A tribute to Guru Dutt on his birthday!

Born Vasanth Kumar Shivashankar Padukone in Bangalore in 1925, he was renamed Guru Dutt after an early childhood accident. It is also rumored that he was supposed to have dropped the latter part of his name because of his love for all things Bengali. Never formally schooled due to financial troubles at home, he joined the performing troupe of Uday Shankar (brother of Ravi Shankar) and studied with the group until it was closed down due to WWII. He later moved to Bombay and worked at a succession of film related jobs like choreographer, assistant, and also at times as actor.

A tribute to Guru Dutt on his birthday!

Born Vasanth Kumar Shivashankar Padukone in Bangalore in 1925, he was renamed Guru Dutt after an early childhood accident. It is also rumored that he was supposed to have dropped the latter part of his name because of his love for all things Bengali. Never formally schooled due to financial troubles at home, he joined the performing troupe of Uday Shankar (brother of Ravi Shankar) and studied with the group until it was closed down due to WWII. He later moved to Bombay and worked at a succession of film related jobs like choreographer, assistant, and also at times as actor.

His chance meeting with Dev Anand over a shirt exchanged by the laundry led to a lifelong friendship. They vowed to each other that if Guru Dutt made a film he would have Anand as hero, and if Dev produced a film then he would use Guru Dutt as its director. Dev Anand asked Guru Dutt to direct his Baazi - a noir thriller with wonderful music from SD Burman:



Guru Dutt never really did direct Dev in a film made by him, even though the wonderful CID was produced by him with Dev in the lead. The film also saw the beginning of the relationship between Guru Dutt and Waheeda Rehman:



The wikipedia lists the following as contributions that Baazi made to cinema:
"Baazi also highlights two early key technical developments in Indian movie-making that are attributed to Guru Dutt. The use of close-up shots with a 100 mm lens - there are over 14 in the movie - which became known in Indian movie-making as the "Guru Dutt shot", and the use of songs to further the narrative in the movie. Guru Dutt also introduced Zohra Sehgal (whom he met at Almora) as the choreographer in the movie, and he also met his future wife, Geeta Dutt during the making of the movie.:"

Guru Dutt would go on to direct, produce and act in a series of outstanding films that have retained their quality and left their mark on Indian cinema. A core company that included Waheeda Rehman, Rehman, Johnny Walker, and Abrar Alvi (as writer and director for a few films) was part of most of these ventures. In Mr. and Mrs. 55 Guru Dutt played a poor artist in a marriage of convenience to the heiress played by Madhubala:



The success of this film led to other ventures like CID, Sailaab, and eventually Pyaasa. This latter film was an intensely personal story of an artist who is never appreciated until his death. Today the film resides in many international lists of best films and is gem-like in brilliance, and yet heartbreakingly melancholic. The lover who rejects the poet for a rich spose is played by Mala Sinha, and the woman who befriends and falls in love with him is the prostitute played by Waheeda Rehman. With many shades of the classic Devdas tale, Pyaasa mirrored the real life of Guru Dutt. He too was in a marriage with Geeta Dutt and yet his relationship with Waheeda was well known and not tolerated by his wife:



The next film that Guru Dutt directed was even more melancholic and even more personal, Kagaz Ke Phool was about a director, who sees all success, and then it all flees away from him. In this one too Waheeda was the muse, the actress he falls in love with, while married to another woman. The commercial failure of this film was a huge blow to Guru Dutt, and he was unable to recover fully from the shock:



After this Guru Dutt did not direct another film, though many speculate that he was the ghost-director for both subsequent films he produced, Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam and Chadavin Ka Chand. Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam was a period film, moody and sprightly at the same time. The two leading ladies were polar opposites in character states and the film is considered to be one of Hindi cinema's masterpieces:



The other film produced by Guru Dutt was a huge box office success and it too had his indelible directorial mark. Set in the by-lanes of Lucknow, in a Muslim environment, the film about love and sacrifice, struck an instant chord with the viewers. Waheeda was the lady Guru Dutt fell in love with, and married, only to realize his best friend was also in love with the same woman....

