Release Year: 1983
Country: India
Starring: Mithun Chakraborty, Shammi Kapoor, Tina Munim, Mazhar Khan, Deepti Naval
Director: Ambrish Sanagl
Screenplay: Nusrat Sayeed, V. K. Sharma
Music: Bappi Lahiri
Cinematographer: Pramod Mital
Producer: Shyam Sunder Shivdasani

The conventions of genre films are wonderful things – especially when you have seen enough of a particular genre. Then you don’t even need to know what the characters are saying to know what is going on. That is particularly so is western films, because genre conventions are generally, adhered to quite rigidly. Exceptions being films like The Big Silence, which takes delight at playing against the genre conventions. But by the same token, if audiences weren’t familiar with genre conventions, then Sergio Corbucci’s bravura ending would not have worked.

But despite the misleading title, Wanted: Dead or Alive, I am not looking at a spaghetti western, or a Steve McQueen television series, or even a violent exploitation flick starring Rutger Hauer. This Wanted: Dead or Alive is a Bollywood western; or a Basmati western as I think we have dubbed them on Teleport City and the copy I have viewed does not have sub-titles. So as usual, in these instances, expect my plot synopsis to be way off beam. Well maybe not quite as off-beam as usual, because the Western formula is pretty easy to follow. The problem however, is that Bollywood films by their very nature – and generally three hour running time – like to go off on tangents, and explore little subplots. These tangents are not so easy to pick up on. Never to mind. Let’s see how we go.

Just as an adjunct before we get started, I just though it was worth mentioning the star of this film; Mithun Chakraborty. Chakraborty has had the most amazing career. He is now 62 years old and over the length of his career he has managed to appear in over two-hundred and fifty productions. The thing is, he didn’t start acting till he was twenty-nine years-old, which means he has made, roughly, eight films per year for the last thirty years. Even slowing down in his latter years, he is still appearing in about five productions per year. I find that simply staggering. Putting it in perspective, the continually hard-working Clint Eastwood has only appeared in sixty-six productions over his fifty year career. The most films that Clint has made in one year was five and that was when he was an unknown, simply playing bit parts.

But it is right that I should bring up Clint Eastwood, because the spectre of Eastwood and Spaghetti westerns in general hang over this film. As the film opens, the visuals echo the opening of For a Few Dollars More. In the distance a cowboy slowly rides into a canyon. In the foreground appears the barrel of a rifle. A jews harp twangs on the soundtrack, and then a shot rings out. The rider falls and the credits roll.

Before I go any further, I want to point out one other thing about this movie. Although this film is a western, it is not set in the past. Some people dress ‘normally’ and even drive around in jeeps and cars. The conceit of this movie, however, that there are pockets of the ‘Wild West’ lifestyle in India, where people still ride horses, and have gun fights, and dress as cowboys.

After the credits, the film opens at a railway station and a group of people have assembled and are waiting for a train to arrive. One of the people waiting in Neeta (Tina Munim), whose father is on board the train. After a slight delay, the train arrives, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps going until it crashes into some bumpers at the end of the track. A police inspector, who was also at the station, and Neeta and the first to the train, and upon inspection they find that everybody on board has been killed.

It seems that notorious criminal; Vikram (Mithum Chakraborty) is the prime suspect. He already has a hefty price tag on his head for killing his wife, Angela. The thing is, and this is shown in a Leone style flashback, that Vikram is innocent of his wife’s murder. In fact, Vikram used to be a police officer. On the fateful day that his wife died, a vicious bandit called Kehar Singh (Om Shivpuri) and his band of outlaws have been out doing bandit like things (this happens off screen, so I cannot tell you what they were doing). Vikram is called to join the posse sent to hunt Kehar Singh down.

Somehow, Kehar Singh slips through the police dragnet and seeks refuge in Vikram’s home. Angela opens the door, only to find the bandit pointing a gun at her. She reluctantly allows him to enter the house. The police come to Angela’s door, but the Singh’s gun aimed at her, she assures the officer that she is alone. Once the police pass, for no other reason than that fact he is pure evil, Singh shoots Angela. Covered in blood, she lurches forward and grabs at Singh. In doing so, she retrieves a playing card from his top pocket. Singh is not only a bandit, but he is a gambler too. Anglea collapses to the ground dead and Singh makes his getaway.

Vikram returns home to find Angela dead on the floor. The only clue is the playing card, which is from the ‘Gold Nugget Gambling Hall’. In a contrivance that is never really explained, (well not that I could work out), Vikram is blamed for his wife’s murder. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. As an outlaw, it is much easier for Vikram to track down who killed his wife, and after a short while he has joined the Singh’s band of outlaws. Of course, Vikram still isn’t sure who killed his wife, but I am sure you can see where this is going. Later there is a card game between Vikram and Singh, and Vikram recognises the deck. Vikram challenges Singh to a duel and shoots him dead. Now Vikram can leave the lifestyle behind, but unfortunately he still has this reputation as an outlaw.

To complicate things however, while riding with Singh’s men, Vikram was a part of the attack on the train at the opening of the film. He didn’t kill anyone, but none-the-less he was in the outlaw party. Neeta, whose father was killed in the attack, is now looking for a little revenge, and sets out to track down Vikram and kill him.

