YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Sholay is the highest grossing film of all time in Indian cinema. The movie has earned Rs. 768,81,00,000, equivalent to US$ 160 million, after adjusting for inflation. When first released, the film was declared a commercial disaster. Word of mouth convinced movie-goers to give the film a chance and soon it became a box-office phenomenon. It ran for 286 weeks straight (more than five years) in one Mumbai theatre, the Minerva. Sholay racked up a still standing record 60 golden jubilees across India and doubled its original gross over reruns during the late 1970s, 1980s, 1990s and early 2000s. Sholay was the first film in the history of Indian cinema to celebrate a silver jubilee (25 weeks) at over a hundred theaters across India

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

'Sholay'

Mention the name and you will be greeted with a volley of well-rehearsed dialogues...'Arre O Samba…Kitne Aadmi The?…Sarkar Maine Aapka Namak Khaya Hai… Ab goli Kha…Hum Angrezon Ke Zamane Ke jailor Hain…Soorma Bhopali A1…Yeh Haath Mujhe Dede Thakur…Chal Basanti, aaj Teri Basanti Ki Izzat Ka Sawal Hai…

' The list is endless. Every dialogue is a moviegoer's delight. Today it is impossible to see the film in a theatre, what with the crowd delighting in repeating the dialogues along with the characters. Therein lies its strength. Sholay is the greatest, if not the highest money-spinning movie of all times in India. (For the simple reason that the tickets in 1975 cost a mere Rupees Four! But at today's rates, the six year run (not to add the repeat runs) of the movie would ensure returns that would be unfathomable. Producer: G.P. Sippy | Director: Ramesh Sippy | Screenplay: Salim Javed | Camera: Dwarka The very mention of the film, 'Sholay' produces an automatic response of fear and trepidation. One tends to conjure up intimidating images of dhamakedar dacoits and dashing damsels,who incidentally are in a fair ammount of distress. The film is fraught with high voltage drama and tension enough to make a grown man weak-kneed.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"



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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

As a movie, it is difficult to categorize into any single genre. It could well be clubbed as action or drama, musical or romance. It was also seen by some as the curry-western, a milieu of Indian spice and western machoism. In fact many a parallel has been drawn between 'Sholay' and John Ford's 'Stagecoach' (1939). Whatever it classifies as does not interest us because this Ramesh Sippy - Javed Akhtar brainchild blew the collective minds of an entire generation of Indian moviegoers. And is still doing so.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The tale is one of Thakur Baldev Singh, played by the late Sanjeev Kumar, once a senior police officer. In an attempt to fight the evil dacoit Gabbar Singh (the dynamic debut of Amjad Khan), he joins hands with two local smalltime crooks, who despite their criminal records have hearts of gold. The Thakur is quick to recognize the underlying humanity beneath their fearless, tough-as-nails exterior.

These two outlaws, Jaidev and Veeru (played to perfection by Amitabh and Dharmendra respectively) procede to Ramgarh, the Thakur's estate. In an exceptionally poignant moment of the film, the two while trying to break into the Thakur's safe at night and escape with the loot are seen by Radha, the Thakur's widowed daughter-in-law, who offers them the keys on the grounds that at least it would open her father's eyes to the fact that they are crooks, and not the brave fighters he perceived them as.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Through the device of the flashback, the viewer is let into the traumatic past at the same time as Jaidev and Veeru are enlightened by the Thakur. It is here that we are introduced to the character of Gabbar Singh played by the invincible Amjad Khan. Who, on being caught by the Thakur and unceremoniously being sent to jail, swore revenge. Gabbbar Singh escapes soon after and guns down the Thakur's entire family ruthlessly. This scene of carnage and relentless massacre went down in the annals of history as the goriest bloodbath in Indian cinema at the time. The only one to escape the carnage was the youngest daughter-in-law, Radha, who was away at the temple. Coming home to this devastation, the Thakur in a violent rage, rode unarmed to the ravines where Gabbar Singh reigned. Finding him helpless and ironically vulnerable, Gabbar Singh chose to hack off the Thakur's arms which had once held him prisoner.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Gabbar Singh went on to become yet another iconic figure-head of terror. His opening exclamation "Suar ke bachchon!!! " is a classic example of his irreverance. He was the kind of man who wouldn't lose sleep over feeding golis to his namak consuming chelas. He delivers one hundred percent of the quintessential villian, one who pursues evil as an end in itself. On the more romantic front, Veeru falls in love with the gregarious tangewali Basanti, while the more serious Jaidev feels drawn to the young and lonely Radha, who watches him silently from a distance. When Veeru goes to keep a rendezvous with Basanti, he discovers that she's been kidnapped by Gabbar's men. To add fuel to the fire, Gabbar orders Basanti to dance on splinters of glass if she wishes to see her love-interest alive. This time it is an all out war, and the men fight it out desperately. Fatally wounded, Jaidev pretends he is mildly hurt, and sends Veeru back to the village with Basanti. He manages to heroically blow up a bridge and kill most of the bandits. At this point Thakur arrives on the scene and insists on fighting Gabbar alone.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"