Read more HERE

The political film - No Poets In The Republic

First, dream was never too far from nightmare. Then we lapsed into pure slumber.
by Sudhir Mishra

From Special Issue: 60 Years Of Patriotic Cinema 60 Years Of Patriotic Cinema

It is amazing how, whenever you search for anything in popular Hindi cinema, you invariably land up at Guru Dutt's doorstep! There have been other filmmakers, of course, mainly in the '50s and the '60s, who also confront the idea of India handed to them by their forefathers. Isn't that the definition of political cinema? We all inherit a world with its social norms, political systems, traditions and ideas of justice and freedom. Whether we agree or not forms the basis of how we live our lives or make our films.

These filmmakers inherited the compromise of the Congress party with the reigning pro-British Indian establishment, its continuation of the administrative and legal systems of the colonial masters, and the fact that the party joined hands with the most regressive of politico-religious elements on the Indian scene!

In the middle of it all was the ambivalent figure of Nehru, struggling with himself and the more feudal elements in his own party, with whom he had to adjust because he wanted to remain in power. So, in a sense, Pyaasa is Guru Dutt's and Sahir Ludhianvi's question to Nehru: Jinhe naaz hai Hind par woh kahaan hain?

In Guru Dutt's vision, the tragedy of the poet and the prostitute was similar. Both were doomed to destitution, disease, and emotional and social isolation. It is one of the most scathing indictments of post-Independence India. The film, like all good films, political or otherwise, provokes questions and provides no readymade solutions. The minds behind Pyaasa are "independent nationalists". No one rides into the socialist sunset holding hands but by the end the audience has gone through a journey to the heart of the Indian reality.

This is even more evident in the most profound work of the Guru Dutt-Abrar Alvi team, Sahib, Biwi aur Ghulam. Through the story of a woman's demand for sexual fulfilment, we see an entire world crumbling. There are no heroes and villains here, only victims unable to cope with the newly emergent India. There is simultaneously a lament at the disappearance of a "world" but also the ability to see its stupidity and the inevitability of its destruction. In the newly emergent India, the Waheeda Rehman character will probably not suffer the fate of the Meena Kumari character. However, these are still middle-class, upper-caste Indians. Pyaasa shows that this India still has no place for the social outcast, like the poet or the prostitute. Guru Dutt is perhaps the only non-Nehruvian and partially non-Gandhian filmmaker of his time.

The rest of them were believers. They may have been critical of the more regressive social structures of that time but seemed to believe that change was possible within the ideology of the ruling party. The struggles they depicted were similar to the one that simmered within the Congress party, between the right and left wings. Raj Kapoor was in that sense the true Nehruvian filmmaker. Filmmakers like him and Mehboob Khan dreamt of a more just and equitable India, which they believed was not being realised because of the remnants of a feudal past.

The failure of this dream probably provided an atmosphere conducive to the cinema of Manoj Kumar. His films glorified a "mythical Indian" past and were a last attempt to hang on to Victorian ideals posing as Indian tradition. This cinema reached its peak with films like Purab aur Paschim in which the enemy were sleazy Indians who had emigrated to corrupt Western lands, and posed a threat to Bharatmata and its culture. In the end, Bharat, personified by Manoj Kumar, rescued both Saira Bano and the motherland from descending into Western hell. The same undercurrent runs through Dev Anand's Hare Rama Hare Krishna, and through our times, in the films of Subhash Ghai It reaches its culmination with films like Gadar on the one hand, and Hum Aapke Hain Koun on the other. Kill the enemies of the motherland, these films seem to say, and India will once again be a paradise where life will be one big celebration, the young will blindly obey their elders, and all the bahus of the household will make laddoos and know their place.

However, in Bengal, and especially in the films of Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak, a more complex idea of India emerges. It is fashionable to posit these two great filmmakers against each other. However, in both their films, I see a lament for the unfulfilled possibilities inherent in the idea or the experiment called India. Ray, by the '70s, was a disillusioned Nehruvian, and his later films—Pratidwandi, Seema Baddho, Jana Aranya—reflect that.

He was deeply pained by the failure of the Indian state to democratise and to meet the aspirations of its people. But he also saw the futility and, I dare say, the comedy of the response against it.

True nationalist cinema or political cinema is one which allows you to visit a country and understand it in profound ways. In my view, there was only one Indian filmmaker whose entire body of work allows you to do that—Satyajit Ray. The others succeeded, but only partially.

