By Aditi Mukund Prabhudesai
One
of my favorite sequences in the action-comedy thriller Baadshah (1999)
involves detective Baadshah (played by Shah Rukh Khan who was
born to play this role) trapped in a terrible situation. He has been coerced
into carrying out an assassination of a politician, Gayatri Bachchan (Rakhee
Gulzar), at a hotel press conference. He attempts to warn several people inside
the hotel but is thwarted at every turn. Almost every person he turns to for
help, from a security officer to Gayatri’s husband, turns out to be involved in
the conspiracy. The sequence masterfully builds up his mounting desperation and
frustration. “Gun toh mere pass bhi hain lekin goli tumhe chalani hain” (I too
have a gun, but it is you who has to fire), smirks the security officer
knowingly when Baadshah informs him that he possesses a gun [1]. It’s a
spine-chilling moment which drives home just how widely connected the plotters
are.
To my
delight, I felt similarly while watching a scene in Saboteur (1942)
directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Saboteur tackles Hitchcock’s
recurring plot: an innocent man on the run from the law. Like his earlier film,
The 39 Steps, Saboteur features a road-trip, this time across America. The
innocent man here is Barry Kane, an aircraft factory worker, played by Robert
Cummings. Hitchcock wanted Gary Cooper for the lead role and felt he was
settling for Cummings. But Robert Cummings brings a boyish charm, sincerity,
and innocence to the role which serve him well. The pertinent scene takes place
in the ballroom of a mansion. Kane and the leading lady Pat Martin (Priscilla
Lane) have just escaped from the clutches of a horde of fifth columnists on
the top floor and find themselves in the ballroom where a party is in full
swing (the hostess herself is party to the saboteurs’ activities). Footmen,
doubling as henchmen, calmly block the front door. Seeing that they are
surrounded by the saboteurs, Barry decides to enlist an elderly gentleman
guest’s help. Naturally, his story comes off as ridiculous (“this whole
house is a hotbed of spies and saboteurs”). He is dismissed as a drunk and
derided for his apparently inappropriate clothes. Another guest reveals himself
as one of the gang, displaying shades of the security officer in Baadshah.
“It’s like a bad dream”, Pat exclaims.
Frustrated, Barry and Pat decide to
give in to their surroundings and take advantage of their dire situation: they
starting dancing together among the guests. The scene then segues into some
breathless romantic declarations. This digression adds to the surrealism of an
already bizarre scenario; here they are, hemmed in by saboteurs in a room full
of potential witnesses and they are helpless to do anything but dance and
declare their devotion to each other. Their sweet nothings go on for too long
though and threaten to drain all the tension.
Suddenly, Pat is whisked away by a
stranger and out of desperation, Barry decides to publicly unmask the hostess.
However, his attention is politely drawn to a revolver discreetly trained at
him from far off and he abandons his plan. People, people everywhere and not a
person to warn. The entire sequence supports the theme running throughout the
movie: it is the common American, represented by a truck driver, members of a
freak show circus and a blind man who all instantly sense Barry’s innocence and
help him in various ways, who upholds the true values of America. The elites
don’t come off well in the movie. This sequence is more effective in conveying
this theme than a later conversation between Barry and a slimy ranch owner
Charles Tobin (Otto Kruger). There, both spout extended monologues about
patriotism and fascism which come off a bit heavy handed. Both are reduced to
mouthpieces: their exchange doesn’t seem to arise organically.
Saboteur contains a striking
example of artistic flourish in its title sequence. It starts off with giant
corrugated sheets occupying the screen. Ominous music, scored by Frank Skinner,
starts blaring. The screen remains static and charged with anticipation while
we wait for the credits. Suddenly, a small shadow, dressed in a trench coat and
a hat, creeps in from the right of the screen. The sudden appearance is quite
unnerving. The shadow keeps growing as it shuffles across the screen. The slow,
measured walk with the hint of a limp is loaded with menace. The use of a silhouette
depicts the anonymity enjoyed by the spy. The sequence neatly expresses the
idea of the sinister presence of the saboteur: hidden in plain sight and
growing in strength. The ridges and furrows in the sheets at once suggest a
veil-we learn later that the sheets are sidings in an aircraft factory which
harbors the saboteur, and also prison bars, furthering the idea that criminals
are afoot. At the end of the title sequence, even as the camera cuts to the
next shot, the shadow continues to walk indicating the relentless machinations
of the saboteurs.
 |
| Clockwise: Title Sequence |
As the film begins, we are
introduced to Barry Kane amid the hubbub of a lunch break in the factory. A few
scenes later, suddenly it gets quiet and we are treated to three establishing
shots of the factory. All of them are static. The first gives us a glimpse of
the hangar from afar.
We get an inside view of the hangar
in the second still. A fleet of airplanes stands silently like the Terracotta
Army. All this while, the sudden silence, in stark contrast with the earlier
chatter, hangs heavily in the air like the calm before an oncoming storm. Each
of the stills is held for around four seconds, adding to the unease. They are
like leaves of a photo album, capturing memories of a place soon to be scarred.
The third shot contains a canvas of
corrugated sheets similar to those in the title sequence. A pile of cans at the
bottom far left lends weight and anchors the scene. It also acts as a frame
corner of the image. It is complemented by the diagonally opposite lettering on
the sheets. The third shot acts as the punch-line to the tension built up by
the earlier two stills.
That it shares similarity with the
background of the title sequence reinforces this: we can sense this is where
the action is going to take place, having seen the shadow earlier. We are left
staring at the wall, our nerves taut in anticipation, not knowing where to
look, not knowing what is going to happen. Of course, the title sequence holds
the key. A wisp of black smoke slithers in from the bottom left mirroring the
shadow in the title sequence. The wisp turns into a black mass of malevolent
smoke. Like the shadow, the smoke starts snowballing, engulfing everything in
its way and overshadowing the screen. The smoke too is a stand-in for the
saboteur. The sound here too contributes to the narrative. When the trail of
smoke first enters the frame furtively, the audio track is still silent. Even
as the smoke spreads its tentacles, the continued silence induces panic and
certain menace. Only when the insidious smoke begins to blot out the lettering
on the sheets, then does baleful music start roaring. The alarm has been raised
too late: the saboteur (smoke) has done his work before being noticed. The
workers present in the canteen get up row by row in tune with the siren lending
a whimsical touch to the end of the sequence.
 |
| Clockwise: Fire at the Factory |
References
1.
Springfield! Springfield!, ”Baadshah (1999) Movie Script”, Springfield!
Springfield!
Readers, please feel free to share your opinion by leaving your comments. As always your valuable thoughts are highly appreciated!
About Author
Aditi Mukund Prabhudesai is a film and literature enthusiast from Pune. Formerly a software engineer, she is currently doing an internship in a quizzing company. She blogs at https://neitherlessnormore.wordpress.com/
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