Synopsis
Sohan (Dev Anand), a police officer
in Bombay, assumes the identity of a small
time crook, Johny, to infiltrate a group
of smugglers headed by Rai Bhupinder Singh
(Premnath) who has his hideout somewhere
in Nepal. He befriends a smuggler called
Heera (Jeevan) inside a police station,
wins his trust and offers to reach diamonds
that he had smuggled from Hong Kong to a
certain address for a Rs 5,000. He then
stages his own escape, collects the tennis
racket that contains the diamonds worth
Rs 80 lakhs from the hotel where Heera had
put up and reaches them to another hotel
room where they are received by a beautiful
young woman Rekha (Hema Malini). He charms
his way into her confidence; Rekha offers
Johny Rs 10,000 to meet her at Nalanda and
help her reach the diamonds to Nepal. Johny
joins her in Nalanda and helps her to ‘hoodwink’
the cops by acting as her lover in the ruins
of Nalanda. They fly to Kathmandu from Patna
with the diamonds and reach them to Moti
(Pran) who works for Rai Bhupinder Singh.
Meanwhile Babu (Randhawa), a trusted gang
member is entrusted with the money fetched
from the sale of the diamonds to reach it
to Rai Bhupinder Singh at his hideout near
the Indian border. But Babu makes plans
to escape to Singapore with the money, along
with his girlfriend Tara (Padma Khanna)
and start a new life there. Johny gets to
know of it through a concealed microphone
and betrays them to Moti. Moti takes the
couple to Bhupinder Singh’s hideout
where the leader orders his men to shoot
Babu and then takes his girlfriend as his
mistress. Johny wins Moti’s trust
and replaces Babu in the hierarchy and gains
an important step towards reaching his goal,
that of locating the gang leader and breaking
the back bone of the gang. Throughout, he
is accompanied in his quest by the beautiful
Rekha who is none other than the daughter
of the so-called Bhupinder Singh, the kingpin.
But there is a catch: she herself has never
met her father since her childhood and her
entire purpose and role as a smuggler is
to reach her father and find out why did
he suddenly disappear from their lives 15
years ago in Lucknow? In the process Johny
and Rekha fall in love and after tumultuous
journey that takes them through dangerous
missions, it is revealed that Moti and Johny
are actually long lost brothers –
Mohan and Sohan, who were separated during
childhood…
The Film
Coming three years after Jewel
Thief (1967), this film reaffirms the
mastery of Vijay
Anand as an accomplished craftsman in
the annals of popular Hindi cinema and continues
many of the elements of the previous film
in terms of intricate plotting, themes and
style. Here, as in Jewel Thief,
the hero assumes different identities to
hoodwink the members of the group that he
infiltrates and like in the previous film,
for a considerable stretch of time even
the viewers are taken for a ride as to his
actual identity. If in the earlier film
Dev Anand
was subjected to shock treatments by the
villains to brainwash him into believing
that he is somebody else, in this film,
Dev Anand is beaten, albeit clumsily by
a gang member to find out if he is truly
what he claims to be – a crook, or
a pretender. A simple tale of hero’s
quest to reach his goal assumes complex
and sometimes confounding layers that keep
piling on till it pushes all the boundaries;
where could it go from here? But unlike
in the other film, in this film the director
continues to push the envelope still further
and the viewers are happily lost in a maze
that carries us from one crisis to another
through innovative plot twists and revelations
that keep us on tenterhooks.