Adoor Gopalakrishnan in Kerala, though, is an exception, and dealt with the Indian reality in an entirely personal way. His Mukhamukham is one of the most interesting political films ever made in India. It is an extremely complex piece of work and carries within it deep sadness about the failure of every kind of leadership, ideological or charismatic, and its ultimate betrayal of India.

Which brings us to the parallel cinema of the late '60s and the '70s.

If there is any one film of that time that goes where no one has gone before, it is funnily enough, the very funny Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron. The Nehruvian dream has soured and the political masters have become monsters. Everyone is totally corrupt and the city has been taken over by corrupt politicians and officialdom. In collusion with gangster-builders, they have turned the place into an unholy mess. In the midst of all this are two young photographers trying to get by in life. However, in this world they can neither find love nor maintain even a basic integrity.

In Kundan Shah's world, the poet and the prostitute of Pyaasa, and his own young photographers, are all doomed. They're all destined for the gallows and we laugh at the tragedy of it all.

The political film - No Poets In The Republic

First, dream was never too far from nightmare. Then we lapsed into pure slumber.
by Sudhir Mishra

From Special Issue: 60 Years Of Patriotic Cinema 60 Years Of Patriotic Cinema

It is amazing how, whenever you search for anything in popular Hindi cinema, you invariably land up at Guru Dutt's doorstep! There have been other filmmakers, of course, mainly in the '50s and the '60s, who also confront the idea of India handed to them by their forefathers. Isn't that the definition of political cinema? We all inherit a world with its social norms, political systems, traditions and ideas of justice and freedom. Whether we agree or not forms the basis of how we live our lives or make our films.

These filmmakers inherited the compromise of the Congress party with the reigning pro-British Indian establishment, its continuation of the administrative and legal systems of the colonial masters, and the fact that the party joined hands with the most regressive of politico-religious elements on the Indian scene!

In the middle of it all was the ambivalent figure of Nehru, struggling with himself and the more feudal elements in his own party, with whom he had to adjust because he wanted to remain in power. So, in a sense, Pyaasa is Guru Dutt's and Sahir Ludhianvi's question to Nehru: Jinhe naaz hai Hind par woh kahaan hain?

In Guru Dutt's vision, the tragedy of the poet and the prostitute was similar. Both were doomed to destitution, disease, and emotional and social isolation. It is one of the most scathing indictments of post-Independence India. The film, like all good films, political or otherwise, provokes questions and provides no readymade solutions. The minds behind Pyaasa are "independent nationalists". No one rides into the socialist sunset holding hands but by the end the audience has gone through a journey to the heart of the Indian reality.

This is even more evident in the most profound work of the Guru Dutt-Abrar Alvi team, Sahib, Biwi aur Ghulam. Through the story of a woman's demand for sexual fulfilment, we see an entire world crumbling. There are no heroes and villains here, only victims unable to cope with the newly emergent India. There is simultaneously a lament at the disappearance of a "world" but also the ability to see its stupidity and the inevitability of its destruction. In the newly emergent India, the Waheeda Rehman character will probably not suffer the fate of the Meena Kumari character. However, these are still middle-class, upper-caste Indians. Pyaasa shows that this India still has no place for the social outcast, like the poet or the prostitute. Guru Dutt is perhaps the only non-Nehruvian and partially non-Gandhian filmmaker of his time.

The rest of them were believers. They may have been critical of the more regressive social structures of that time but seemed to believe that change was possible within the ideology of the ruling party. The struggles they depicted were similar to the one that simmered within the Congress party, between the right and left wings. Raj Kapoor was in that sense the true Nehruvian filmmaker. Filmmakers like him and Mehboob Khan dreamt of a more just and equitable India, which they believed was not being realised because of the remnants of a feudal past.

The failure of this dream probably provided an atmosphere conducive to the cinema of Manoj Kumar. His films glorified a "mythical Indian" past and were a last attempt to hang on to Victorian ideals posing as Indian tradition. This cinema reached its peak with films like Purab aur Paschim in which the enemy were sleazy Indians who had emigrated to corrupt Western lands, and posed a threat to Bharatmata and its culture. In the end, Bharat, personified by Manoj Kumar, rescued both Saira Bano and the motherland from descending into Western hell. The same undercurrent runs through Dev Anand's Hare Rama Hare Krishna, and through our times, in the films of Subhash Ghai It reaches its culmination with films like Gadar on the one hand, and Hum Aapke Hain Koun on the other. Kill the enemies of the motherland, these films seem to say, and India will once again be a paradise where life will be one big celebration, the young will blindly obey their elders, and all the bahus of the household will make laddoos and know their place.

