Long before chiffons and the Alps dominated his vision, Yash Chopra was interested in what’s simmering beneath the ground. Produced by Gulshan Rai, “Deewaar” was the second film (after “Joshila”) that Chopra directed outside his own or brother B.R. Chopra’s banner. It is the film where Chopra regained his political tone after “Dharmputra”, Salim Javed came closest to perfection and Amitabh Bachchan consolidated his angry young man image.
Working on the template of “Gunga Jumna” with a strong influence of “Mother India”, Salim Javed wrote a simmering account of the times, which could simultaneously be read as family drama, action thriller or mythical text with an unmistakable underpinning of subversion. A tale of good versus evil, it was perhaps the first time that the so-called evil got the depth it deserved. It came at a time when Nehruvian romance was over, the youth was getting discontented with the State about the lack of jobs and a growing divide between rich and poor, and the government was trying to silence the voice of discontent with the Emergency.
Here the voice that is stifled is that of Anand Verma (Satyen Kappu), an honest trade union leader, who is forced to surrender to the management because his family is captured by its goons. From his silence emerges the anti-establishment voice of his son Vijay (Master Alankar/Bachchan). Brandished as the son of a thief, he migrates to the big city, where he becomes a shoeshine boy; his mother (Nirupa Roy) becomes a daily wager so they can send Ravi (Master Raju/Shashi Kapoor) to school.
Vijay shows his disapproval of the norm early when he prefers to sit on the steps of the temple even as his mother goes to pray. She offers him prasad , he takes it as a sweet. He doesn’t believe in God but doesn’t mind sporting badge number 786 for it proves to be his lucky charm. This quirky duality makes Vijay, a different animal altogether. He shows his edginess again when he, in a strand inspired by the life of Haji Mastan, refuses to pay hafta at the docks where he works. When his mother asks, he counters, “You want me to be like my father.” If the brooding Vijay finds glory outside the system, Ravi works his way within it and becomes a police officer. It is not that Ravi doesn’t face obstacles, but he doesn’t give up faith in goodness.
Everybody talks about the angry young man’s heroics but the film makes a solid statement on the state of the polity when Ravi shoots at a teenager only to find he was stealing a loaf of bread. He goes to his house to offer condolences with some food. The boy’s mother lashes out at his largesse and the state of affairs where the big crooks go scot-free while a young boy is shot for stealing a few crumbs. In comes the teacher father (A.K. Hangal). He silences his wife and says it is about the intent and not the amount. The thought retains its zing.
From using “Sare Jahan Se Acchha” at crucial moments to highlighting the politics of signature, Chopra uses sharp metaphors to take his point across. It is a signature that seals Anand babu’s fate and it is a signature that Ravi asks from his brother. And the mark that society puts on Vijay’s arm that makes him an outcaste for life too is a signature. It was perhaps the first time that a Hindi film deliberated on migration and traversed the aspirational footpath to skyscraper dreams. Vijay buys the same building on which his mother worked in his childhood. In fact, he is not going down the gutter for personal glory; he is only desperately trying to regain his lost self-respect. And when his mother doesn’t approve of his means, he turns desperate. After being shot by Ravi, he returns to the steps of the temple for redemption and finds it in his mother’s lap. Is it back to innocence or the darkness of the womb? The film leaves you with a lump in the throat every time you watch it.
If Vijay emerges as the antithesis of the hero, Chopra creates a new face of the heroine in Anita (Parveen Babi), a fact which mostly gets overshadowed in our reading of the film.
Anita is a girl who hangs out in bars, enjoys her drinks and is in control of her sexuality. She sleeps with a man without marrying him and even shows the confidence of raising their child without the ritual of marriage. Even though, like every woman who smoked on screen, Anita meets a violent death, it was a bold move.
The film started an era where dialogues became more important than songs and Shetty’s choreography of fight sequences a bigger draw than dance sequences. LPs were released with Salim Javed written in bold font. From Bachchan’s monologue with God to “ mere paas maa hai” , the dialogues became part of folklore. When a young Vijay doesn’t take the money thrown at him, Davar (Iftekhar leads a versatile support cast) says, “ Yeh lambi race ka ghodahai… ”The lines proved prophetic, not just for Vijay but also Bachchan.
But that doesn’t mean R.D. Burman and Sahir didn’t provide a durable brick in “Deewaar”. Pancham’s pulsating background score highlights the drama. Kishore Kumar’s “Keh Doon Tumhe” continues to fascinate DJs and listeners alike but I can’t forget Ursula Vaz’s “I’m Falling in Love with a Stranger”. A rare English composition in a Hindi film, it defined the stranger that Vijay was — an outsider trying to fit in.
Interestingly, while the film won six Filmfare Awards — Chopra got his fourth and last award for best director — Amitabh Bachchan lost out to Sanjeev Kumar’s “Aandhi” performance.