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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

What follows is a rather dramatic display of footwork, enough to give Ronaldo a run for his money. Thakur hits out with his hobnailed shoes at a wily Gabbar, who without the protection of his gang becomes a cowering beast. With Jaidev dead, Veeru decides to leave Ramgarh, but in the empty compartment of the sleepy train he finds … Surprise!!! A coy Basanti waiting for him in heated anticipation. The film is groundbreaking because of it's unabashed display of violence and gore as well as for it's repertoire of catch phrases, which have inspired many a free spirited rebel who wished to talk tough. Several wannabe Gabbar Singhs spouted daku-lingo merrily, much to the displeasure of all mild mannered gentry. Interestingly enough, when the film was released it didn't open very well. This was attributed to the fact that it was way ahead of its time. But its six year uninterrupted run at the box office gave it enough time to catch up with its swashbuckling style. Thus it is safe to say that emerging as a brilliant little spark of superlative filmmaking, 'Sholay' built up enough punch to rewrite movie history. It continued to gather momentum as it went along the rugged terrain of time and transformed into a raging orb of fire, destroying all conventions that came across it's path.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The film has made use of several interesting innovations. This included, spectacular cinematography, with shots panning over rocky heights and barren landscapes, often under the menacing shadow of a threatening cloud. It was also the first film to be shot in the large-screen, 70mm format with stereophonic sound. This gave the film most of it's pulsating tension. Although in present times of desensitization, one would not even bat an eyelid at the most gruesome of murders, for its time, 'Sholay' was a revolutionary film, which inspired many film makers to continue its trend of imaginative cinema. To date 'Sholay' remains a cult film by any standard. Many clones followed, but the original will always stay fresh in the minds of all movie lovers. It's doubtful whether any will ever surpass the sheer canvas and magnitude of 'Sholay'. Maybe in terms of money spent or money earned. But in completeness? In script? In cohesion of a story well told or a project well received? Doubtul.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

As Gabbar would say, "Pachas kos door jab bachcha rota hai to maa kehti hai, bete soja, warna Gabbar aa jaayega.." However it goes without saying, that the fame of Gabbar and thereby 'Sholay' goes way beyond the pachas kos margin.No one could of have imagined the spectacular degree of SHOLAY's success. The film changed lives, transformed careers, and even twenty-five years after its release it remains the box office gold standard, a reference point for both the Indian film-going audience and the film industry. Over the years, 'Sholay has transcended its hit-movie status. It is not merely a film, it is the ultimate classic; it is myth. It is a part of our heritage as Indians. The film, still as compellingly watchable as it was when first released (in 1999 BBC-India and assorted internet polls declared it the Film of the Millenium), arouses intense passions. Its appeal cuts across barriers of geography, language, ideology and class: an advertising guru in Mumbai will speak as enthusiastically and eloquently about the film as a rickshaw driver in hyderabad.And the devotion is often fanatical. 'Sholay' connoisseurs - to call them 'fans' would be insulting their ardour - speak casually of seeing the film fifty, sixty even seventy times. Dialogue has been memorized. Also the unique background music: the true 'Sholay' buff can pre-empt all the sound effects. He can also name Gabbar's arms dealer who is on screen for less than thirty seconds (Hira), and Gabbar's father who is mentioned only once as Gabbar's sentence is read out in court ('Gabbar Singh, vald Hari Singh...')