However, in Bengal, and especially in the films of Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak, a more complex idea of India emerges. It is fashionable to posit these two great filmmakers against each other. However, in both their films, I see a lament for the unfulfilled possibilities inherent in the idea or the experiment called India. Ray, by the '70s, was a disillusioned Nehruvian, and his later films—Pratidwandi, Seema Baddho, Jana Aranya—reflect that.

He was deeply pained by the failure of the Indian state to democratise and to meet the aspirations of its people. But he also saw the futility and, I dare say, the comedy of the response against it.

True nationalist cinema or political cinema is one which allows you to visit a country and understand it in profound ways. In my view, there was only one Indian filmmaker whose entire body of work allows you to do that—Satyajit Ray. The others succeeded, but only partially.

Adoor Gopalakrishnan in Kerala, though, is an exception, and dealt with the Indian reality in an entirely personal way. His Mukhamukham is one of the most interesting political films ever made in India. It is an extremely complex piece of work and carries within it deep sadness about the failure of every kind of leadership, ideological or charismatic, and its ultimate betrayal of India.

Which brings us to the parallel cinema of the late '60s and the '70s.

If there is any one film of that time that goes where no one has gone before, it is funnily enough, the very funny Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron. The Nehruvian dream has soured and the political masters have become monsters. Everyone is totally corrupt and the city has been taken over by corrupt politicians and officialdom. In collusion with gangster-builders, they have turned the place into an unholy mess. In the midst of all this are two young photographers trying to get by in life. However, in this world they can neither find love nor maintain even a basic integrity.

In Kundan Shah's world, the poet and the prostitute of Pyaasa, and his own young photographers, are all doomed. They're all destined for the gallows and we laugh at the tragedy of it all.

Ten Indian classics craving digital restoration

by Raja Sen

We don't take care of our masterpieces.

While we look to the West for inspiration and themes and technique, we don't seem to be paying attention to our finest, most historically relevant films. Even Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy is only as spectacularly viewed as it is now because of a Criterion Collection restoration.

This is a time when technology has the power to reshape a masterpiece, even make The Godfather feel as good as new. Our films deserve the digital shine just as much.

Here, then, are ten films we don't get to see the way they deserve to be. Ten films that haven't been Criterion'd, digitally restored or retouched, with a couple lamentably not even in existence anymore.

Raja Harishchandra

India's entry to the Oscars this year was a clever Marathi film calledHarishchandrachi Factory, a fictional take on how Dadasaheb Phalke made the first full-length feature film. Ironically, this film itself is not available for viewing.

The National Film Archive has only the first and the last reel out of the film's four reels, and it is tragic that this monumental achievement has been lost to us, seemingly forever.

Alam Ara

Ardeshir Irani's Alam Ara, made in 1931, was India's first talkie. Remarkably, it featured much music, its seven songs setting a template for Indian cinema to this day.

Inspired by Rodgers and Hammerstein's Show Boat, the film is a love story. However, because of a 2003 fire at the National Archives, the film is no longer available for viewing.

Neecha Nagar

Chetan Anand's 1946 masterpiece was India's first film to be internationally recognised, winning the Grand Prix at Cannes that year.

Written by Khwaja Ahmad Abbas and based on Maxim Gorky'sLower Depths, the film examined the great divide between the classes.

Much acclaim has also gone to the film's music, marking the first time Ravi Shankar worked on a film. Even now the film, about a tyrant hoarding water for a profit and then opening a hospital to treat those struck by contaminated water, feels alarmingly relevant.

While this film is available, the print leaves a lot to be desired, and this national treasure surely merits a proper digital spit-and-shine.

Read more from HERE

Ten Indian classics craving digital restoration

by Raja Sen

We don't take care of our masterpieces.

While we look to the West for inspiration and themes and technique, we don't seem to be paying attention to our finest, most historically relevant films. Even Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy is only as spectacularly viewed as it is now because of a Criterion Collection restoration.

