Anil Saari was a film critic, poet, playwright, journalist. He passed away in 2005; cancer claimed him. He was only 60. Oxford University Press brought the first volume of his film criticism, Hindi Cinema: An Insider’s View in 2009, and now it has published his second volume comprising mainly interviews with the actors and directors of mainstream Hindi cinema, with a few exceptions. It has an introduction by well-known critic Saibal Chatterjee winner of the President’s Gold Medal for the Best Film Critic in 2003.
This second book is both an entertaining and informative look at the most illusive of forms of artistic expression — the cinema, which by its very nature is the art of the market place in more senses than one.
Anil Saari, in real life, was a very likeable but contentious character: At work he was a complete professional with a gift for putting the interviewee completely at ease. The interview with the matinee idol of the Seventies, Jeetendra, is an apt example. Jeetendra had tasted commercial success at the highest level and had turned film producer. He, having been groomed for stardom by the great L.V. Prasad of Prasad Productions and Film Lab, in Madras (now Chennai), came to be baffled by changing audience tastes and candidly confessed to this in an interview. He wanted to continue with film production, but added, “Yes, I will, but one doesn’t understand what runs these days. I just can’t understand the film business today. There was a time when a top star or a set of top stars in a film could ensure that, at least for the first week, the film would draw good crowds. But today, a top team can produce a super-hit picture and then three weeks later, the same team can feature in another movie, which nobody even in the first week comes to see. So you can’t even predict who is a top star! Stardom is something that doesn’t exist any more!”
Things have come a full circle since then. The influence of Hollywood is all pervading. The odd independent film like No One Killed Jessica, does do fairly good business. But that is possible because it features stars like Rani Mukherjee and Vidya Balan, who also do justice to their roles. Stars, despite their huge fees, do help sell a film at an appropriately high price, but their presence does not always guarantee financial success. Although the market has opened up considerably thanks to satellite television and the large Indian émigré population abroad, and of course various rights that a producer can sell to recover his investment and sometimes makes a huge profit, stars alone cannot make a hit, their presence in a film with a screenplay with the right ingredients to massage bruised egos, does do the trick fairly often. Saari understood very well the fragile nature of making and selling films and also the vulnerability of people in front and behind the camera.
This piece on Amitabh Bachchan reveals how he achieved megastardom. It was made possible through consistent hard work, sheer professionalism which included keeping his word always.
There were others before him who were equally talented. Sanjeev Kumar gave some memorable performances, died at 47 by neglecting his health. Rajesh Khanna drove producers away with his vanity. Amitabh Bachchan came away literally from death’s door after a Punit Issar’s blow struck him during the shooting of Manmohan Desai’s Coolie. Fighting his way out of seemingly impossible situations is second nature to him. Saari captures the essence of Bachchan’s personality in this vignette:
“An incident taken from the days when a TV film was being made gives a sharp insight into Amitabh’s highly rational, almost over-disciplined sense of propriety. Amitabh had given an appointment to a young TV film director, so that he could select the film’s music from the star’s own collection. While they were at it, two close friends and VIP business associates of Amitabh’s arrived unannounced. They were asked to wait downstairs. A message was sent up to Amitabh but he said he couldn’t meet the two VIPs because he had given time to the TV film director.”
Anil Saari’s second book Indian Cinema: The Faces Behind the Mask is a deeply perceptive one. He was the first film critic to write seriously about popular Hindi films because he understood that the pulse of a nation, both political and cultural, is often best captured through such a medium. In this sense he was unique.