1982. A good year. The oil crisis had come and gone. Pesky environmental scientists had not yet pointed out that we were busy slow baking the planet. There were some ups and downs. The atrocity known as the Fox body Mustang had been unleashed on an unsuspecting public. However, in compensation, the DeLorean DMC12 had also been built. A few scant years later, Doc Brown and Marty McFly would use the flux capacitor and the magic speed of 88 mph to go to a better place (time). The Berlin Wall was still standing, the CIA was busy supplying Stingers to Afghan Mujahiddeen to blow up Soviet Mi24 choppers and the sense of irony had not been rediscovered. (It is not well known, but the last great practitioner of irony was, of course Oscar Wilde)
Anyway, coming to the subcontinent. A genius called Bappi Lahiri was hired to write the music for a fillum called Disco Dancer. This man would never again repeat what he did with this fillum. He would eventually lose all semblance of a neck and replace it with uncountably numerous chins and enough bling to blind even Mr. T. The actor selected to play the title role was Mithun Chakraborty - plucked from the obscurity of art-house cinema (critically acclaimed, but still obscure).
Mithun brought something refreshingly different. From his bare upper lip (remember, this was before mustaches were deregulated by the UN - this was the era of Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds in their bewhiskered glory), to his abs strategically revealed by bejewelled spandex (yes, this was the first Hindi fillum where the protagonist had defineable abs) - Mithun was a veritable dance-dance revolution.
And then there is the title song. I went back and saw the viddy today. At that time, song and dance routines in Hindi fillums had evolved from the run-around-trees-in-a-wet-sari to what were called 'charity shows' where someone like Salma Aga would sing her heart (and life) out. I didn't understand - where was the charity going? Does Bono do charity shows? Anyhoo, Mithun dances with a troupe of some very fit dames. And dances - doesn't just waddle around like RajKumar (yes I went there, bring it 'Digas). There are electric guitars. There is a big band orchestra. There is a wee girlie keeping time by strumming her fingers on the completely bald head of someone who looks like her Grandpa. But this must be a really chillaxed Gramps, not a lecherous one - look how caught up in the moment he is! And then the other wee girlie (10 years- ish, methinks) dressed in a purple smock who is dancing completely out of sync on her chair. Being egged on by her moms. (Inner voice - something doesn't add up). And finally, Mithun asks a girl if she knows what is 'jawani'. She giggles that she doesn't - and somehow this drives all the uncles and aunties in the audience wild.
Then the other show drops. That audience. Sure, there are some people in their early twenties, some high school kids, some college go-ers. But there are also 4 year olds. And grandparents. And realization dawns. Disco Dancer is not really a fillum about a bloke who can sing and dance. It does much deeper. This reflects an India in 1982, where
Anyway, coming to the subcontinent. A genius called Bappi Lahiri was hired to write the music for a fillum called Disco Dancer. This man would never again repeat what he did with this fillum. He would eventually lose all semblance of a neck and replace it with uncountably numerous chins and enough bling to blind even Mr. T. The actor selected to play the title role was Mithun Chakraborty - plucked from the obscurity of art-house cinema (critically acclaimed, but still obscure).
Mithun brought something refreshingly different. From his bare upper lip (remember, this was before mustaches were deregulated by the UN - this was the era of Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds in their bewhiskered glory), to his abs strategically revealed by bejewelled spandex (yes, this was the first Hindi fillum where the protagonist had defineable abs) - Mithun was a veritable dance-dance revolution.
And then there is the title song. I went back and saw the viddy today. At that time, song and dance routines in Hindi fillums had evolved from the run-around-trees-in-a-wet-sari to what were called 'charity shows' where someone like Salma Aga would sing her heart (and life) out. I didn't understand - where was the charity going? Does Bono do charity shows? Anyhoo, Mithun dances with a troupe of some very fit dames. And dances - doesn't just waddle around like RajKumar (yes I went there, bring it 'Digas). There are electric guitars. There is a big band orchestra. There is a wee girlie keeping time by strumming her fingers on the completely bald head of someone who looks like her Grandpa. But this must be a really chillaxed Gramps, not a lecherous one - look how caught up in the moment he is! And then the other wee girlie (10 years- ish, methinks) dressed in a purple smock who is dancing completely out of sync on her chair. Being egged on by her moms. (Inner voice - something doesn't add up). And finally, Mithun asks a girl if she knows what is 'jawani'. She giggles that she doesn't - and somehow this drives all the uncles and aunties in the audience wild.
Then the other show drops. That audience. Sure, there are some people in their early twenties, some high school kids, some college go-ers. But there are also 4 year olds. And grandparents. And realization dawns. Disco Dancer is not really a fillum about a bloke who can sing and dance. It does much deeper. This reflects an India in 1982, where
- Disco exists (outside the Oberoi, that is)
- Disco concerts exist. This is a vomit-inducing contradiction, but there it is.
- People go to watch disco concerts with their whole joint family. Bring Papa, Mummy, Bunty, Babli, Daddu, Chunnu, Munnu and don't forget Tommy the dog.
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