Of horrors and thrills

In the mid 90s, I would often walk past a dreary, white and yellow building.  Owing to its location, the grimy structure had become a big part of my childhood.  Apollo Talkies, Rasta Peth, Pune was a landmark so well known that the adjoining bus stop, the chowk where it was situated, the cobbler and batata wada seller positioned in its vicinity, all were known by the title “Apollo”.  On the grimy front facade of the theater would dangle a large, singular, colorful poster of the picture running at theater at the time.  As if to mock the conspicuousness of the poster, a couple dozen handbills of the same film would adorn the grungy parapet wall that guarded Apollo’s perimeter.  One film that I particularly remember being screened at Apollo Talkies was Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960s horror film Psycho.  That a 60s motion picture was running at Apollo in the 90s was hardly a worthwhile thought back then because the poster of the film was enough to permeate the entirety of my adolescent brain.  A nude woman, censored just sufficiently by a steamed-up glass pane, with an outstretched hand that seemed to thrust out of the poster, surrounded by streaks of blood, and a monosyllabic “A” on the top left corner indicative of the censor certificate type, all screamed out tantalizingly to the deep-seated immorality narrative in my brain that was a product of orthodox upbringing.  Mind you, up until then, my only exposure to the horror/thriller genre was the Zee Horror Show.  As such, this was enticing stuff.

Fast forward a decade, the poster of another cinematic masterpiece adorned the grimy walls of Apollo.  At this point, I am not going to tell you the name of the picture, but only that it was starred in by not only a few GOATs of Hindi cinema but also a bunch of newcomers.  Multi-starrer, if you will.  I did not watch the movie at Apollo.  Actually, I don’t remember exactly where I saw it, but I have not forgotten the chills it gave me when I did.  The movie opens with a completely deserted remote-Indian-village railway station.  Out of nowhere, you suddenly spot three college age dudes, who are meeting for the first time.  One glance at their unsuspectingly happy faces immediately gives you that sinking feeling in your stomach, as if you know that something terrible is going to happen to them in the movie.  It turns out that all three have left home for the first time to attend college in the god forsaken village, which for some reason they willfully chose when applying.  As providence would have it, the boys discover that not only are all three in the same class, but are also roommates in the same dorm room.  The next scene is a college assembly, which in itself is such an unusual concept that it gives you the chills.  To make matters creepier, the only teacher present at the assembly is the college principal.  Not a single lecturer or professor is present.  The principal, speaking in an unusually low-pitched baritone, delivers a particularly sinister welcome address, which consists chiefly of a run-down of the college “rules”, viz. a no dating policy, a sundown curfew for students who might leave the campus, and a threat to get rusticated if the student disobeys even a single rule.  It is against this backdrop that the rest of the movie takes place.

Cut to a few scenes later, you have now come to realize that the college is basically a single building that looks like a haunted English manor surrounded by carefully manicured lawns.  The incongruity doesn’t end there.  There isn’t a single classroom in the manor.  Students are dismissed from classes sometime in the afternoon.  You can only assume that it is classes that they are dismissed from, because like I mentioned earlier, there isn’t a single lecturer or professor other than the principal a.k.a. the Baritone Bogeyman.  Essentially, a bell rings and students are dismissed from whatever takes place inside the manor.  When this happens, the students simply walk out.  No one knows where they go because the cafeteria and the dorm rooms are housed within the manor and there isn’t a single other building around.  In fact, the only structures other than the manor are an unusually large gazebo and a Durga temple, both of which are perpetually deserted.  Students wear uniforms.  You also realize that it is an all-boys institution, which basically makes the no dating policy totally homophobic.  You also realize that it is always autumn on campus.  Trees seem to constantly generate yellow leaves despite constantly shedding.  A menacing looking gate guards the mysterious campus.  

Enter, a guy who looks like a grown up Harry Potter, sweater draped on his shoulders, violin in hand.  As providence decrees (or common sense screams), the college needs at least one lecturer.  So our sweatered violinist walks into the principal's office and solicits for the job of "music teacher", thus setting a precedent for cold calling for a job.  Powered, no doubt, by some sort of voodoo magic, he convinces the Baritone Bogeyman of the dire need of music lessons at the institution.  Within due course, you learn that the sweatered violinist is actually a psychopath with a sinister plan to avenge the death of his lover.  He manages to set up a music class in the gazebo near the Durga temple and uses his black magic skills to instantaneously procure musical instruments, sheet music, and music stands for the students.  However you soon discover that music lessons are a mere facade.  The psychopath's plan is to brainwash the boys and use his powers to not only make them subvert the college rules but also instill in them vile and wicked, anti-social and amoral if you will, values.  He coerces the boys to date girls from the neighboring all girls college by encouraging them to stalk and publicly harass them, get employed at married womens' homes as music teachers and use that position of power to sexually harass the women, break existing relationships to "get at" the girls they want, and deliver hypocritical sermons about sanskaar.  To make matters creepier, there is also the ghost of the psychopath's late lover that keeps appearing, in a singular costume, throughout the film.

I still shudder when I remember the scenes of this film.  I'm sure you have seen the film too.  Here are some stills from the film.  These might jog your memory.

 

     

Awwal Number (1990) - A Review

The Hindi Film Industry has churned out plenty of memorable sports films.  A sports film is generally trope-laden, and truth be told, audiences watch sports films knowing this and expecting this.  The story of the underdog.  Trial.  Misery.  Pain.  Tenacity.  Hard work.  And victory at the end.  We all love this.  You know the Chak De Indias and the Lagaans.  Even the biopics, although sometimes more like extended skits of anecdotes and recreations of actual videos from the past making you wish that you were watching a solemn documentary instead, give you the buzz of euphoria you expect from a sports film.  And within this genre, you will sometimes get a Dangal that has a narrative that transcends this cliché by addressing the human condition, a Bhaag Milkha Bhaag that deals with the sensitivity surrounding the Partition, and a Paan Singh Tomar that is raw and honest with incredible acting.