 Just
when we begin to feel that the plot seems
to be losing its way in its complex labyrinth
and overbearing load, in an intricately
written and long-drawn-out climax played
out elaborately in a surefire misc-en-scene
inside Bhupinder Singh’s palatial
den, all the loose ends are brilliantly
tied up after all the (good) characters
of the film make their appearances in roles
that they have assumed to outwit the main
villain – the so-called Bhupinder
Singh and Heera, the smuggler who had triggered
off the story. The sequence swings to and
fro from one revelation and accusation to
counter-revelation and counter-accusations;
truth and falsehood play games against each
other and sometimes in collusion: Heera
accuses Moti and Johny of uniting together
to take revenge of their father’s
death; the two brothers accuse him of duplicity
and reveal a concealed microphone inside
his pocket that Moti had planted; mother
refuses to recognize her son (Sohan) in
order to save him; mother gets to know the
existence of another son (Mohan) but keeps
her emotions under wraps; Sohan refuses
to acknowledge his mother to put Heera in
a false position and the two reunited brothers
cringe as Heera delivers one slap after
another to her to make them admit that she
is their mother; Bhupinder Singh gets progressively
baffled in this diabolical twists and turns;
at one point, Heera seems to hold the reigns
against the brothers; at the next moment
the brothers turn the table against him;
only to be at the receiving end of his whip
when yet another revelation points the fingers
towards them… and it goes on and on,
like a never-ending exciting exchange of
volleys at the net in a thrilling doubles
tennis match.
The screenplay by Vijay Anand, based on
a story by KA Narayan (who also wrote the
story of Jewel Thief), is pompous
to the point of being ludicrous but the
calibre of the director lies in his ability
to pull it off with a straight face without
bothering about niceties. This is not to
say that the weaving lacks logic or poise;
in fact it is an extremely taut screenplay
that flows from scene to scene with an ease
that belies its complexity. Relevant information
is conveyed in the most casual manner through
dialogues that never sound verbose or unduly
informative and the scene immediately cuts
to the next movement. The director comes
straight to the point without beating around
the bush and resorts to freeze frames at
certain places to telescope events which
otherwise would take more screen time to
establish. One recalls the kid Mohan, just
after he has knifed the killer of his father,
being discovered by Premnath, hiding inside
the dicky of his car in the beginning of
the film. The shot freezes and cuts to the
next shot where we see a grownup Mohan,
now Moti (played by Pran), accompanying
an aged Premnath. The print of the shirt
of the young Mohan and grown up Moti is
the only indicator that they are the same
character. No frills, no trappings, straight
on to the point, let’s move forward
with the story sir.
All the elements that constituted popular
Hindi cinema of that time are played to
their hilt in such a confident style that
even after 38 years since it was made, we
can only marvel. It has the theme of brothers
separated through a misadventure, done to
death in innumerable Hindi films; one brother
goes to become a smuggler while the other
becomes a police officer, only to be reunited
before the climax through an accidental
recognition (in this case, their boxing
ability as they fight each other on a cliff
top); it has ‘hi-tech’ devices
like a cigarette lighter that can take immaculate
photographs and a transistor radio that
acts as a transmitter of covert conversations
if one of its knobs is attached to the body
of the concerned person. Gang members communicate
through secret transmitters concealed behind
false walls; diamonds are hidden inside
tennis rackets and transferred to a false
book with cavities carved out from its pages
to hoodwink the customs. Cannabis and other
dangerous drugs are concealed in containers
meant to carry musical instruments; jewelry
belonging to Radha-Krishna statue is smuggled
out inside a tanpura, strummed by Rekha
(Hema Malini) who sings a bhajan (Chup
Chup Meera Roye, Dard-e Na Jaane Koi)
dressed as a sexy jogan to fool the cops
and other devotees. Moti, Johny and Rekha
assume roles and don make-ups as and when
the situations demand to outwit the police
or whoever comes in their paths; Rekha gains
entry into her father’s den dressed
as a local village belle and sings a song
of fatherly love (Babul Pyare)
that reaches the ears of her (actual) captive
father…
The film has an innocence that by no means
points towards naivety. It has intricate
layers that are peeled away gradually as
the film progresses to reveal the truth
that lies at the core. It has a flamboyance
that is the hall mark of any Goldie film
and he carries it off with élan.
