Hindi cinema has a long history of unacknowledged adaptations, particularly of the British novel. ANANYA BORGOHAIN attempts to map how Hindi cinema has visually reinterpreted the written word — both successfully and unsuccessfully — and how in the Indian context, they are presented with reimagined ‘realities’
George Bluestone, a pioneer in cinema studies, had remarked “Between the percept of the visual image and the concept of the mental image lies the root difference between the two media”. He had significantly explored the essential differences between the way images are produced and how they are received, in his work Novels into Film. Towards the end of the 19th century in particular, there was a shift from ‘telling’ to ‘showing’ and the visual medium started attaining prominence. literary figures such as Flaubert and James Joyce too in their narratives preferred the visual medium and stressed on images, as Alan Spiegel had observed in his Fiction and the Camera Eye.
Erich von Stroheim’s film adaptation of Frank Norris’s McTeague, Greed, ended up being 9½ hours long. It was cut to around two hours by the studio without updating Stroheim; what followed was an incomprehensive attempt at manifesting literary attributes on the screen. This reminds one of Sergei Eisenstein’s essay on Dickens, where he argues that films adapt novels peripherally and they struggle when it comes to the the modern novel and ‘any fiction that has internal monologue or, worse, stream of consciousness’. This could be particularly true of Hindi cinema, which has indulged in film adaptations of literary works for decades. Unfortunately, Hindi cinema, although it finds itself under a global gaze, has propagated a legacy of illegitimate cinematic adaptations. It has a long history of unacknowledged adaptations of literary works, until recently when some filmmakers have officially started to reveal their sources of inspiration and even buy their rights to the same. The overlapping dynamics among the text, the visual medium, the conflict between the socio-cultural setup of the original work and that of the culture being adapted to, and external pressing concerns such as copyrights, finance and promotions, have constructed unrest about Indian cinema’s ‘real’ origins and authenticity.
India is the largest producer of films in the world and its regional films in particular have, time and again, adapted major Indian literary works, particularly the novel form. To cite one of the innumerable examples, Saratchandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas, has been adapted in Bengali, Urdu, Tamil, Malayalam, Assamese, Telugu, Hindi and many more regional cinemas. All of Chetan Bhagat’s books have been adapted onscreen (his last book in the process of being adapted), so much so that the author now writes novels as if they are screenplays. Even the small screen has adapted classics like Saraswatichandra and Gunahon ka Devta, among others. But what is relatively unknown is that Hindi cinema has made earnest efforts in taking inspiration from the British novel for several years, much before the trend of adapting Shakespearean plays started. Having said that, one of the earliest film adaptations has been that of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, the silent film Dil Farosh (1927), produced by the Excelsior Film Company and directed by Udvadia. Then came Zalim Saudagar, another adaptation of the play, in 1941. It was directed by JJ Madan and starred Khalil, Kajjan, Rani Premlata, and Haider Bandi in the lead roles. Produced by the Radha Film Company of Calcutta, unfortunately, the film has only a few existing copies today.
Unsuccessful bid to Indianise British novels
But talking strictly about the British novel, in 1966, Emily Brontë’s distinguished novel Wuthering Heights was adapted into a Hindi film titled Dil Diya Dard liya. The film was jointly directed by Abdul Rashid Kardar and Dilip Kumar and starred Kumar and Waheeda Rehman. However, the film was melodramatic and exaggerated the poignancy of its original source. locating it within the social context of its time, it concentrated on failed romance that redeems itself in the end when the orphan hero climbs up the social ladder, avenges himself against the villain (Pran) and wins his ladylove back. Of course, that’s a far cry from the climax of Wuthering Heights. The core theme of the novel is anchored by its setting, the Yorkshire moors in the 18th century. The moors penetrate each of the characters at some point in the novel; as lockwood observes them as a “misanthropist’s heaven”. The relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff too is not only doomed to a sordid existence but is also attached to a mode of self-destruction for both of them. Irreversible fate and class divisions push them into a vortex of discord and disharmony. The essential theme of Wuthering Heights, is incompleteness. It’s a perverse world populated by bleak, self-consuming passion, more gothic than romantic. But Dil Diya Dard liya, on the other hand, seeks to invert the dynamics, restoring peace in the dysfunctional world of the protagonist, and in the process bludgeons Brontë’s classic. The doctrine of enamouring the beloved and winning love against all odds serves as the canonical marker of masculinity in Hindi cinema, failing which the failed sense of masculinity has to be necessarily avenged. And in order to live up to this ‘Indian’ expectation probably, Dil Diya Dard liya, had to divorce itself from Wuthering Heights.
