WHEN I picked up Bollywood Baddies: Villains, Vamps, and Henchmen in Hindi Cinema by Tapan K. Ghosh, I was expecting to be enthralled. After all, myriads of fascinating villains have played pivotal roles throughout the history of Hindi films. A book on them, therefore, held much promise.

Let me first look at what the book could have been. Ghosh could have charted the evolution of the villains — how they once commanded as much screen-time as the hero and why their prominence has faded over the last few decades given the increase in romantic comedies which have taken centre-stage of late.

He could have highlighted the more prominent villains who have made our flesh crawl over the decades — caricature-like individuals such as Kulbhushan Kharbanda in Shaan (remember those revolving chairs?) and Mogambo in Mr India (who can forget his immortal tagline?), the suave ones such as Pran in Madhumati and Bluff Master and Anupam Kher in Lootere, and the lecherous ones such as the serial rapist Prem Chopra in legions of films.

Or he could have quoted the memorable lines that villains have spouted with zest over the years: Amjad Khan’s “Kitney aadmi thai?,” Prem Chopra’s “Prem naam hai mera,” Ajit’s “Saara shehar mujhe Lion ke naam se jaanta hai,” and Amrish Puri’s “Jab bhi me koi hasin titli dekhta hoon, mere ander ke sainkado kutte bhokne lagte hain.”

Unfortunately, Ghosh doesn’t take any of these approaches. Instead, he opts for a half-baked, socio-political and textbook-like approach to the villains in Bollywood Baddies. While a significant amount of research has clearly gone into the writing of the book, it is unfortunately a bit of a drag to get through. And very importantly, there aren’t many convincing anecdotes to support the theories. Take, for example, the following excerpt from the first chapter, ‘Who Are These Villains?’: “The villains in Bollywood cinema both prior to Independence and after offer a valuable case study for identifying the social, economic, and political faces of India as the country progressed over the decades. If the country stuttered in the ’30s and ’40s, the villains did much the same … In the ’50s, down the decade in particular, there was a feeling of discontent about the implementation of the policies of Jawaharlal Nehru’s socialist agenda. The ’60s witnessed changes in social hierarchy, making it difficult for people to accept traditional values. This was also the time of the uprising of backward classes. The opposition parties in politics were gaining strength, questioning the Congress hegemony which was reeling with discontent. This led to the division of the Congress down the ’60s, and again, later also. The era showed how the villains during the ’60s started operating from cities — a feature that signalled emphatically the villain’s location shifting from the rural to the urban.”

Although this is an interesting analysis of the development of villains in Indian films, it would have carried more weight if Ghosh had used examples to prove his arguments. The chapter on vamps is perhaps the best. It begins well enough as it cites the examples of Nadira, Lalita Pawar and Shashikala who portrayed vamps to perfection in the 1940s and ’50s. However, the narrative then skips abruptly to the 1990s where it describes Aruna Irani’s role in Beta. It would have made more sense to mention her earlier roles in the ’70s, in films such as Mili, to name just one.

Other notable vamps have also been ignored or just been given a cursory mention, such as Manorama, Bindu and Helen. This chapter, which could have been much more interesting, lacks depth as well as analysis of the factors that led to the creation of the vamp in the first place (was it because the public couldn’t see beloved ‘virginal’ heroines such as Meena Kumari and Madhubala in sexy outfits?) and its demise in films.

Similarly, the profiles of the actors who portrayed villains and their sidekicks are lacklustre and do not contain much new information; they are bitty filmographies. Although to give credit where it is due, they do highlight actors who we have seen numerous times in films but whose names we may not know.

There are also a few factual errors in the book such as referring to the Sunny Deol-Sridevi starrer Nigahen as ‘Nagina’. At best, Bollywood Baddies can be described as informative, and at worst, vapid. Which is a pity really, given how amazing it could have been. To paraphrase the immortal lines of Amrish Puri in Mr India, “Mogambo khush nahi hua!”

The reviewer is a Dawn staffer


Bollywood Baddies: Villains, Vamps, and Henchmen in Hindi Cinema

(FILM)

By Tapan K. Ghosh

Sage Publications, UK

ISBN 9788132110972

232pp.

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