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Bollywood buzes with 'Sholay' stories: how a Jaipur housewife obsessed vith Veeru convinced her husband to assume the name of her beloved screen hero; how Prakash bhai, a black marketeer at Delhi's Plaza Cinema, sold tickets for the film at Rs 150 for five months and eventually bought himself a small house in Seelampur, which he decorated with 'Sholay' posters; how a tough-looking immigration officer in New York waved actor Macmohan through because he had seen 'Sholay' and reconized Sambha, 'The man on the rock with a gun'. There are autorickshaws in Patna named Dhanno, and potent drinks in five-star bars called Gabbar.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

'Sholay's dialogue has now become colloquial language, part of the way a nation speaks to itself. Single lines, even phrases, taken out of context, can communicate a whole range of meaning and emotion. In canteens across the country, collegians still echo Gabbar when they notice a budding romance: 'Bahut yaarana hai.' The lines come easily to the lips of Indians: 'Jo dar gaya, samjho mar gaya', 'Ai chhammia', 'Arre o Sambha', Kitne aadmi the?', 'Hum angrezon ke zamaane ke jailer hain'

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Nothing in Indian popular culture has matched this magic. Critics might argue that 'Mother India' or 'Mughal-e-Azam' were better films, and trade pundits might point out that in 1994 'Hum Aapke Hain Kaun' broke 'Sholay's box-office record. But none of these films can rival 'Sholay' in the scale and longevity of its success. 'Sholay' was a watershed event. Director Shekhar Kapur puts it best: 'There has never been a more defining film on the Indian screen. Indian Film history can be divided into 'Sholay' BC and 'Sholay AD.'

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

There is more to Kapur's statement than just the passion of a hopeless admirer. 'Sholay' is, in fact, the Indian Film industry's textbook. The film married a potentially B-grade genre narrative to the big budget of a mainstream extravaganza, and taught the industry how formula can beget a classic.'It is,' says adman and scriptwriter Piyush Pandey, 'undoubtedly the best film made in this country.' 'Sholay' transformed action into high art. Stylized mayhem replaced the sissy 'dishum-dishum fist fights of the past. Violence became a Hindi-movie staple for nineteen years, until 'Hum Aapke Hain Kaun' flagged off the feel-good era.'Sholay' also set standards for technical excellence. Other films of the seventies seem shoddy and dated, but 'Sholay' is a masterpiece of craft.To this day,directors quote 'Sholay' in their films,allude to it in their frames

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

What is it about 'Sholay' that works on us still? When people watch 'Sholay' today, certain aspects of the film seduce them all over again: the soaring imagination of the story and the way it is told; the vitality of the scorching rocky landscape, charging horses and falling men; the gritty directorial conviction that allows an unhurried tale to be developed, full of texture and rhythm. The elements fall into place perfectly:a marvellous chemistry between the actors; a fable like story detailed into a superb script; unforgettable dialogue and fine performances. The film skillfully blends traditional and modern elements. It has, as author Nasreen Munni Kabir says, 'Differences in lifestyles which co-exist without appearing illogical.' The steam engines, the horses, the guns and the denim give the film an ageless quality, a feeling of several centuries existing next to each other.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Producer G.P Sippy and Ramesh Sippy dreamed big, and they had the courage to follow their instincts. Money, market, box-office - all these commercial considerations became, in the final analysis, secondary. The prime motive was to make a mega movie, the like of which had never been seen before on the Indian screen. Ramanagaram was a vast emptiness, a blank canvas waiting to be fashioned into fantasy. A crew of nearly a hundred people worked round the clock to construct an entire village.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Ramanagaram, an hour's drive from Bangalore, has a varied topography. Building-sized black boulders arch toward the sky. Small knolls seque into grassy flatlands. It is austere but textured. Ramesh loved it. He flew in the next day with his cinematographer, Dwarka Divecha, and two assistants from the production and direction departments. 'It captured my imagination,' he says. 'I was facinated.' Divecha cast his eagle eye on the landscape, and confirmed his decision.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Pleasing Divecha wasn't easy. He was a crotchety old curmudgeon with a painter's eye and a sailer's mouth. He could be extremely difficult, but if you wanted the best for your film, you put up with it. He had experienced the ugliness of life, and he hadn't survived by being soft. Divecha had started his film career in 1936 as an assistant cameraman and gradually worked his way up. Top directors like Kardar, H,S Rawail and L.V Prasad all swore by him. His reputation was fierce. Dressed in a white bosky bush shirt, white pants and black shoes, Divecha saab was a Hitler on the sets.A stickler for punctuality, he would let loose on assistants even if they were late by a minute: 'Aadmi ho yah janwar,' he would scream, 'tumko timing samajh nahin aati kya? If he happened to arrive at the set early, he would wait in the car and walk into the set only at the exact minute the shift was scheduled to start. But the temper wasn't reserved for underlings alone. Even top stars rarely escaped Divecha's wrath. He made the stars stand in place while he lit shots - subsitutes weren't allowed - and shouted if they fidgeted 'Hema, itna kyun hilti hai? (Why do you move so much Hema?).