Of course, this is just a small portion of the film. Naturally, as you would no doubt assume, Neeta does catch up with Vikram, but before she can shoot him, he explains the truth of the matter. She believes him. But she still wants to get the men who killed her father. Vikram agrees to help, and go after the rest of Singh’s gang. The thing is though, that Singh is not dead. It seems that Vikram was suspected by Singh, and blanks were put in his gun. So during the shootout, Singh was not killed. But. Vikram doesn’t know that.

I have already mentioned that the film owes a small debt to Sergio Leone in the way it is structured and even filmed. There are slow motion flashbacks, which fill in the back stories of the characters, and during shootouts there are close up of the protagonists eyes. Maybe not as extreme as Leone, but enough to suggest some mimickry. The other major influence of this film are the Trinity films. Also in the story is a big burly fellow named Chief Inspector Vincent, who is tracking down Vikram and Singh. When he catches up with Vikram, he doesn’t take him into custody and enters into an uneasy truce with him. So there you have your substitute Trinity and Bambino characters, with Vikram as Trinity, and Vincent as Bambino. This is most noticeable in the fight scenes, where Vincent enters into some Bud Spencer type buffoonery, knocking people down with a thrust of his belly, or smacking people on top of the head – where they then go cross-eyed and collapse to the ground. That old shtick.

The musical numbers in this film are a bit thin on the ground. The first and best takes place in a bar, which quickly changes from an old style western bar with men playing card and dragging on cheroots, into a pounding eighties style disco with mirror balls and swirling pop-art back drops. The second musical interlude takes place somewhat incongruously in some snow-covered mountains when Vincent courts Neeta. Of course it is an unrequited courtship, because Mithun is the star of the movie, and a second banana, comic relief character is not going to end up with the girl. The third and final number takes place after the resurrected Singh captures Vikram and has him crucified. In all of the musical numbers, Mithun takes a back seat. Strangely in this film he doesn’t get a chance to show off his moves on the dancefloor or warble a tune. He does get to kick but though, and there are plenty of opportunities for him to show off his quasi martial arts skills.

At the risk of sounding like a pseudo-intellectual dipshit, I thought I’d briefly touch up music in Bollywood films, because, quite frankly this does my head in. For those not familiar with the term ‘diegetic’ it means on the screen and in the story. Most film music is non-diegetic. Take for example John Barry or Ennio Morricone, their music (generally) doesn’t take part in the film. It is played over the top to modify the mood. Films that have a musical performance in them  are termed diegetic as the music forms part of the narrative of the film – that is it appears on the screen. Then you’ve got that grey-area in between — sort of like a Elvis Presley musical. For instance Elvis is on a beach and he picks up a guitar and starts strumming and singing away — yes it’s diegetic, but at the same time he is backed by a non-existent (as far as the film is concerned) backing band and the Jordanaires — non diegetic. So Elvis  is diegetic and non-diegetic at the same time. But you know…he’s the king. He can do whatever he likes.

Bringing that back to a film like Wanted: Dead or Alive, which has Inspector Vincent attempting to court Neeta. What does he do? He brings her flowers and sings to her. So far this could be lifted from an Elvis movie — on screen we have singing which is diegetic, but the backing track is non-diegetic. But the film-makers can’t just be happy with that – no, they have to take it further. The environment changes. Vincent and Neeta who are in the dry arid western desert are transported to a snow covered mountain — and then later to some paddle boats on a lake. So what happens now? Has the diegetic portion of the song (the vocal) now become non-degetic as it has been transposed from it’s original setting, or is the beginning of a whole new diegetic sequence that only exists for a tiny portion of the movie? The truth is I don’t know.

Therein probably lies the reason that many of the older Bollywood films, that many would consider B-grade, are worth investigating. Here I am foolishly trying to apply conventional film analysis to a Bollywood film, and what’s it doing? It’s screwing right out from under me. It can’t be pigeonholed and broken down like some piece of pre-fabricated, production line entertainment. They aren’t made that way. Earlier, I compared Wanted: Dead or Alive to Leone’s westerns and the Trinity films, and while those influences are definitely in this film, it is still a very different beast to those cited films. Fistful of Dollars never had mirror balls and chorus lines of cowboys grooving away to a disco beat.

As I have said on a few occasions elsewhere, I am only at the beginning of my journey into understanding Indian cinema. I am not even too sure if I like the films too much, but you’ve got to respect the way these films have been made. There may be some kind of formula — plot wise at least — but that is just one small part of the jigsaw puzzle that makes up a Bollywood film. In between you’ve got bizarre  musical interludes (which regardless of story have to include one number filmed outdoors and one filmed in a swinging nightclub); an overlay of religous symbology; dodgy special effects. That’s in front of the camera, then you’ve got the skewed vision of a cameraman who appears to have been told to do whatever he wants. And behind the scenes there’s a level of nepotism that makes the words ‘family affair’ redundant.

It may seem like I am being cynical, but I say all that with affection. And Wanted: Dead or Alive is a film that is easy to like in its skewed twisted way. Remembering that the Italians had stopped making spaghetti westerns by the late seventies, it is almost joyous to watch the Merchants of Bollywood having their own belated attempt at making their own to fill in the gap.