What’s Missing In Angry Young Men

Angry
Young
Men
misses
some
important
elements
of
the
Salim-Javed
story,
including
an
understanding
of
the
duo’s
creative
process.
In
fact,
the
two
men
do
not
even
appear
together
in
the
same
space
in
the
series,
observes
Aseem
Chhabra.

I
was
a
young
teenager
in
1971
when
my
family
took
a
vacation
to
Jaipur
where
one
afternoon
we
went
to
see
the
latest
Rajesh
Khanna
film,

Haathi
Mere
Saathi.
I
loved
the
songs,
the
odd
story
about
a
man
and
his
love
for
his
elephants,
and
the
ending
that
left
me
in
tears.

But
I
did
not
know
that
the
screenplay
of
the
film
was
written
by
the
Salim-Javed
team,
individually
known
as
Salim
Khan
and
Javed
Akhtar.

The
next
year
on
my
birthday,
I
took
a
group
of
school
friends
to
Delhi’s
Eros
theatre
to
watch
Hema
Malini
play
a
double
role
in

Seeta
Aur
Geeta.
The
film
was
a
blast,
and
I
especially
remember
the
roller
blading
song,

Hawa
Ke
Saath
Saath.

By
then
perhaps
I
knew
the
name
of
the
film’s
director
Ramesh
Sippy.
But
again,
the
film
obsessed
teenager
in
me
was
more
or
less
clueless
about
the
two
writers
of
the
film.

I
had
missed
Sippy’s
earlier
film

Andaz,
reportedly
inspired
by
the
classic
French
film

A
Man
and
a
Woman
(1966).
Many
years
later,
I
would
learn
that
Salim-Javed
had
scripted
that
film
as
well.

I
do
not
think
there
was
ever
any
acknowledgment
of
the
French
film
by
the

Andaz
team.
It
was
actually
a
big
hit
in
France,
the
US
and
even
played
at
the
International
Film
Festival
of
India
in
Delhi,
where
my
parents
saw
it.

In
any
case,
I
now
know
that
Salim-Javed
had
a
different
take
on
lifting
key
elements
and
full
story
lines
from
other
projects.

In
renowned
film
editor
Namrata
Rao’s
new
three-part
documentary
series

Angry
Young
Men,
Salim
Khan
says:
‘Originality
is
the
art
of
concealing
the
source.’

He
was
talking
in
the
context
of
their
1975
mega-hit
film

Sholay,
which
many
people
claim
sources
key
moments
from
various
films
made
in
the
West.

Rao’s
entertaining
documentary
informs
us
that
by
1973,
we
were
well
made
aware
(even
in
cities
like
Delhi,
far
removed
from
the
buzzy
Hindi
cinema
world
of
Bombay)
of
the
Salim-Javed
team
and
their
tight
new
scripts
with
solid
punchlines.

The
first
time
it
happened
was
for
Prakash
Mehra’s

Zanjeer,
where
the
writing
duo
created
a
new
kind
of
a
hero
in
Hindi
cinema
—
the
angry
young
man,
personified
here
and
then
in
many
subsequent
films
by
a
very
raw,
young,
focused
actor
Amitabh
Bachchan.

By
the
time
the
two
wrote

Yaadon
Ki
Baaraat
(also
1973),

Deewaar
and

Sholay
(both
in
1975),
Salim-Javed
had
indeed
brought
a
solid
change
in
the
way
the
Hindi
film
industry
operated.
The
writers’
names
began
to
appear
on
the
posters
of
the
films
and
they
started
commanding
higher
salaries
than
the
top
actors.

There
is
so
much
nostalgia
enveloping
the
series.
We
are
shown
a
black
and
white
photo
of

Sholay
playing
at
Delhi’s
Plaza
Cinema
in
Connaught
Place.
Large
crowds
have
gathered
outside
the
theatre
hoping
to
buy
tickets
at
the
black-market
rate.

I
saw

Sholay
twice
at
Plaza,
once
in
the
first
week
of
the
film’s
release
(I
was
nearly
pickpocketed
in
the
line
to
buy
advance
tickets)
and
a
little
while
later,
when
friends
told
me
about
the
strange
phenomenon.
The
audience
at
different
screenings
was
mouthing
dialogues
of
the
film,
written
by
Salim-Javed.
And
we
had
to
experience
that
hitherto
unheard-of
phenomenon.