This is a time when technology has the power to reshape a masterpiece, even make The Godfather feel as good as new. Our films deserve the digital shine just as much.

Here, then, are ten films we don't get to see the way they deserve to be. Ten films that haven't been Criterion'd, digitally restored or retouched, with a couple lamentably not even in existence anymore.

Raja Harishchandra

India's entry to the Oscars this year was a clever Marathi film calledHarishchandrachi Factory, a fictional take on how Dadasaheb Phalke made the first full-length feature film. Ironically, this film itself is not available for viewing.

The National Film Archive has only the first and the last reel out of the film's four reels, and it is tragic that this monumental achievement has been lost to us, seemingly forever.

Alam Ara

Ardeshir Irani's Alam Ara, made in 1931, was India's first talkie. Remarkably, it featured much music, its seven songs setting a template for Indian cinema to this day.

Inspired by Rodgers and Hammerstein's Show Boat, the film is a love story. However, because of a 2003 fire at the National Archives, the film is no longer available for viewing.

Neecha Nagar

Chetan Anand's 1946 masterpiece was India's first film to be internationally recognised, winning the Grand Prix at Cannes that year.

Written by Khwaja Ahmad Abbas and based on Maxim Gorky'sLower Depths, the film examined the great divide between the classes.

Much acclaim has also gone to the film's music, marking the first time Ravi Shankar worked on a film. Even now the film, about a tyrant hoarding water for a profit and then opening a hospital to treat those struck by contaminated water, feels alarmingly relevant.

While this film is available, the print leaves a lot to be desired, and this national treasure surely merits a proper digital spit-and-shine.

Read more from HERE

'Guru Dutt attempted suicide thrice' - V.K. Murthy

V K Murthy is the first ever cinematographer to be chosen for the prestigious Dada Saheb Phalke award for his outstanding contribution to films.

The legend worked on almost all the Guru Dutt films, with the exception of Baazi.

An excellent cinematographer, his lighting techniques in Pyaasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool and Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam crafted some of the finest images in Indian cinema.

He was the first man in India to shoot in Cinemascope, and his famous 'beam shot' in the Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam sequence from Pyaasa is considered a classic moment in celluloid history.

When we had interviewed Murthy in October 2004, he happily shared some of his best moments with us. We showcase an interview once again:

I first met Guru Dutt while working for Famous Studios as an assistant cameraman. Dev Anand's Navketan had hired the studio to make Baazi.

It all began when I suggested a difficult shot, which Guru Dutt said his cameraman would not be able to execute. I requested him to ask for his cameraman's permission for me to attempt the shot. Guru Dutt allowed two, three takes, but I managed the shot in the first take.

After the day's pack-up, he asked me if we could work together from his next film.

He was a great director, very creative, and very interested in his work. He was a serious person, and did not lose his cool unnecessarily. But like all creative people, he was very demanding of his co-workers.

We quarreled a couple of times because of the time I took to set up the lighting. We had a big argument during the making of Aar Paar. Later, he explained how he was under pressure to deliver quickly, and that we needed to cooperate and work faster. He was a reasonable man, and from then on, we worked harmoniously.

He was a 'normal' person, very jovial. His lifestyle was that of a lower-middle-class person, and he maintained that despite his success. We often went to eat dosa and bhelpuri. We played cricket in the studio compound, and later, we prepared a badminton court with chattai.

Working with him was a terrific experience. He worked on serious subjects, the intellectual type of work. He was hesitant to face the camera as actor, but he did so at my insistence. I was sure because he understood the roles so well.

His process involved finalisation of the screenplay and dialogues. This involved many rewrites between him and Abrar Alvi. He could not critique his acting adequately, and so this job was up to Abrar or I. He would never compromise on the way the film turned out, the way each scene linked with the other. He was an obsessive director, and until the shot came out just as he wanted he would continue with as many takes as he needed, without a break.

He never said 'okay, jaane do.'

He wasn't open to interference, except sometimes from the writer or me. No one had the kind of understanding with him that I shared. I never interfered with scenes and all, but photography was my job, where he never interfered. But I never refused his suggestions.