One recalls the very first song amidst the
ruins of Nalanda where the cops, headed
by the legendary Jagdish Raj (who it seems
has played the same role in more than 400
films and won his rightful entry in the
Guiness Book) follow Rekha. The sheer incongruity
of the entire song situation, with Rekha
in a black chiffon sari, carrying a black
briefcase and singing a duet (O Mere
Raja) with the stylish and perennially
hunched Dev Anand takes away one’s
breath with its sheer bravado. Oblivious
of the police who follow them from close
proximity, they get into a ropeway carriage
and continue to sing the song as a helpless
Jagdish Raj looks on from the platform.
Coming to song picturisation, Goldie’s
mastery comes out in full steam in the romantic
number Pal Bhar Ke Liye Koi Hume Pyar
Kar Le. Camera traces Dev Anand from
window to window at a cottage as he romances
Rekha through this quintessential Kishore
number and a coquettish Hema Malini closes
one window after the other, but Johny continues
to peep through the next available window
till she grows exasperated. The whole song
is shot in a series of long sweeping takes
as the camera gently follows the main characters
in that limited film space effortlessly
without calling attention to itself. The
whole scene exudes sensuousness as we revel
in the ethereal beauty of the Dream Girl
along with the Evergreen Hero of Hindi cinema
as he tries to court her. It is through
such wonderful songs and lovely picturisations
that the magic of Hindi cinema continues
to charm us through generations and we continue
to hum its tune and conjure up the images
which have become almost iconic.
If the above song situation overwhelms
us with its sensuousness and lyrical quality,
then Husne Ki Lakhon Rang thrusts
itself on us, quite literally, as a voluptuous
Padma Khanna teases Premnath in a no-holds
barred striptease that stops short at her
shocking red bra and panty. It is one of
the highlights of the film and is funny,
sexy, bawdy and supposedly poignant too,
because she puts up the act to save her
fiancé Babu from the clutches of
the evil man. But this noble act on her
part fails to serve her purpose; Babu is
shot dead in the jungles outside and Premnath
succumbs to her charms and makes her his
mistress without her getting to know about
the fate of her lover till towards the end
when he also shoots her dead and she dies
with the name of her lover on her lips;
a sad ending to a vibrant life that dreamt
of a better life with her lover outside
the world of vice and greed, but by that
time she had fulfilled one vital role in
the film: provide the viewers with a dosage
of sex that heroines of those days shied
away from.
In the context of the above song, one interesting
observation emerges in retrospect at a screenplay
level and the ‘rule’ that the
protagonist should necessarily be ‘empathetic’
to endear himself to the viewers. We don’t
bat an eyelid when Dev Anand betrays the
character of Babu who tries to transcend
his criminal milieu and aspires to a straight
and honest life with his girlfriend Tara.
We are carried away by the swift movement
of events and do not stop to bother about
the immorality of the entire act where two
‘innocent’ people are killed
in order for Johny to gain trust and entry
into the gang: Johny has blood on his hands
but the director pulls it off smartly. Again,
this is due to the strength of the screenplay.
Kalyanji Anandji’s compositions are
spot on and capture the varying moods and
tone of the film to perfection, be it the
Lata Mangeshkar bhajan or her pathos filled
Babul Pyare; or the sexy cabaret number
by the quintessential Asha Bhosle in Husne
Ki Lakhon Rang or the romantic numbers sung
in the charming voice of Kishore Kumar and
Asha in their inimitable styles. Each song
captures the mood of the prevailing scene
and its characters and raises the film several
notches, which of course is immensely aided
by Goldie’s deft handling of the song
situations. The background score (like the
art direction which is gaudy) in contrast
is tacky and obvious, but somehow it feels
that the tackiness blends with the innocent
charm of the film because it is after all
a pulp fiction, albeit of a superior quality.
The story and the screenplay offered tremendous
scope for a wide gallery of colourful characters
that fill the screen and the actors deliver
some marvelous performances. In a plot driven
screenplay, characterizations generally
tend to be one-dimensional and stereotypical,
especially the stock characters like the
Bombay Police Commissioner played by Iftekar
or the mother (played by Sulochana). The
protagonists in such films are defined more
by their physical quests but in this case
they – Johny and Rekha, have been
provided with back stories which serve as
springboards of the story and also constitute
the emotional quotient of the film; and
that make their characters more rounded
and defined, more so Rekha’s character
since she is puzzled by the inexplicable
disappearance of her father who was charged
with discrepancies in the Lucknow bank where
he was the manager and now it seems he is
heading a smuggling cartel for which she
works.