AJ Cronin’s The Citadel was a groundbreaking novel revolving around the theme of medical ethics. It was also adapted in Hindi (Tere Mere Sapne) by Vijay Anand in 1971 with Dev Anand and Mumtaz in the lead roles. In 1972 it was made as a Bengali film, Jiban Saikate, starring Soumitra Chatterjee and Aparna Sen. In 1982 again, it was adapted in Telugu and titled Madhura Swapnam starring Krishnam Raju, Jayasudha, and Jaya Prada. Tere Mere Sapne interrogated the consequences when a doctor decides to compromise his ideals in favour of money. Though from an older era, the film was realistic and maturely handled the issues it raised and led to insights into the driving forces that blur the line of distinction between passion and obsession. The Citadel explored Cronin’s socio-political notions of the field of medicine; the book has also been acknowledged with initiating the creation of the National Health Service, United Kingdom. Tere Mere Sapne, fortunately, grips the core theme of the novel and respectfully sustains it with grace; although more than being socio-political, it travels around the nuances of the family being the most pertinent unit.
In 1973 again, Yash Chopra’s debuted as an independent producer, and the film that brought him the title of ‘King of Romance’ for the first time was Daag: A Poem of love with Rajesh Khanna, Sharmila Tagore and Rakhee in the lead roles. This film too was inspired by Thomas Hardy’s classic novel The Mayor of Casterbridge. It was remade in Telugu as Vichitra Jeevitham with A Nageshwara Rao, Vaneshree and Jayasudha, and was very well received.
The Mayor of Casterbridge told the story of Michael Henchard who auctions his wife Susan and their newborn daughter Elizabeth-Jane to a sailor for five guineas in an inebriated state, and then how he repents the same the next day when he comes to his sober senses, unable to find them back. Daag, however, manages to make only ostensible parallels with the novel. In the film, Sunil Kohli (Rajesh Khanna) ends up killing his employer’s son Dheeraj (Prem Chopra) who attempts to rape his wife Sonia (Sharmila Tagore). Through a twist of fate, he manages to escape the clutches of imprisonment and starts life afresh. And like in the novel, the male protagonist finds companionship in another woman who enters as a benefactor and he in turn provides her with social security and reputation. Both in the novel and the film, the protagonist has to separate from his wife and move on with another woman, but faces charges of bigamy.
Unexpectedly, Daag was a boisterous success; not only it had a larger than life megastar like Rajesh Khanna but Akhtar-ul-Imaan’s dialogues were met with unparalleled admiration. The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886) was set in the fictional town of Casterbridge (based on the town of Dorchester in Dorset) and was one of Hardy’s Wessex novels, all set in a fictional rural England. As usual, Hindi cinema denied Hardy the credits for this adaptation and Gulshan Nanda is said to be the writer of Daag; back in the day, Nanda was a popular writer of pulp romances, particularly in 1960s and mid-70s.
Shyam Benegal’s Junoon that way was a breath of fresh air. Though not based on a British novel, it was one of the few Hindi films which acknowledge their sources and was based Ruskin Bond’s A Flight of Pigeons. It had an ensemble cast of stellar performers and a grand political theme very justifiably executed by geniuses like Benegal and Govind Nihalani. The Flight of Pigeons was the story of the struggles faced by an English family during the Indian war of independence of 1857, in Shahjahanpur. It was told from the perspective of Ruth, the young daughter of an English officer, who witnessed the murder of her father by an aggressive communal mob during the mutiny. However, Benegal infused his own reworked ideas and presented a very different perspective and texture to the novella. Unlike the book, which centres on communal conflict, the film expands its horizons and in Benegal’s style of filmmaking, makes some hard-hitting political statements. The mutiny is also projected in a vastly encouraging fashion; something that anglo-Indian Bond does not seem too upbeat about in his book. And the atrocities that the British Raj committed on the helpless Indians are brought out emphatically. Moreover, Bond denounced the brutality unleashed on Ruth’s family but the film empathises with the hostility of the rebels. While this film highlights the cultural and political conflict between the textual source and its cinematic interpretation, Junoon still remains an asset that elicited the best out of Hindi film adaptations.