He was often furious with second-string actors. After explaining repeatedly, they would still not do a particular scene well, and he would lose his patience and pack up. Even with himself, for the famous Pyaasa scene, he shot 104 takes! He kept forgetting the dialogues as it was a very lengthy shot, but he wanted it just right.

We started the shot at 5 pm, and it went on till 10:30 pm. When I asked him to stop for the day and try it afresh later, he was adamant. We finally packed up at 11:30 pm. Finally, the next morning we canned it perfectly on the very first take!

He would shout and get bad-tempered when things did not go right. But it was part of his spirit and I didn't feel bad. I shouted back at him too. In charge of the camera and the lights, I made the heroines look good and so I was very popular among them, and he would mockingly sulk and say, 'Main director hoon, mujhse baat nahin karti! [I am the director, you don't talk to me]'

Once I tried a different type of lighting with his permission for a comedy film. But after seeing two or three shots, he asked me to do it in another style. So he didn't like bright things. Once he got angry with me because I took a lot of time to set up a shot. He told me that when he could afford it, he would make a movie for my sake, where I could take my own time to arrange the shots. So we made Kaagaz Ke Phool.

Kaagaz Ke Phool was India's first Cinemascope film. We had seen it in foreign films, and Guru Dutt wanted to do something novel for this film. We were inspired by one man, Prabhu, the manager of 20th Century Fox. They had come to India to shoot a film in Cinemascope and, after the shooting, left their lenses in their Indian office.

Prabhu asked Guru Dutt if he would like to try the equipment. Guru Dutt was intrigued and we tried some shots, saw the rushes and decided that we would do Kaagaz Ke Phool in this format.

Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam was a milestone in terms of lighting. We were shooting a difficult scene in Natraj Studio in the afternoon, and the light came through the ventilator. The beam looked so good that I showed it to Guru Dutt. He said we would use that in our film, but it was complicated.

He asked me to use sunlight. So we brought two huge mirrors and kept one outside the studio in the sun, that reflected the light onto another mirror, kept on the catwalk, and opened the balcony door to the studio. Light reflected from one to the other and the beam was created. We added some smoke to it, and that scene became a phenomenal craze in the history of cinematography!

Read more from HERE

'Guru Dutt attempted suicide thrice' - V.K. Murthy

V K Murthy is the first ever cinematographer to be chosen for the prestigious Dada Saheb Phalke award for his outstanding contribution to films.

The legend worked on almost all the Guru Dutt films, with the exception of Baazi.

An excellent cinematographer, his lighting techniques in Pyaasa, Kaagaz Ke Phool and Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam crafted some of the finest images in Indian cinema.

He was the first man in India to shoot in Cinemascope, and his famous 'beam shot' in the Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam sequence from Pyaasa is considered a classic moment in celluloid history.

When we had interviewed Murthy in October 2004, he happily shared some of his best moments with us. We showcase an interview once again:

I first met Guru Dutt while working for Famous Studios as an assistant cameraman. Dev Anand's Navketan had hired the studio to make Baazi.

It all began when I suggested a difficult shot, which Guru Dutt said his cameraman would not be able to execute. I requested him to ask for his cameraman's permission for me to attempt the shot. Guru Dutt allowed two, three takes, but I managed the shot in the first take.

After the day's pack-up, he asked me if we could work together from his next film.

He was a great director, very creative, and very interested in his work. He was a serious person, and did not lose his cool unnecessarily. But like all creative people, he was very demanding of his co-workers.

We quarreled a couple of times because of the time I took to set up the lighting. We had a big argument during the making of Aar Paar. Later, he explained how he was under pressure to deliver quickly, and that we needed to cooperate and work faster. He was a reasonable man, and from then on, we worked harmoniously.

He was a 'normal' person, very jovial. His lifestyle was that of a lower-middle-class person, and he maintained that despite his success. We often went to eat dosa and bhelpuri. We played cricket in the studio compound, and later, we prepared a badminton court with chattai.

Working with him was a terrific experience. He worked on serious subjects, the intellectual type of work. He was hesitant to face the camera as actor, but he did so at my insistence. I was sure because he understood the roles so well.

His process involved finalisation of the screenplay and dialogues. This involved many rewrites between him and Abrar Alvi. He could not critique his acting adequately, and so this job was up to Abrar or I. He would never compromise on the way the film turned out, the way each scene linked with the other. He was an obsessive director, and until the shot came out just as he wanted he would continue with as many takes as he needed, without a break.