I
saw

Deewaar
before

Sholay
at
Delhi’s
Alankar
Cinema
in
Lajpat
Nagar.
My
brother
and
I
were
so
stunned
by
the
ending
and
in
fact,
by
the
entire
film,
that
we
walked
in
silence
from
Lajpat
Nagar,
cutting
through
Defence
Colony
and
to
our
home
in
South
Extension
Part
II.
I
had
never
been
this
silent
for
a
long
time.

But
it
was
not
just
the
writing
and
the
dialogues
as
delivered
by
the
actors
that
contributed
to
the
successes
of

Deewar
and

Sholay.
It
is
unfortunate
that
Rao’s
series
skips
the
fact
that
there
were
many
smaller
elements,
works
by
master
technicians
that
also
sharpened
the
films.

For
instance,
the
series
often
quotes
the

Mere
Paas
Maa
Hai
punchline
that
Shashi
Kapoor’s
Ravi
delivers
after
his
older
brother
Vijay
(Bachchan)
goes
into
the
monologue,
‘Aaj
mere
paas
paisa
hai,
bangla
hai,
gaadi
hai,
naukar
hai,
bank
balance
hai…
.’
But
as
revealed
in
Subash
Sahoo’s
2017
documentary,

The
Sound
Man
Mangesh
Desai,
the
reason
why
the
dialogue

Mere
Paas
Maa
Hai
is
so
effective
is
because
during
post-production,
Mangesh
Desai
added
a
clanking
sound
before
Kapoor
spoke
his
four-word
line.

Immediately
thereafter,
another
sound
effect
of
the
whistle
of
a
train
engine
was
also
added
by
Desai,
underlining
the
impact
of
Kapoor’s
line.

Desai
was
the
all-powerful
sound
re-recordist
who
could
add
elements
that
would
give
the
films’
narratives
different,
impactful
tones.

He
worked
with
key
film-makers
from
Yash
Chopra
to
Satyajit
Ray.

He
also
added
the
train
whistle
at
the
end
of
the

Chalte
Chalte
song
in

Pakeezah,
against
the
wishes
of
the
film’s
music
director
Ghulam
Mohammed.
But
that
sound
made
the
song
so
much
more
magical.

Even
for

Sholay,
the
sound
design
was
enhanced
by
Desai,
which
gave
the
film
a
remarkable
sense
of
edginess.

Angry
Young
Men
misses
some
important
elements
of
the
Salim-Javed
story,
including
an
understanding
of
the
duo’s
creative
process.
In
fact,
the
two
men
do
not
even
appear
together
in
the
same
space
in
the
series.

The
series
is
produced
by
Salim-Javed’s
successful
children.
And
while
it
speaks
with
honesty
about
the
struggles
of
the
two
writers,
their
loves,
marriages,
divorces
and
re-marriages,
I
could
not
help
thinking
that
the
real
goal
of
the
show
is
to
enhance
and
re-build
the
cult
and
fandom
of
Salim-Javed.

That
is
something
different
generations
of
fans
of
Hindi
cinema
would
easily
buy
into.

While
watching
the
series,
we
almost
forget
that
there
were
many
other
creative
voices
in
the
Hindi
film
industry
in
the
1970s
and
1980s.

Directors
and
writers
like
Hrishikesh
Mukherjee
and
Gulzar,
plus
many
others
were
working
at
the
same
time
and
made
some
equally
remarkable
films.

Actors
such
as
Amitabh
Bachchan,
Sanjeev
Kumar
and
Jaya
(Bhaduri)
Bachchan
would
transition
smoothly
from
the
Salim-Javed/Yash
Chopra
films
to
those
directed
by
Mukherjee
and
Gulzar.

In
addition
to
acting
in

Deewaar,
Trishul
and

Kala
Pathhar
—
all
directed
by
Yash
Chopra
and
based
on
Salim-Javed
scripts
—
Amitabh
Bachchan
also
played
the
lead
in
the
director’s
1976
film

Kabhi
Kabhie.
That
film
was
not
written
by
Salim-Javed
and
it
gave
Bachchan
a
chance
to
play
a
brooding
romantic
hero,
quite
apart
from
the
regular
angry
young
man.

There
is
a
recently
published
anthology
called

The
Swinging
70s
that
explores
the
full
scope
of
the
Hindi
film
industry
of
that
era
—
the
popular
Salim-Javed
cinema
and
beyond.
Full
disclosure:
I
have
written
a
piece
in
the
book
on
Shyam
Benegal’s
films.

Despite
its
shortcomings,

Angry
Young
Men
should
definitely
be
seen
by
fans
of
Hindi
cinema.
The
new
book
can
be
a
good
companion
piece
to
Rao’s
three-part
show.