Un-kvlt goes to the Movies - Veerana screening by Bollywood Crypt

Warning, long-ass post ahead. If you want to skip my rambling childhood horror movie reminiscences and go straight to my impressions of the event, scroll to below the event poster image.

Although I consider myself a fan of vintage Indian horror cinema, particularly from the Hindi film industry, I have actually seen few of these films at the cinema. This was inevitable since I was merely a schoolkid in the 1980's and early 90's when the Ramsay family studio - led by the director duo of Tulsi and Shyam Ramsay - had their crowning moment as the Czars of the Indian horror scene and were spawning imitators like Mohan Bhakri, Vinod Talwar etc.; going to the cinema to see a scare flick was out of the question. 

Also, this was the age of VHS rentals. Middle class Indian homes were discovering that, for a fraction of the cost of a cinema outing, you had the option of watching films in the comfort of home, albeit on a much smaller screen. You also had access to a far wider range of Hollywood films than were screened in the halls. At the time, I was lucky enough to have parents that were quite liberal about what their kids could watch and didn't believe in minute supervision. So long as it wasn't outrageously raunchy (even there I actually got away with Roger Corman's gleefully sleazy Humanoids from the Deep), anything from Bollywood masala to martial arts to bullet-fests to splatter fare was fair game. Alongside Hollywood horror staples like The Omen, The Exorcist, The Evil Dead, and Nightmare on Elm Street it was on VHS that I first saw several Ramsay horror / suspense flicks, including Saboot, Purana Mandir and Veerana.

I believe the first Indian horror film I saw in a theater was Ram Gopal Varma's Raat (1992), and it made a big impression at the time. But Raat's was more aligned with Western horror film tropes and represented a shift from the traditional Indian horror flick pioneered by the Ramsays. So when Deepak Ramsay in 2006 directed Aatma, I felt compelled to visit the cinema at least to get the experience of a Ramsay movie on the big screen. Coming off the experience of directing the majority of the 300+ episodes of the anthology format Zee Horror Show, Deepak served up a nicely done latter day Ramsay horror feature, alongside Shyam Ramsay's Ghutan (2007). But there remained a yearning to experience one of the classic Ramsay features in a cinema hall with an audience.

Unfortunately, while India has had a highly prolific film output spanning multiple states and languages, it rarely bothers to preserve and celebrate its legacy. And genres like horror are like the 'differently-abled' stepchild the industry would rather not acknowledge. Horror stars and makers in the West enjoy the adulation of fans decades after the original release of their films, but the concept of genre film related merchandise, fan conventions and retrospective events barely exists here.

So when Bollywood Crypt founding owner and (confession) my good friend Sandesh Shenoy announced a screening of the Ramsay's monster classic Veerana (1988), it was for me a not-to-be-missed opportunity. This event came about as a spinoff from several Ramsay films being restored in high-definition by renowned cult horror / exploitation video label Mondo Macabro. These are intended for release as a lavish blu-ray boxset that will provide horror fans across the world a full-blooded entry into the wacky sub-genre of 'Bollywood Horror'. It seemed only appropriate that the premiere screening of one of these restored versions should happen in India.

Setting up for the show.

Not content with just showing the film to an audience, Sandesh made it an event evening, inviting Deepak Ramsay as a special guest to represent the Ramsay family, and Bollywood horror / suspense genre historian and trivia expert Dhruv Somani to give some context about the film and its lasting legacy (My own brief impressions about Veerana can be obtained in this Un-kvlt Vlog post).

The obvious advantage of watching a film in a convention / festival milieu is of course that the audience is here for the love of the film. This was immediately reflected in the experience. Within the plushly appointed cozy 80-seater screening room of Suchitra Cinema & Cultural Academy, the atmosphere was electric. Veerana's bombastic opening was met with hearty whoops. All through the film, people responded to it, applauding the horror segments, laughing at the slapstick bits, enthusiastically endorsing lead girl Jasmin's charms, cheering the explosive finale where good manages to win over seductive evil. One can act all snooty, but there's something to watching a crowdpleaser in this kind of setting, you find yourself enjoying elements which in a more isolated setting appear gauche or cloying. In short, the showing was a blast.