He never said 'okay, jaane do.'

He wasn't open to interference, except sometimes from the writer or me. No one had the kind of understanding with him that I shared. I never interfered with scenes and all, but photography was my job, where he never interfered. But I never refused his suggestions.

He was often furious with second-string actors. After explaining repeatedly, they would still not do a particular scene well, and he would lose his patience and pack up. Even with himself, for the famous Pyaasa scene, he shot 104 takes! He kept forgetting the dialogues as it was a very lengthy shot, but he wanted it just right.

We started the shot at 5 pm, and it went on till 10:30 pm. When I asked him to stop for the day and try it afresh later, he was adamant. We finally packed up at 11:30 pm. Finally, the next morning we canned it perfectly on the very first take!

He would shout and get bad-tempered when things did not go right. But it was part of his spirit and I didn't feel bad. I shouted back at him too. In charge of the camera and the lights, I made the heroines look good and so I was very popular among them, and he would mockingly sulk and say, 'Main director hoon, mujhse baat nahin karti! [I am the director, you don't talk to me]'

Once I tried a different type of lighting with his permission for a comedy film. But after seeing two or three shots, he asked me to do it in another style. So he didn't like bright things. Once he got angry with me because I took a lot of time to set up a shot. He told me that when he could afford it, he would make a movie for my sake, where I could take my own time to arrange the shots. So we made Kaagaz Ke Phool.

Kaagaz Ke Phool was India's first Cinemascope film. We had seen it in foreign films, and Guru Dutt wanted to do something novel for this film. We were inspired by one man, Prabhu, the manager of 20th Century Fox. They had come to India to shoot a film in Cinemascope and, after the shooting, left their lenses in their Indian office.

Prabhu asked Guru Dutt if he would like to try the equipment. Guru Dutt was intrigued and we tried some shots, saw the rushes and decided that we would do Kaagaz Ke Phool in this format.

Waqt ne kiya kya haseen sitam was a milestone in terms of lighting. We were shooting a difficult scene in Natraj Studio in the afternoon, and the light came through the ventilator. The beam looked so good that I showed it to Guru Dutt. He said we would use that in our film, but it was complicated.

He asked me to use sunlight. So we brought two huge mirrors and kept one outside the studio in the sun, that reflected the light onto another mirror, kept on the catwalk, and opened the balcony door to the studio. Light reflected from one to the other and the beam was created. We added some smoke to it, and that scene became a phenomenal craze in the history of cinematography!

Read more from HERE

V.K. Murthy chosen for the Dada Saheb Phalke Award for the year 2008.

Cinematographer V K Murthy has been chosen for the Dada Saheb Phalke Award for the year 2008.

The award is conferred annually by the Government of India [ Images ] for outstanding contribution to films. This is the first time that a cinematographer has been selected for this award.

Murthy is credited with providing some of Indian cinema's most breathtaking visual moments in classics like Guru Dutt's Kagaz Ke Phool, Sahib Biwi Aur Ghulam, Baazi, Jaal, Chaudavin Ka Chand, Pyasa, 12 O'Clock and Ziddi. In fact, he has worked in most of Guru Dutt's movies.

He also partnered for Pakeezah and Razia Sultan.

Read more from HERE

V.K. Murthy chosen for the Dada Saheb Phalke Award for the year 2008.

Cinematographer V K Murthy has been chosen for the Dada Saheb Phalke Award for the year 2008.

The award is conferred annually by the Government of India [ Images ] for outstanding contribution to films. This is the first time that a cinematographer has been selected for this award.

Murthy is credited with providing some of Indian cinema's most breathtaking visual moments in classics like Guru Dutt's Kagaz Ke Phool, Sahib Biwi Aur Ghulam, Baazi, Jaal, Chaudavin Ka Chand, Pyasa, 12 O'Clock and Ziddi. In fact, he has worked in most of Guru Dutt's movies.

He also partnered for Pakeezah and Razia Sultan.

Read more from HERE

Aamir-Katrina Recreate Guru Dutt-Waheeda Rahman

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Aamir-Katrina Recreate Guru Dutt-Waheeda Rahman

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