Le vagabond

I have always like watching movies. However, as time went by, I have only known of Hollywood, European, Japanese, and Filipino cinema.

When I learned that Awara is one of Time Magazine's Top 100, I got a copy. The movie called my attention because I haven't seen a Bollywood movie.

I watched Awara, and I was entertained. All the genre you can think of, you'll find it there. Name it: melodrama, action, comedy, romance, music, fantasy. Raj Kapoor craftily weaved them in the almost three hour-long classic.

Behind the melodrama is the social commentary. The conflict between a person versus the orthodox beliefs of the milieu is a recurring theme each of us face in everyday life. Pressures to adhere to the norm led the main character to his plight. Children growing up in squalid areas is an important issue tackled.

The musical sequences showed the movie's multi-faceted nature. It showed references to Chaplin, Rodgers/Hammerstein, and the like. Particularly amazing is the dream sequence in an east meets west setting. Elements of Hindu-Buddhist mythology are mingled with those of ancient Greco-Roman.

The eclectic experience solidified my belief that Bollywood is indeed a pillar of world cinema. I look forward to watching more.

I saw it as a kid, sometime in 1957 or 1958. I was marveled and for a long time the movie remained in my heart. I was humming the Awaara Hum all the time, I was imagining myself as Raj, I was thinking at Rita. I started to consider myself a grown up: after all also Raj started in the movie as a kid and became a grown up. I knew now his songs, I knew so all I needed to be a grown up.

Well, I was a kid; it seems that also grown ups were in love with Awara; someone told me of a respectable physician who had been seen hanging around and humming Awaara Hum.

And this was what was happening those times in Romania. And in Bulgaria. And in the Soviet Union. And in Turkey. Kids and grown ups were humming the songs, imagining themselves as Raj, unconditionally in love for Rita, kids considering themselves grown ups, grown ups behaving like kids.

The life of this movie was becoming a legend.

I watched again the movie, a couple of days ago, on TV. Of course it gave me an immense pleasure and I began (jokingly this time, while clearly happy) to sing Awaara Hum again.

Did I notice this time something that I had missed years ago? Well, this time I was able to examine the fascination conveyed by this movie, surrounding this movie. I was able to examine it, as I was now detached; long time ago I had been immersed in the fascinating universe of Awara.

I was able this time to observe that the fascination was not coming from the plot; it was from somewhere beyond. The actor playing the father of Raj was also in real life the father of Raj Kapoor. The same with the actor playing Raj as kid: he was the brother of Raj Kapoor. As for Nargis, the great actress playing Rita, she was in real life the great love of Raj Kapoor. And all the rest of the cast was infused with the chemistry among these guys: their reciprocal chemistry, their chemistry for the cinematic art.

I think at the secret of this movie: it has a secret, no doubt about. You see, in 1949 the Japanese Ozu had created Late Spring, followed by Early Summer in 1951, the same year Raj Kapoor created Awara; I consider Ozu one of the greatest masters of cinema; in 1956 the Indian Satyajit Ray would create Pather Panchali, which is maybe one of the most profound movies of all times; followed by Aparajito and then by The World of Apu. Well, Awara stands, courageously, in my preferences among the movies of these titans, and this because it has a secret of his own.

Many noted the Chaplinesque dimension of the tramp created by Raj Kapoor in Awara. And clearly Kapoor had Charlot in his mind: the same humorous courage to stand against all odds. But, it's not only Charlot in Awara; you feel there also the air of films noirs, while the romance, saturated with music, has a surrealist poetry.

And maybe here is where the secret lies: this movie was created with the pleasure for creating cinema; with the passion to succeed in bringing on the screen a perfectly popular movie. If you want to understand what Bollywood means, you should see this movie from 1951. A movie openly looking for popularity because made by someone in love for the people, someone loving to tell stories to enjoy the attendance. Awara has a clear social message, but, as someone has very well observed, it is not a popular movie made to convey the message, rather the opposite: the message serves to convey a popular movie.

in the East of Europe, under the Comunist regime, the Indian films have had a special status. as alternative to the Soviet movies and propaganda shows. but, in same measure, for the social message. clear . for romanticism and music and charm of actors and dramatic situations. but Awaara was more than a successful Indian film. it was, and remains, an epic. because it gives the right perspective about ordinary, every day situations. because it reminds the joy of life and the deep pain.because it is , like the childhood fairy tales, story of courage and self determination and love difficulties , sacrifice and happiness. because it is nice and bitter and translation in image of known situations. and, sure, for Raj Kapoor. in the East , the Indian film was an open window. Awaara was, for years, one of the most convincing examples.

