"...when he looks at Beauty in the only way that Beauty can be seen - only then will it become possible for him to give birth not to images of virtue
, but to true virtue
" - Plato, "Symposium"
"Beauty is worse than wine; it intoxicates both the holder and beholder." - Aldous Huxley
It was some years back that my son presented me with a complimentary ticket for a special screening of this movie in Tokyo, in connection with some commemorative occasion which totally escapes me now, along with the venue. I had never heard of "Pakeezah," but I had recently returned from my first or second trip to India, and my enthusing about my impressions and experiences there had obviously prompted him to give me the ticket that had somehow come into his hands (he had no interest in going himself). As things turned out, I missed it. But I knew I had missed something special (I believe the ticket contained the word "legendary"), and so began what must've been about a decade of searching for it in the erstwhile video stores and today's DVD home delivery rental operations, all to absolutely no avail. You can imagine my joy when I finally found the whole thing available for viewing online, with English subtitles.
"Pakeezah" ("Pure Heart") is indeed special, but certainly not because of the story. It is an oft-told tale of an ill-starred woman, in this case a "tawaif" singer-dancer courtesan, who eventually finds happiness after a lifetime of hardship, through some incredible, i.e., non- credible, twists of fate. The plot is, frankly, ludicrous. The courtesan, or rather her mother (both roles played by Ashok Kumar), rarely appears out of her dancing costume or without makeup, even when wandering around a cemetery in the throes of death. Inconsistencies? It is hard to tell in what age the drama is set; its times seem at once medieval and modern. (I was puzzled when a well-heeled "nawab" patron stepped out of a horse-drawn carriage wearing sunglasses, but later learned that shades could very well have been around in the latter days of steam locomotives.) Ditto for the stage sets. There is something extremely unreal and artificial about every character, every incident, every room, every thing. And the vicissitudes of the narrative are predictable in their unpredictability.
But what "Pakeezah" has is beauty, and in an abundance that can be matched by few other movies. It is concentrated in its song-and-dance scenes, which are thankfully many. Director Kamal Amrohi was reportedly a perfectionist, and the dances in the classical "kathak" style were obviously the chief focuses for his practice of this predilection. They are truly "too much" - too rich, beautiful to an excessive degree. In creating them, he left nothing to chance or naturalness, and obsessively and meticulously put his hand to everything in them, meaning not only furnishings and appurtenances in interiors but also background scenery and activity out the window, and even the skies and heavenly bodies in them, which may actually be in flux during the number. Furthermore, the musical compositions are, without exception (as far as I am concerned), excellent works in themselves. Even in subtitles, the lovely, poetic lyrics of the songs (sung mainly by playback-singer godmother Lata Mangeshkar in her prime) accompanying the dances ring true and resonate in the heart with a genuineness of sentiment. In short, all the elements come together, perfectly, in displays of total cinematographic art that delight the eye, ear, heart, and mind. Charged with virtually palpable passion and desire to boot, the dance scenes are nothing less than intoxicating.
The reality of "Pakeeza" therefore lies in its dance vignettes, whose truth and beauty are only thrown into sharper relief by the unreality and mediocrity of much of the footage framing them. Their consummation in the film after 14 years' worth of trials and tribulations attests to the director's unswerving commitment to his aesthetics and conviction in their value. In this sense, his is the real "pakeezah."
Needless to say, a 10 for the dance scenes. (James Koetting)
"Beauty is worse than wine; it intoxicates both the holder and beholder." - Aldous Huxley
It was some years back that my son presented me with a complimentary ticket for a special screening of this movie in Tokyo, in connection with some commemorative occasion which totally escapes me now, along with the venue. I had never heard of "Pakeezah," but I had recently returned from my first or second trip to India, and my enthusing about my impressions and experiences there had obviously prompted him to give me the ticket that had somehow come into his hands (he had no interest in going himself). As things turned out, I missed it. But I knew I had missed something special (I believe the ticket contained the word "legendary"), and so began what must've been about a decade of searching for it in the erstwhile video stores and today's DVD home delivery rental operations, all to absolutely no avail. You can imagine my joy when I finally found the whole thing available for viewing online, with English subtitles.
"Pakeezah" ("Pure Heart") is indeed special, but certainly not because of the story. It is an oft-told tale of an ill-starred woman, in this case a "tawaif" singer-dancer courtesan, who eventually finds happiness after a lifetime of hardship, through some incredible, i.e., non- credible, twists of fate. The plot is, frankly, ludicrous. The courtesan, or rather her mother (both roles played by Ashok Kumar), rarely appears out of her dancing costume or without makeup, even when wandering around a cemetery in the throes of death. Inconsistencies? It is hard to tell in what age the drama is set; its times seem at once medieval and modern. (I was puzzled when a well-heeled "nawab" patron stepped out of a horse-drawn carriage wearing sunglasses, but later learned that shades could very well have been around in the latter days of steam locomotives.) Ditto for the stage sets. There is something extremely unreal and artificial about every character, every incident, every room, every thing. And the vicissitudes of the narrative are predictable in their unpredictability.
But what "Pakeezah" has is beauty, and in an abundance that can be matched by few other movies. It is concentrated in its song-and-dance scenes, which are thankfully many. Director Kamal Amrohi was reportedly a perfectionist, and the dances in the classical "kathak" style were obviously the chief focuses for his practice of this predilection. They are truly "too much" - too rich, beautiful to an excessive degree. In creating them, he left nothing to chance or naturalness, and obsessively and meticulously put his hand to everything in them, meaning not only furnishings and appurtenances in interiors but also background scenery and activity out the window, and even the skies and heavenly bodies in them, which may actually be in flux during the number. Furthermore, the musical compositions are, without exception (as far as I am concerned), excellent works in themselves. Even in subtitles, the lovely, poetic lyrics of the songs (sung mainly by playback-singer godmother Lata Mangeshkar in her prime) accompanying the dances ring true and resonate in the heart with a genuineness of sentiment. In short, all the elements come together, perfectly, in displays of total cinematographic art that delight the eye, ear, heart, and mind. Charged with virtually palpable passion and desire to boot, the dance scenes are nothing less than intoxicating.
The reality of "Pakeeza" therefore lies in its dance vignettes, whose truth and beauty are only thrown into sharper relief by the unreality and mediocrity of much of the footage framing them. Their consummation in the film after 14 years' worth of trials and tribulations attests to the director's unswerving commitment to his aesthetics and conviction in their value. In this sense, his is the real "pakeezah."
Needless to say, a 10 for the dance scenes. (James Koetting)