Visually, the new master for Veerana looks miles ahead of any previous video release. There's still a fair amount of film damage, mind - some discoloration, some vinegar syndrome - that would either be beyond repair or take too much effort and money to correct. But you can see a lot more texture on objects & faces. In-house cinematographer Gangu Ramsay's Bava/Argento inspired use of garish primary colors is beautifully represented. I hope this degree of rejuvenation will hold true for all the other releases on the upcoming blu-ray set.

(L-R) Dhruv Somani, Deepak Ramsay, Sandesh Shenoy

The delicious cherry atop the cake was the post-screening interactive session, when Dhruv Somani came up on stage to discuss the work and legacy of the Ramsays with special focus on Veerana. For those relatively new to the Ramsay horror phenomenon, there was much to chew on here, including the mystery of the voluptuous Jasmin, who despite making huge waves as Veerana's lethal succubus dropped out of sight and was never heard of after. When the session was thrown open to the audience, both hardcore Bolly-horror nerds and relative newbies eagerly bombarded Dhruv with questions. For several of these queries, additional clarification and personal perspective came from Deepak Ramsay; the best was an amusing anecdote of when Aniruddha Agarwal - Purana Mandir's towering monster Saamri - was accidentally locked inside an actual coffin during the film's making. By the time he could be rescued, he had been reduced to tears while still caked in his fearsome makeup. The soft-spoken Deepak seemed genuinely pleased with the audience response to Veerana and hinted at some major announcements from the production house that would build on their legacy.

Equally exciting, Bollywood Crypt is working on the possibility of having a touring theatrical retrospective of all the restored Ramsay films. I don't know if this would be everyone's cup of tea, but so far as I am concerned they can...

Dopehri - A Dramatic Reading [Pankaj Kapur]

So last evening I headed to the Tata Theater at Nariman Point for an event billed as "a dramatic reading" headlined by Pankaj Kapur. Most of us 80's kids first knew of Mr. Kapur through the Doordarshan TV series Karamchand, in which he played the eponymous carrot-munching (and on occasion cigarette-smoking) detective, tailed by goofy secretary Kitty (Sushmita Mukherjee). Directed by Punkuj Parasher (oh, how the mighty have fallen) the series thrashed everything around it for pace and slickness, and was an instant hit. So of course one looked around for other things the actor had done. By happy coincidence this led to an exploration of non-mainstream cinema, for Mr. Kapur, like his National School of Drama predecessors Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri, was a rising star of this scene. I have a faded memory trying to sit through Sudhir Mishra's 1987 political drama Yeh Woh Manzil To Nahin, simply because the cast had both Karamchand and Kitty. The 80's were Pankaj Kapur's golden era, with a string of memorable appearances in Mandi, Jalwa, Khamosh, Chameli ki Shaadi, Raakh, the 12 Angry Men ripoff Ek Ruka Hua Faisla, culminating in his justly celebrated portrayal of the frustrated researcher Dipankar De in Ek Doctor ki Maut. The decline of the parallel film scene post that era meant that Pankaj Kapur had fewer opportunities to display his histrionics at the cinema. Being better known then on for television work in Zabaan Sambhal Ke and Office Office, he nevertheless registered his presence in such parts as the terrorist Liaqat from Roja, the Don Corelone-sque Duncan character in Maqbool...even in that ghastly misfire called Matru ki Bijli ka Mandola he was one of the saving graces. With his hypnotic gaze and gravelly voice, a wonderful capacity for brooding silence, explosive drama or pie-eyed comedy, Mr. Kapur has a staggering repertoire; and there may have been bad roles (Mohandas BALLB anyone?), but I do not recall any bad performances.

