Watched Guru Dutt's Pyaasa (1957) on Mubi. Watching this, I'm reminded that non-Satyajit Ray cinema from the Indian subcontinent is one of my most embarrassing blind spots as a critic. I wish I was more familiar with classical Bollywood modes of storytelling and of genre syncretism. This is a brutally cynical romantic melodrama that occasionally veers into wacky comedy, particularly a number of shtick pieces involving an over-eager street masseur. It flagrantly mixes tone and technique, too. There's a suicide attempt at a bridge at night that feels ripped from German Expressionism. Elsewhere, there's a dream sequence between two lovers that looks consciously modeled after classic Hollywood musicals à la Astaire/Rogers. My modern Western film lens tells me I should be leery of the plot which boils down to a misunderstood male genius getting supported by a hooker with a heart of gold. But it feels like there's a specifically Indian cultural context I'm missing. Again, I can't help underscoring just how nasty and cynical this film is. There's a plot where two brothers plot to keep their brother--the hero--locked in an insane asylum so they can profit off his poetry (long story). That's something out of a Von Trier film.
Rating: 7/10
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