Yash Chopra’s Kaala Patthar (1979) starring Amitabh Bachchan too had reminiscence of Joseph Conrad’s lord Jim where protagonist Vijay, a merchant navy captain ostracised by society, has to redeem himself after abandoning his ship, risking the lives of 300 people on board. Vijay then starts working as a coal miner to escape his ‘coward’ past.
Shakespeare resonates with Indian audience
But the adaptations were not confined only to the novel form or to dramas. Gulzar’s comic masterpiece Angoor (1982) would substantiate the same. It is another incredible adaptation, but again, it does not acknowledge its inspiration, Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors. In fact, in 1968, he had written another script based on the play, which was adapted on screen by Debu Sen, and titled Do Dooni Chaar, which starred Kishore Kumar. Do Dooni Chaar had bombed at the box office. And then a little more than a decade later came Angoor and redeemed the disconsolate spirits of Gulzar. It was about a pair of identical twins separated in childhood, who meet as grown-ups. And what unleashes then is a laugh riot caused by mistaken identities.
The Comedy of Errors was one of Shakespeare’s Pure Comedies, more so with reference to its logical developments. It was purely situational and highlighted one’s vulnerability in the face of external action. It stressed that human beings are controlled by chance and we are more dependent on wit rather than will. Angoor tapped into this rhythm and till date, it is fondly remembered as one of the wittiest Hindi films. Until Angoor released, the Hindi comic film was an underhyped medium and this film changed that pattern for good.
The earliest outlines of Bombay cinema was incepted through a body of work on romantic love. Himanshu Rai’s Karma (1933), for instance, is one of the most primitive love stories in Hindi (or rather Indian) cinema. This oriental love story is also famous for its European associations as well as for entailing the first and whatsoever longest kissing scene in Indian film history. But as time progressed and we moved into the 1990s, the Hindi film industry came to be known as ‘Bollywood’ and its trademarks were its larger-than-life love stories and the song and dance routine where the hero and heroine woo each other with dozens of dancers in the background, often wearing identical outfits. Within this context, one of the most adapted literary works in Bollywood is Shakespeare’s tragedy, Romeo and Juliet.
Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, for instance, rode on the clash between a pseudo-feudal landscape and the economic liberalisation of the late 1980s. If the 1970s negated the West and sought refuge in the emergence of the desi angry young man fighting against the Indian governmental, moral and societal corruption, the ‘90s targeted the proliferating Indian middle class and the diasporic Indian audiences, gravitating towards the emergence of the modern romantic couple, the patriotic NRI, and the metrosexual hero in films like Maine Pyaar Kiya, Dilwale Dulhaniya le Jayenge, Kal Ho Naa Ho etc. Akele Hum Akele Tum, for instance, (1995) was inspired by Avery Corman’s Kramer vs Kramer. This film about an estranged couple’s fight for the custody of their child highlighted an important cultural shift in India, where the joint family system had broken up and notions of motherhood and fatherhood were reimagined as the working woman had emerged out of it.
Within this structure, Romeo and Juliet’s context continues to feed the consumerist fantasies of the Indian middle-class world and lifestyle. The tragedy has been adapted several times in Bollywood: Ek Duuje Ke liye, Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, Saudaagar, Ishaqzaade, Isaaq, Goliyon Ki Raasleela Ram-leela. It is nothing but a sad social comment that a tragedy where two lovers crumble in the face of violence and class division in 16th century still finds a vibrant Indian pulse in its contemporary visual interpretations.