Dopehri, the theater listing informs, is a novella written by Mr. Kapur himself. The plot is a simple one, the sort that would feature in Readers' Digest or fill an episode of Katha Sagar. Elderly widow Amma Bi lives alone in her haveli, save for the servant Jumman. But even Jumman is not around all the time, and her loneliness grows ever more frightening. After some escapades, including a visit to an old age home, Amma Bi is persuaded by her well-wisher Dr. Saxena to take in a paying guest. How the guest's arrival changes Amma Bi's life, in the process giving her an identity and purpose in life, forms the crux of the story. It's a standard human interest story, but two things make the narrative come alive. The first is the language: Mr. Kapur's prose doesn't just read, it flows. On several occasions, you could hear the audience go "wah, wah" (respectfully) when they heard a particularly artful turn of phrase. Hindi has a uniquely apt flavor especially when used for satiric humor and Kapur fluidly molds the language to his bidding. The second is the performance: As a narrator and actor he is tremendous, able to convey much by glance, by inflection, by the rhythm of speech. And he has a love for his written world and characters that is contagious. Simply by modulating his voice and speech mannerisms, he "plays" all the characters: we see and hear them clearly, their amusing quirks and foibles brought to life in our heads. At numerous times, he has the theater rollicking with laughter, without ever cheapening the material or being untrue to his creations. By the end, we have been moved by these characters.

The production is also simple but effective: The sets are suggestive rather than elaborate, a tree with a broken kite, an armchair with a table holding a "paan" box, a writing desk. With the help of lighting changes to suggest time and mood, they are sufficient to convey the setting, and the actor expresses an ease that gives a wonderfully homely feeling, like a favorite uncle narrating a cherished family story. In all, a heart-warming experience in a time where we can always do with one.

Teen Prahar Concert [12 March 2016 St Andrew's Auditorium]

Last evening I attended an Indian music concert called Teen Prahar, held in Mumbai at St Andrew's Auditorium, Bandra. It is an annual event conducted by the Banyan Tree group, and this is the first time I attended. The program promised a staggering 5 hours of music (from 5-10pm), and delivered hugely on that.

The first part was a presentation of classical pieces by talented children. I'd say most of them were around 10 years give or take a couple, reminding me of the time when my folks enrolled me in Harmonium classes at school which I bunked so flagrantly they had to take me out (they were very indulgent to all my whims, sometimes I think I would have been a better person if they'd whacked me a few times). Anyhoo, Flautist boy did renditions of Marwa (one of my fav ragas) & Hamsadhwani, Harmonium boy did Bihag and Tabla girl gave a performance of Teen Taal. The boys were accompanied by professional tabalchi Anubrata Chatterjee (they seemed a little intimidated by his florid playing, but did a good job, especially in the fast runs for which they had reserved their stamina). Tabla girl was accompanied by another little girl on the harmonium and did a fine job (I'm not versed in the technicalities of the piece to make any real comment on that).

Next up was an percussion ensemble - Taal India. Led by Anubrata Chatterjee, this is a supergroup that included percussion instruments from all corners of the country - tabla, dhol, naal, khadtaal, dholak, mirav, edddakka, chenda etc. There were some 8 performers on stage (joined in the last by another 3, who played Dhak, a traditional Bengali drum). While everyone in turn showed their virtuosity, the khadtaal player with his royal mustache, pot-belly, mischievous eyes and dramatic way of moving his arms garnered the most cheers and applause - A case of showmanship over music, but that's to be expected in a popular concert, and definitely not the fault of the performer. The finale in which everyone performed together was almost deafening...in a good way. The group got a standing ovation from the crowd.

Ideally the organizers should have announced a proper break before the second half of the program, but Shujaat Khan was brought on shortly after, so one had to scramble to get a bit of coffee and a sandwich at the short-staffed cafeteria (and of course finish them outside the hall). Khan saab jokingly complained that after the thunderous percussion display, people would not be interested in hearing a man plonking on a Sitar, but the soothing strains of Sham Kalyan were just what was needed after that chunk of excitement. I cannot say anything about the purity or technical finesse but one thing was evident to me - the extent to which he can stretch and modify a meend, the man could really extract not just notes, but emotions from the sitar. A satisfyingly long exploratory alaap was followed by a composition of his father Vilayat Khan. He was accompanied by 2 percussionists, which was in most part redundant, but they had their individual solo sections during the gat, and I noticed that they played their solos in different styles. Later, Khan saab revealed that they are from different schools (one from Allarakha, and one from Kishan Maharaj) and to paraphrase his words, you can get the "khushboo" of their school from their playing. After that wonderful finish to his performance of Sham Kalyan, he launched into a medley of songs cheered by the audience (both his own and some standards like Vaishnav jan to). He also naughtily played the opening bars of Tu hi re, then said that this was just a trailer for the next performance (by Hariharan).