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

But off the set, Hitler thawed into a colourful, affectionate man. He was a shaukeen aadmi, with a taste for the good things in life. When he wasn't shooting, Divecha would be at home, ensconced in his favourite chair, holding a glass (always whisky) and a cigarette (Chesterfield or Camel) either listening to music (ghazals) or reading a book. When he spoke, he might have been a scholar, except that he swore incessantly. Divecha had no children but kept a large Alsation dog, whom he called his son. Like Ramesh, Divecha was a rigorous perfectionist.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

'Sholay' grew from paper into plans, and it gained weight and size and ambition.The Sippy's wanted to make 'Sholay' the biggest and the best adventure film ever, and they would make no compromises. The traditional 35mm format, they felt, wouldn't do justice to their vision. They were aiming for epic grandeur. So a decision was made: 'Sholay' would be India's first 70mm film with stereophonic sound. The 70mm film format offered double the size. The major Hollywood action movies at the time, such as 'Mckenna's Gold', were shot in this format because it gave the viewer, quite literally, a big movie experience. But the decision to do 'Sholay' in this format added another layer of compliations. Shooting in 70mm wasn't easy. It required huge camera's which could take 70mm film. Importing the camera's was an expensive proposition.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The most practical solution was to shoot on 35mm and then blow it up for 70mm. The format was screen-tested. Divecha suggested putting aground glass in front of the camera lens, on which Kamlakar Rao, a young but technically skilled cameraman, made markings so the margins of the 70mm frame could be identified. Ramesh's brother Ajit, who lived in London, forwarded the test to Paris, where a 70mm print was made. The print came back with further instructions on how to perfect the technique. A 70mm film also required bigger screens, and most theatres in India weren't equipped for it. The Sippy's decided to have two sets of negatives, one in 70mm and the other one in 35mm. In practical terms, this meant that every shot would have to be done twice. Each decision added to the cost.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"



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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Amjad Khan filled the doorway. He was not a particularly large man, but his lumbering gait, thickset face and curly hair gave him the appearance of one. Director Ramesh Sippy was lying on the diwan with his back to the door. From the low angle, Amjad loomed larger. Something clicked. 'He had an interesting face,' says Ramesh. 'I felt very positive.' Panic had set in after Danny's departure. Shooting was less than a month away. And Gabbar Singh was no ordinary character. It was a pivotal role. The actor had to have both talent and charisma to hold his own against the galaxy of stars. Bad casting could destroy the film. Amjad was the younger son of character artiste Jayant. His home production, Patthar ke Sanam,which was supposed to launch him, was announced but never made. He had assisted K Asif in Love and God and also done a bit role in the film. The credentials were hardly impressive. But in theatre Amjad had a strong reputation. A few days after Danny left, Salim bumped into Amjad. Salim knew Amjad's father, and had been visiting their home since Amjad was a little boy. A polite conversation ensued in which Salim asked Amjad about work. There wasn't much, just bit roles and theatre.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Salim had heard about Amjad's skills as an actor, and physically he seemed to fit the role. 'I can't promise you anything,' he told Amjad, 'but there is a role in a big film. 'll take you to the director. Agar aap ko yeh role mil jaaye, aap ki koshish se yea aapki kismat se (If you get this role, whether by luck or effort),I tell you, it is the finest role in this film.' Amjad seemed to fit the part, but he was unknown. Could he carry the film? He was asked to grow a beard and come back. Meanwhile, Ramesh and Salim-Javed pondered. Salim-Javed were convinced that Amjad was the right choice.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Amjad was enthusiastic but insecure, and badgered his wife constantly: 'Do you think I'll be able to do it?' 'Of course,' she would say, 'you're a good actor. I've seen all your plays.' 'But this is a different ball game' 'So what? You've been part of 'Love and God'... your father is an actor...' 'All that dosn't matter. Do you think I'll be able to do this?'