Vishal Bhardwaj’s trilogy — Maqbool (Macbeth), Omkara (Othello), and Haider (Hamlet) — too is what roots Shakespeare in the native consciousness. Bhardwaj has also adapted Ruskin Bond in The Blue Umbrella and Saat Khoon Maaf but it is still Shakespeare that strikes a chord with the Indian cinemagoer. Naseeruddin Shah had once said, “Every big story in Hindi films is inspired by Shakespeare in some way.” Even lesser known films like Sharad Katariya’s 10ml love is based on A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Drawing inspiration from other literatures
Other than English literary texts, Bollywood has also taken inspiration from other literatures. Sanjay leela Bhansali’s brand of filmmaking has significantly highlighted his fondness of Russian formalism, more prominently through the vibes one got from his films like Black and Saawariya. Not surprisingly, therefore, Saawariya is based on Dostoevsky’s short story, White Nights. Saawariya was a visual treat and for anyone who understands the medium, the film was an excellent source for film studies. Along with Russian formalism, the film also exhibited post-impressionism. In the film, lillianji’s son’s name is Vincent, ostensibly after the most famous post-impressionist painter, Vincent Van Gogh. Van Gogh’s masterpiece ‘Café Terrace At Night’ was constantly evoked throughout the film. The unique setting of Saawariya was around cafes, including the flooring in the town which was exactly like in the painting. The art direction and setting of the film was European as well, where post impressionism was derived from. Post impressionistic artists expressed themselves through hidden contexts and layers of subtlety. There were also references to Cinderella when Sakina (Sonam Kapoor) has to run when the clock strikes 12, and also when she has to dust the carpets and the dust blows out of them, reminding one of Cinderella when Ella has her face covered with cinders in the fairy tale. Unfortunately, for the Indian audience, this important and effective adaptation did not make sense and the film had commercially bombed.
Another non-British work, O Henry’s The last leaf, was more recently adapted in the Hindi film lootera. Director Vikramaditya Motwane wanted to make a semi-tragic love story like in The last leaf in which the sadness of the love story also leaves a smile on the face of the viewer. In an interview, he had said, “Adapting a book is the most difficult thing because half the time you are wondering what to remove. Here, we had to add to it and work on a complete backstory. I tried to do a modern-day adaptation but it didn’t work. You are talking of two people who come together and are then forced apart and in today’s day and age with cellphones and Facebook, how far apart can you actually beIJ”
Film adaptations have thus been a continued norm in the Hindi film industry. While there are innumerable Indian works that have been adapted — Raajneeti (Mahabharata), Hum Saath Saath Hai (Ramayana), Parineeta, Pinjar, Shatranj ke Khiladi, Guide and Umrao Jaan from classics of the same name, Hazaar Chaurasi ki Maa (Hajar Churashir Maa) Sahib, Bibi Aur Ghulam (Shehab, Bibi Aur Golam), Black Friday (Black Friday) etc to name only a few — there have also been Indian inspirations for Hollywood projects such as The Namesake, The Mistress of Spices, Slumdog Millionaire, life of Pi etc.
Contemporaneity was an important feature of the British novel. Characters and events turned understandable and were presented in accordance with the social ranks of the readers and not the Kings and Queens, which made the form popular. In the Indian context, they are further romanticised and the drama heightened. Music of the film is very crucial to the industry till this day and it brings a firm sense of Indianness to the project. Unfortunately, copyright acts continue to be violated. Earlier this year, Jeffrey archer had said, “These bunch of thieves (Bollywood filmmakers) have stolen several of my books without so much as a ‘by your leave’”, citing the examples of the 1987 film Khudgarz based on his 1979 work Kane and Abel and ladies Vs Ricky Bahl inspired by his Not A Penny More, Not A Penny less (1976).
Anna Karenina has multiple adaptations — Russian, American, Hungarian, Egyptian and so on. So does Devdas, as mentioned earlier. What thus makes adaptations pertinent is that they lay the basis to study the social, cultural and linguistic reconfigurations which occur when the work is adapted in different languages, something we see when Scottish General Macbeth turns into Mumbai’s Muslim gangster Maqbool. Semiotics — linguistic, cinematic or even religious — unfold, which function when varied versions of the same work are put forth. Adaptations help situating imagination in regionalised as well as individualised context, within parameters of both creativity and originality. They also attempt to locate the significant shifts in the literary genres which happen when several versions of the same work are thus produced. Both the market-driven forces and psychological factors that influence a culture decide the status of literary classics among the Indian audience.
Another intriguing factor is when an outsider adapts an Indian classic. For example, when Peter Brook adapts Mahabharata, or when Anurag Kashyap turns Devdas completely into a North-Indian Oxford returned youth who eschews modern decay and consumerism. The trend of adaptations is here to stay. What remains to be seen is whether the Indian audience is ready to read between the lines.
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