The last leg of the concert began with a rendition of a thumri (about a gopi calling Krishna to the river, don't recall exact words). There are a few things I have come to accept about a Hariharan show now: 1) His low-end is kinda gone, and he doesn't have the level of fluidity what a Mallikarjun Mansur or a Maharajapuram Santanam had even in their later years 2) His song repertoire now mostly consists of the blander stuff, and I'll probably never get to hear him sing Dard ke rishte (Hazir) or Khud ko behtar hai saraabon mein bhatakta dekhun (Ghazal ka Mausam). 3) Urdu blues - I know I'm being close-minded but this fusion-confusion stuff sucks. Those caveats in place, I had a good time. I was hoping for one song of my choice to be performed and this time I was rewarded with Shahar dar shahar from Hazir (based on Nat Bhairav). Expectedly, he finished with a rendition of Tu hi re, sufficiently freshened up to make it a nice experience. Among his accompanists, the flute, harmonium and tabla sections were frequently exciting: the flautist was marvelous, moving seamlessly from Indian classical to a jazz-inflected style. The keyboardist did a noticeably good job with the Nat Bhairav style in Shahar dar shahar, the guitarist played middling to bad blues/jazz solos.

In general the crowd really grooved to the music. Of course, a few sore points typical of audiences I've sat with.

Behind me I had to have the one elderly ass who had a remark for every frakking thing that happened, loud-voiced compliments for each turn of musicmanship he perceived, and even responded to the audience chatter done by the performers. An example: Even Hariharan knows his Urdu Blues is not universally acclaimed, so he modestly says to the audience "If you like it, please clap for it [he meant as a beat, not applause], otherwise forget it"
Old Bloke behind me: "NO NO NO, EVEN IF WE DON'T LIKE IT WE WILL CLAP"

I previously mentioned the khadtaal player who charmed the audience with his style. As soon as he finished his part some in the crowd started yelling "Once more!" Hello, he is part of an ensemble and there are several others who have not had their chance to show their prowess. You could see the embarrassment on the faces of the other performers.

As soon as Hariharan finished the first song on his setlist, a dude gets up and starts shouting for X song to be performed, at which other people take a cue. Everyone has their favorites they would like to hear (I know I would) but you shouldn't be a boor about it, not with a senior artiste who has just barely started with his program. I sometimes feel organizers should include an audience etiquette sheet with the ticket.

But overall, I had a great time and would definitely be looking to attend more such concerts.

A Date with a Serial Killer

...or how I had one of the most memorable evenings in recent time.

Thanks to a post shared by Facebook pal Aseem C (who I should make the effort to meet in real life soon), I got to know of a screening, arranged by Drishyam Films, of director Sriram Raghavan's early effort, a docu-drama on Raman Raghav, the notorious serial killer of 60's Bombay. The film itself for the longest time was almost a myth. It was made by Raghavan sometime in 1991; I recall reading about it around a similar time, while in college. Then I had no clue who Sriram Raghavan was, but I still remember that particular article had a B&W still of actor Raghubir Yadav in the title role (which made me think the film was in B&W, which would be another interesting way of filming it). But Raman Raghav was never ever released anywhere or screened on any television network, so you can imagine my thrill at the prospect of being actually able to watch it.