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The morning Amjad was to leave for Bangalore, he put the Quran on his head and prayed. Shaila was surprised. Amjad was a spiritual person but he rarely prayed. As abruptly as he had started, he stopped. He placed the holy book back in its place, said, 'I think I'll be able to do it,' and drove to the airport. The flight didn't reach Bangalore. There was a hydraulic failure, and the pilot was forced to keep circling over Mumbai. After dumping fuel for hours, the plane landed back in Mumbai. Amjad sat at the airport but didn't call home. After five hours, it was announced that the technical faults had been fixed and the plane was ready to take-off. Not many passengers had the stomach to get on that plane again mjad was among the four or five who finally flew on it. He had to reach Bangalore. Through the flight, he wasn't thinking about his wife or his one month-old son. His only terror was: 'If this plane crashes, Danny gets Gabbar' (the first choice for the role but lost out to date commitments.)

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Gabbar Singh was not having a good day. It was Amjad's first day of shooting. They were starting with the scene in which he is introduced. His first line was, 'Kitne aadmi the?' All his life had led to this moment. The years of theatre rehearsals, knocking on doors for acting jobs, sweating it out as an assistant -- the Gabbar role had made all that seem worthwhile. His army fatigues, picked up from Mumbai's Chor Bazaar, had the right weathered look. His teeth were blackened. His face was appropriately grimy. He had lived the part for the last few months. But now, when it was time to deliver, he just could not get it right. Gabbar had to mince tambaku (tobacco) as he talked. The motion of one hand grinding against another added to his menace. It was supposed to be his habit. But Amjad could not make it look casual. He would grind the tobacco, speak a few lines, look around awkwardly and then return to grinding. He was nervous and it showed; his hands were stiff, his movements seemed rehearsed, and his dialogue delivery was shaky. There was nothing natural about his performances; Gabbar was a stranger to Amjad.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Ramesh kept talking to him, trying to help him get his lines right. They struggled for two days. After forty-odd takes, both Ramesh and cameraman Dwarka Divecha decided the actor needed a break. Divecha told Amjad to keep his costume on and just sit on the sets. 'Tu apne aap ko season kar de (Season yourself).' Amjad cried that night. His father was in hospital fighting cancer. His son was only a month old. His family's hopes were pinned on this film. For the rest of the schedule, Amjad lived in the fatigues, trying to become Gabbar. He wrote often to his wife, but never shared with her the extent of his trauma. All he wrote was: 'I'm very impatient… I don't know… I hope I can do it.' Since he didn't drink, he would spend the evenings nursing endless cups of tea. Through the entire schedule, he didn't do a single shot.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Amjad found out about the rumours much later. But the incident sowed the seeds of misunderstanding between him and Salim-Javed. He could not understand why two people, who had ardently recommended him for the role, had then tried to get him thrown out. He saw it as a move to sabotage his career. The hurt stayed with him till his death. Salim-Javed gave birth to the Amjad myth, but they never worked with him again.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The 'Sholay' unit had a ten - to fifteen-day schedule in Bangalore every month, from October 1973 to May 1974. Each time they managed to get some work done, but not enough. The delays were further compounded because 70mm required that each shot had to be taken twice. After seven months work, hardly one-third of the film had been shot. 'Sholay' had been planned as a six-month project. Nobody imagined that eventually it would take so long that Macmohan, playing Sambha, one of the smallest roles in the film, would travel twenty-seven times from Mumbai to Bangalore.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Ramesh retained his famous cool. He had a grand vision of 'Sholay' and wasn't going to let delays force him to make compromises. As the budget soared beyond the original one crore, G.P Sippy did make the occasional noise. 'What the hell is going on?' he would ask. But he never pulled the plug. He was a gambler going for the big one. The funds kept flowing.