Pran’s character goes through the
maximum transition in this bewildering tale
of calculated killings, ever-shifting identities,
clever plot twists and earth-shattering
revelations: from being a juvenile killer
to being a smuggler who ends up fighting
for the law against his benefactor, it’s
a life time role for any actor and he carries
it off with panache. IS Johar in a tripe
role provides the necessary comic relief
whenever the screenplay tends to get heavy
and pulls it off with flair that is typical
of his style.
Dev Anand is at his charming best as usual,
with his quintessential mannerisms and titled
hats and hunched shoulders as he romances
Hema
Malini or fights the bad guys awkwardly
with equal flair, but we really don’t
mind. Whoever bothered about Dev Anand’s
histrionic abilities, anyway? Hema Malini
reminds us of the days when voluptuous Hindi
film heroines wore sleeveless blouses and
the sensuous magic of translucent chiffon
hipster saris showed off their curvaceous
bodies and belly buttons to the best possible
advantage, alluding to a promiscuity that
fell just short of promise and acted only
as teasers.
If there is one character in the film that
takes the cake with his performance, it
is Premnath. He is to Johny Mera Naam
what Gabbar Singh was to Sholay.
Hitchcock rightly said in one of his interviews
that to have an attractive villain adds
to the commercial value of a film. And in
Premnath, we have a wholesome villain who
repels us and charms us at the same time
with equal effect. He is demented, a sadist
and makes pehelwans fight each
other for his entertainment as he grapples
scantily clad girls in half saris. He also
speaks immaculate English (one recalls the
auction scene where foreign smuggles come
to his den to buy smuggled jewels). He is
at his charming best and wins our heart
and also puts us off through his antics
and evil deeds. He is coarse, funny, sophisticated,
vengeful, smart and lovable! It is not frequently
that we see villains like him and he is
still fondly remembered for his brilliant
role in Johny Mera Naam. No discussion of
the film could be complete without his mention
and his portrayal of the unmitigated evil
that he plays to perfection. The later day
villains of the 80s are a pale shadow of
Premnath and rapidly deteriorated to buffoonery.
But of course, the 80s were the worst period
for mainstream Hindi cinema.
At the end, Johny Mera Naam is
a simple moral tale of a battle between
bad guys and good guys where the good guys
ultimately win over the bad guys and social
order is restored. Almost 37 years later,
another film is made that pays homage to
this film and its director and borrows from
its name. Sriram Raghavan’s Johnny
Gaddaar (2007) is a fitting tribute
to the genre of thrillers as exemplified
by Vijay Anand (not to count the plethora
of other influences) but he carries the
thriller agenda further to suit the contemporary
times that we live in. Sriram’s film,
unlike Johny Mera Naam, is an immoral
tale about immoral people who have no qualms
to disturb the social order to achieve their
narrow and immediate goals in life, come
what may. There are no good guys, no redemption
at the end, just a roller coaster ride that
transports us from one plot twist to another.
Goldie Anand, if he had been alive today,
surely would have loved the journey and
found in Sriram Raghavan a true successor!
Johny Mera Naam continues to be
an important milestone in the genre of popular
Hindi cinema not only in terms of its entertainment
value but as a seminal study in the craft
of immaculate story-telling methods that
has continued to inspire film historians,
critics, students and filmmakers over the
years.
Ranjan Das is an alumnus of the
Film and Television Institute of India (FTII),
Pune with specialization in Film Editing,
1992. Having edited various documentaries
and directed different programmes for Bengali
Television, including serials and single
episodes, he has written for feature films
in different Indian languages and also for
popular TV series Sidhhant, Crime
Patrol and Rihayee.
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