I registered on the Drishyam Films website last Friday but didn't receive any response communique from them, not even to the message I sent on their "Contact Us" tab about whether or not my registration was confirmed. It was therefore with some trepidation that I made my way towards the venue (the PVR multiplex at Citi Mall, Andheri West - formerly Fame Adlabs), since it meant I had to rush directly from work and jump through multiple modes of transport (including the occasional bits of jogging on and off the pavement, when the Navratri climax evening traffic meant any vehicular transport was useless). Breathlessly I reached the venue just a little after 8pm when the screening was scheduled to begin. The real bit of uh-oh moment occurred when at the counter my name was not present in the participants list and I was asked if I had received any confirmatory message. On giving my whole story (with woebegone face and specific emphasis on the enormous distance I had traveled across the city specifically to be able to watch this film), I and some others were asked to wait with the promise that if some half dozen or more reserved names didn't turn up within the next 10 min when the screening was due to start, the tickets would be handed on a first come basis. While I sympathize with anyone that didn't make it on account of being stuck in Andher Nagri's traffic, I was quite happy to receive a ticket at the end of that interval and bounded happy-puppy-like up the stairs to the screening floor. I was making my way among the crowd to the venue screen when I saw in front of me, Sriram Raghavan himself, chatting with some people I presumed to be part of the organizers. With the mixture of schoolboy glee and tongue-tiedness that invariably hits me upon meeting a celebrity I admire, I announced myself as a fan who had seen all his other films including The Eight Column Affair (a brilliant short made during his FTII stint), Ek Hasina Thi, Johnny Gaddaar and Badlapur (for reasons well-understood I left out a certain overblown where-did-the-fun-go secret agent misfire). Taking advantage of  his soft-spoken thanks I held out my DVD covers of JG and Badlapur for autographs, which he kindly obliged (Woohoo!).

Eat your hearts out, hehehe!

The charmed nature of the evening continued. After being called on stage (the emcee was Atul Sabharwal who had scripted My Wife's Murder), Raghavan briefly explained the history of the film, cautioning repeatedly to temper our expectations with the fact that it was shot nearly 25 years ago on the U-matic videotape format. Even the mandatory pre-movie playing of the national anthem was made more interesting with an all-instrumental interpretation featuring the who's who of Indian classical music. Then, the film rolled.

If Sriram had any fear of the audience being disappointed in this early no-budget effort (3.5 lakhs all inclusive, he later revealed), they proved entirely groundless. Raman Raghav is a testament that a talented director will shine regardless of the budget and format. Even in his maiden feature, he shows the trademarks of his better known films - the long meticulous tracking shots, the careful scene transitions, the jolts of brutal action to punctuate the intensity of the scene than revel in the gratuitous overkill, the ability to introduce sly humor in the midst of suspense, surgically precise editing, astounding attention to detail and almost symphonic arrangement of "movements" in the sound design. The other strong point of the film is of course Raghubir Yadav's portrayal of the killer. The film being based on true events and recorded testimonies, Raman Raghav is not presented as some ultra-genius Hannibal playing cat-and-mouse with the cops, but a morose and simple-minded but highly disturbed individual who killed without any consideration to human life and got away for as long as he did on sheer luck.

Quick snap on a crappy phone-cam, L-R Sriram Raghavan, Raghubir Yadav and Atul Sabharwal.

Anyway, I won't spoil any of the film for you people, and I really hope there is some opportunity for this to come out on home video or on youtube so it can be seen by a wider audience. From Raghavan's own words at the post-film QA, it has only been shown at some festivals (including the first Bombay Film festival). While he does not own the rights, he can connect interested folks to the rights-holders (If that happens, I know there are at least a dozen people on my list of friends alone, who would be thrilled to get this on home video). The other pleasant surprise of the evening was the announcement of Raghubir Yadav to participate in the QA session. In his characteristic impeccable Hindi, a relaxed Mr. Yadav talked about his experience of making the film, shooting in outdoor locations which would not be possible anymore, his preparation, including avoiding baths so that he always had an unclean feeling. Sriram talked about how this was originally conceived as a series of video-films on various high-profile cases the police had solved, but I have not heard of any other films in this line so perhaps it did not materialize as planned. Sriram's own approach to the script changed once he started filming, focusing more on the character of the deranged killer, although he did have to retain a certain amount of police investigation material to meet the producer's requirement.

So a fantastic movie evening for this self-proclaimed film buff. I just had time for a quick bite (a pretty decent chicken burger at a Dunkin' Donuts), then off homewards so I could write you lucky folks this here blog.