This movie is itself a legend. In 1988 TRT (Turkish national television) was to show that film. As I was a little child I could not now about the movies but that day my mother, grandmother, my uncles wife all got together and prepared delicious foods, and watched that movie on TV. Perhabs on that day all women in Turkiye were watching that film.

Mavi Boncuk, a delicious movie has reference to this film. On that movie Munir Ozkul says: - Aaah Awaara (at the time he looks to Awaara's poster) I've grown my children by selling it's tickets, played for 6 months on those days.

It is a fact that Awaara was a great success, on those days a film was playing for only a week but Awaara was in vision for 6 great months. I only remembered a scene from the film I watched when I was 6 years old, this is the scene that Raju stole a watch. Then 3 years ago I bought this film and watched with friends, my friends were very impressed with the movie, and we watched again and again.

Awaara is a milestone for Turkish cinema, it is filmed again by great Turkish actor Sadri Alisik in 1966. Arabesk is stated to enter Turkiye with Awaara. Adalet Cimcoz and Ferdi Tayfur spoke Nargis and Raj Kapoor in Awaara's Turkish dubbing version and film is great with that excellent dubbing.

Films song is also sung in Turkish lyrics by Sadri Alisik and song was also a hit.

Musicals in America in their heyday were mostly about the lives of prominent show business personalities or small town middle class Americana, never about the outcast or the urban slum dweller. This is not the case with the films of Indian director, Raj Kapoor, especially in Awaara, a 1951 film and the later Boot Polish. These films call attention to the less fortunate and, in the case of Awaara, the vagabond whose life of crime is the inevitable outcome of growing up in the slums.

In Awaara, Kapoor's real father (Prithviraj Kapoor) plays a heartless judge who accuses his pregnant wife (Leela Chitnis) of infidelity after she was kidnapped by bandits and throws her out of his home (the logic of this eludes me since she was already pregnant when kidnapped). The stern judge staunchly believes that a thief's son will always be a thief and a good man's son will always turn out good. In a series of flashbacks, the film dramatizes the unfortunate consequences of this belief system. Raju, played by the director Raj Kapoor as an adult and by his brother Sashi Kapoor as a child, is born on the streets and grows up in the slums.

Under the guidance of a ruthless bandit named Jagga (K. N. Singh), he turns to stealing to help support his mother. Raj has little to comfort him except for a picture hanging on the bare walls of his house of Rita, his childhood sweetheart played by the stunning Nargis, a real life lover of Kapoor. The romance between Raj and Rita is one of the central motifs of the film and the chemistry between the two is electric. This is especially evident in the boat scene where she performs an exotic dance to the Dum Bhar song, and after she calls him a junglee (savage) and he slaps her in an incident that serves to bring them closer together.

Raju, the tramp, is forced to live on his wits but does so with humor and a Chaplinesque charm. When he finds out the true circumstances of his childhood, however, he sets out to get revenge against his father, the judge, and ends up facing a charge of attempted murder in the judge's own courtroom. Rita, a lawyer herself, defends him as she promised she would years ago. She puts the judge on the witness stand and asks pointed questions about how he condemned his wife and child to a lifetime of poverty. Rita holds him and society responsible for the conditions that led Raju to commit his crime and asks the judge to forgive him and admit that Raju is his son. Raju, in turn, offers an impassioned plea to the court to punish him as a criminal but not to neglect the conditions that gave rise to his life of crime. In the end, a very moving scene of attempted reconciliation between father and son had me wiping away the tears.

Awaara is reminiscent of both 40s film-noir with its dark cobblestone streets and menacing shadows and, in its social conscience, of the great Italian neo-realists like de Sica. But basically, Awaara is still in the Bollywood tradition; that means drama, romance, music, comedy, and action -- all put together in a total package to appeal to a wide audience. With great songs and dances, amazing dream sequences, style and panache, strong drama, and an inspiring message, it is not surprising that Awaara became one of the most popular films in Indian cinematic history. It is one of my favorites as well.