Amitabh Bachchan film festival: Best way to ring in the superstar’s 80th birthday

Rakhee and Amitabh Bachchan in a still from the film Kabhi Kabhie (1976)

Who books a theatre with 75 seats for a decades-old Amitabh Bachchan film? Bet your bottom dollar that more people will want to watch Kabhie Kabhie (1976) on the big screen than watch any new romance with any of today’s stars!

Amitabh Bachchan in a song sequence from the film Chupke Chupke (1975)" width="258" height="258" /> Dharmendra and Amitabh Bachchan in a song sequence from the film Chupke Chupke (1975)

That said, I elbowed my way into the hall and watched Chupke Chupke (1975) on the big screen. And as they say in Hindi, "Dil became garden garden!" to watch this comedy, in which Amitabh Bachchan and Dharmendra perform the magical Saregama masarega, gasarema, magaresa while twinning! I laughed out loudly as Sharmila Tagore does in the film. I also realised that everyone in the audience was doing the same. Whistling and clapping.

Abhimaan (1973). That one movie which explored a theme that is still relevant today: If both husband and wife are in the same business, and the wife turns out to be more successful, who should step back?

I realised that I was not the only sobbing silently when watching the film unfold in front of me. I had put my hand into my neighbour’s samosa pack and had stuffed my face to stifle my emotions from escaping out of my mouth as a sound. Thankfully, they, too, were crying into their popcorn and had not noticed this act, however, they were surprised when I bought one and offered it to them. "Only an AB fan will share!" was their comment, and I kept quiet from endorsing such a view. After all, I’d had a never-ending conversation with the customer-service guys not long before and fought my way into the theatre.

Shashi Kapoor, Nirupa Roy and Amitabh Bachchan in a still from Deewaar (1975)

Friends who watched Deewaar (1975) took screenshots of the film credits and reported that the theatre had no elbow room. I am sure if there is an Amitabh Bachchan retrospective section at the Mumbai International Film Festival, I would pay to get into movies like Saudagar, Parwana, Parvarish, Kaala Patthar and more. Should OTT platform selectors want to show the films, I know people who would subscribe and watch and re-watch these films.

"How did they persuade the three superstars to work in a film that ran parallel to their real lives?"

"How did Sanjeev Kumar not get a larger role?"

"I hate such regressive 'pativrata nari' type roles made for women!"

"Why are women shown to suffer so much in these old movies?"

Jaya Bhaduri and Amitabh Bachchan in a still from Abhimaan (1973)

After watching Kabhie Kabhie on the big screen, I should have just gone home, but then the weather Gods were bawling at the possibilities in love that the movie suggested. My coffee was diluted with tears, and I shared a table with some young man who was also brooding after the film, because heartbreaks can sneak up on you unbeknownst. It was good to see that a film made in 1976 (I was too young to be allowed to get into a movie theatre back then) was still generating a discussion that included a comment: It wasn’t like they had married for love… If I had to choose duty or love, I would choose love, wouldn’t you?

The rains had stopped and I realised I had experienced the madness that moviegoers must have experienced when they watched these films in the theatre at some time. The elbowing to get to the seat (it wasn’t free seating like at the film fest), the initial groans because the seat in row one really gives you a crick in your neck, followed by relief because you can stretch your legs!

And yes, my last question to storytellers everywhere: Why are we not making movies where we have scenes where we make Bindu — the eternal seductress — sitting in an audience realising that she is witnessing real love and real regret.

I come away from the festival, still upset for not having scored the tickets to other films, connecting with an all-time-favourite song from a movie they showed in the mini film fest: Badi sooni sooni hai from Mili (1975).