And then you have Awwal Number.

Remember how India as a whole felt proud and honored when Lagaan was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars but failed to win?  I think that is just gross underestimation of talent and a false sense of mediocrity.  Do you really think we don't make Oscar worthy films?  Let me tell you that the only reason we have never won an Oscar is because back in 1990, Dev Anand never cared to submit his masterpiece Awwal Number to the Academy.  In fact, Awwal Number outclasses any film that has ever won the Oscar.  

Awwal Number is a story of three men, Vicky, Ronnie, and Sunny.  Vicky, played by Dev Anand, is the President of BCCI, chief selector, cricket coach, and a retired Director General of Police who is on the Home Minister's speed dial so that he can be pulled out of retirement whenever needed because of his brilliant terrorist catching abilities.  He is a skilled helicopter pilot and can accurately shoot villains with a rifle using only one hand while flying the helicopter with the other.  He knows that the only effective way to interrogate a male terrorist suspect is by injecting sach ugalwane ki dawaa into him and a female terrorist suspect is by flirting with her.  He also knows the names of all the cricketing shots, and shouts them out at random while coaching his step-brother Ronnie, thus turning Ronnie into the world's best batsman.  He is also emotionally very stable, evidenced by his lukewarm reaction when 10 year old Ronnie shoots a man dead.  To top it all, he is also a man of principle because he drinks exactly one scotch and soda before dinner and smokes exactly one cigarette after dinner, votes to drop his own step-brother from the cricket team despite having been partial to him when selecting him the first time, and also has the gall to override the Home Minster's orders when it comes to following his usool to carry out his duties as a policeman.

Ronnie, played by Aditya Pancholi, is Vicky's younger step-brother.  While Vicky was born to an Indian mother, Ronnie was born to Cindy Crawford.  Yes, you heard that right.  Cindy Crawford.  Legend has it that Dev Anand asked his assistant to go buy the first photograph of a European looking woman he saw on Ranade Rd Dadar West, and the assistant returned with an exquisitely framed photo of supermodel Cindy Crawford, who then Dev Anand cast, uncredited and unaware, as his deceased step-mother.  Having those Angrez genes, it is no wonder that Ronnie has cricket in his blood.  With top class 1:1 coaching from his brother, he becomes a superstar cricketer who is famous for hitting sixers, because that's all really matters in cricket.  He is also a bad person because he is arrogant, disrespects his fans if they aren't pretty women, sleeps with them if they are, and also drinks a lot of beer (as opposed to drinking exactly one scotch and soda).  He usually scores centuries when he is in form, and gets out on zero when he is out of form.  He is currently out of form because of his aiyaashi and lack of focus.  He is jealous of younger cricketers who can also hit sixers, and generally wants to kill them by planting dynamite under the pitch, right around the good length area.  His MO for carrying out this operation is wearing a hat and a fake mustache and yet making no effort to hide his identity so he can use his name to get a free seat on a helicopter to fly over the stadium and press a button on a remote to activate the dynamite.  And as I said earlier, he is also a juvenile murderer on the loose.

Sunny, played by Aamir Khan, is an up and coming cricketer, which basically means he is a sixer hitting batsman.  He makes it clear right at the beginning that although his name is Sunny, he isn't the great Sunny Gavaskar.  However, he and his aging father, played by Bharat Bhushan, once receive an autographed bat from Sunny Gavaskar (not shown in the film), which our young Sunny, played by Aftab Shivdasani, then brings back to his chawl, starts playing cricket with, and grows up into a sixer hitting Aamir Khan.  Sunny is a good person, because he drinks neither beer nor scotch, he has never killed anyone in his life, and his behavior toward female fans is appropriate, i.e. he falls in love with them, sings songs with them in swimsuits on the beach, eats bhaang waale bhajiya with them on chowpatty, and eventually promises to marry them by meeting their aging mother.  He is also a big fan of Ronnie, but doesn't shy away from getting into a bar brawl with him when the senior cricketer speaks cheaply about women.  He also carries a tape recorder in his pocket, given to him by his girlfriend Aarti, played by Ekta Sohini, with "I love you, I love you, I love you" recorded in her voice in varying pitches.  Sunny uses this recorder like the Sanjeevani herb whenever he gets injured on the field, so that he can jump back up on his feet and resume hitting sixers.

Awwal Number is not just a movie.  It is a grand journey.  It is an adventure that traverses from cricket selection comprising of 5 people choosing between Ronnie and Sunny, to flash backs of cricket coaching accomplished either using a cricket bat if you are rich and by running on the streets on Mumbai if you are poor, to bad Tamil accented Punjabi actors playing LTTE members (the "Ayyo, umm tho thum ko jaantha hi nehi hey ji" kind), to Punjabi Tamil groundsmen named Kundi because apparently it is a South Indian word, to buxom women who pose as air hostesses in order to smuggle gold bars in their bras but end up becoming bar dancers without ever being arrested, to an Australian cricket team that consists of mustached white-face brown actors and just a single fast bowler that bowls every single over of the match, to policemen who are able to converse with villains in helicopters using some sort of mysterious telepathy.  Staying true to the sport film genre, India finally wins the match against Australia.  Sunny scores a century in his first ODI and achieves the rare feat of breaking Ronnie's test record in an ODI.  He is also named the Man of Match and is awarded a Mercedes Benz car, which then he gives Aarti a ride in.  Oh, and also, Vicky kills Ronnie, and the Tamil villains lose.