy was horrible , trying to be a new age gabbar very badly.And the only sore note is that chamma chamma, a fun song but badly placed and thrown into the film at the last minute for some mass appeal. and funnily its by this song that the film is remembered today
LikeLike
brangan
August 15, 2020
This film turns 45 today.
LikeLike