Yet, despite all the planning, things started to go wrong. The first schrdule was ten days long, but very little work got done. Some days they managed to get ten shots right, and on others, none at all. In the November schedule, Ramesh completed only one scene. The No Compromise resolve was set in stone. Ramesh and Divecha were like painters trying to perfect their canvas, with G.P. Sippy, a patron of the arts, bankrolling their dreams, budget and timetables took a backseat.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

'Sholay's centerpiece - the massacre sequence in which Gabbar obliterates the Thakur's family - was shot in twenty-three days over three schedules. It was a complicated scene with several parts: establishing the family, Gabbar's arrival, the shootings, and then the Thakur's arrival on the scene after Gabbar and his men have slaughtered his family and retreated. Half the scene had been shot when the weather changed and the bright sun was replaced by an overcast sky. For two days, the unit waited for the sun to reappear. Then Ramesh realized that the dark clouds were a celestial signal: the overcast look was perfect for the scene. It underlined the tragedy and heightened the sense of doom. It also logically led to the point where the wind starts to build up and dry leaves are blown over the dead bodies. He onferred with Divecha. 'It won't just look good,' Divecha said, 'it will look very good. But what will we do if the sun comes out tomorrow?' Ramesh was willing to take he chance. 'Let's shoot,' he said.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

They shot furiously for the next two days. And then the sun popped out again. After a week of work, they had two versions of the same half scene, one against a bright sky and the other against an overcast one. But Ramesh was determined. It was going to be clouds or nothing. So they waited for the gods to do the lighting. With the sun playing hide and seek, there were days when they managed to get only one shot and some when they simply stared at the skies. Filming came to a complete halt. To speed up the process, Divecha asked Anwar to make a screen to bounce the light off. The screen had to be bigger than the house. Anwar ended up buying all the white cloth in the vicinity to create a seventy-foot-by- hundred-foot screen. He stitched it himself with strong canvas thread. With the huge screen in place, shooting was resumed, but there were shots for which the effect created by the screen wasn't good enough.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The gods had to intervene and bring back the clouds. But it wasn't just the clouds. Nothing seemed to go right. As they neared the end of the sequence, the little boy playing Thakur's grandson, Master Alankar, had exams. He would lose an academic year if he didn't sit for them. Ramesh let him go. Then the propeller, which worked up an appropriate wind to blow dry leaves onto the dead bodies, decided to do its own thing. It wouldn't start when they needed it to. And once started, it would just keep going. Finally, an aeronautics unit near Bangalore built another propeller. It worked perfectly. The wind blew yellow-brown leaves onto the bodies and the white shroud off them, Thakur mounted his horse in a raging fury, ready to look for Gabbar.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

Almost as time-consuming were the sequences of Radha extinguishing the lamps while Jai played his harmonica and watched. These sequences establish the gradual, wordless bonding between the widow and the thief - the sympathy and admiration slowly turning into love. Capturing the right mood was critical. These were two sequences, only about a minute each in the final film, and it took twenty days to shoot them. Ramesh and Divecha decided to do the scenes in 'magic hour', a cinema term for the time between sunset and night. The light that falls during magic hour is dreamlike in its warm golden hue. The director and cinemtograher wanted specifically the velvety dusk which arrives at the tail end of the golden hue. A shadowy darkness precedes nightfall, but it is still light enough to show the surrounding sillhouettes. Essentially, they had only a few minutes to capture the shot.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

The preparations for the shot would begin after lunch. The lights and the camera set-up would be in place well before time. At around five in the evening they would rehearse the shot and the camera movements.Then between six and six-thirty as the sun started to set, there was total pandemonium. Everyone ran around shouting, trying to get the shot before darkness. sometimes they would get one shot, sometimes two and very rarely with great difficulty, a third re-take. But there was never any time to change the set-up. Ramesh wouldn't settle for anything less than perfection. Invariably there was always some mess-up. The sun set earlier than expected, a lightman made a mistake, the trolly movement wasn't right, some object was lying where it shouldn't have been. There were times when Jaya lost her cool: 'Ramesh, no one can see me,' she would say. 'It's a long shot, no viewer on the planet is going to be able to see the mistakes in continuity.' The answer always was: 'No, no, one more take.' Ramesh dressed each frame. The Lady-of-the-lamps shot became a kind of a joke. It took several schedules to get it right.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"

In fact, in terms of time taken, each sequence seemed to compete with the next. Ahmed, the blind Imam's son (played by Sachin), for instance, took seventeen days to die. It was a long and complicated sequence, and originally it also included the actual act of killing: meat is roasting in the foreground; Gabbar points a red-hot skewer at the boy and with a gleeful look tells his gang, 'Isko to bahut tadpa tadpa ke maroonga.' But this never made it to the final cut. Instead, the scene cuts from Gabbar killing an ant to Ahmed's horse carrying his dead body into the village.

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YESTERYEAR CINEMA: "SHOLAY"



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