Why Deewar is more iconic than Sholay 

There’s cinema that’s pure fantasy, a happy coincidence of imagination and creativity. Like Sholay. And then there’s cinema that comes from around us, reflecting the very issues we are fighting. Like Deewar. It’s not necessary for the latter to give you any solutions. It’s the mere representation that matters.

Yash Chopra’s 1975 drama about two brothers, Vijay (Amitabh Bachchan) and Ravi (Shashi Kapoor), defines the very fabric of quintessential Bollywood. It’s excessively melodramatic, full of whistle-worthy dialogues, appeals to the emotions of a common man, and leaves you entertained. Like any other good commercial cinema.

Now, Sholay, which over time earned the title of being a cult classic in the Hindi film industry, has all the elements that Deewar has. But, it is still light years behind in being this layered story that’s relevant even today.

In both Sholay and Deewar, a handsome and rugged Amitabh Bachchan commands your attention. Except, in the Ramesh Sippy-directorial, he is a criminal-turned-man with a newfound purpose, and in Deewar, his purpose in life turns him into a criminal. Bachchan’s celebrated image as the ‘angry young man’ of the industry is more credited to Deewar than Sholay, even when both the films were released the same year.

Sholay, which wasn’t a success when it was first released in theatres, is like a grand, loud play. Its characters are not real, neither is the situation it deals with. It became a mammoth success in the later years simply because it represents the escapist cinema at its best. You are invested in the story of two underdogs who will fight tooth and nail to bring down a dacoit, Gabbar Singh.

Each character in Sholay is so animated that you are left in awe of them. There’s Thakur, an ex-cop, whose hands were chopped off by Gabbar, and he is living to avenge all that he lost years ago.

Jai and Veeru (played by Bachchan and Dharmendra, respectively) are like machine guns – very attractive, full of strength but all over the place in the absence of a steep direction. There’s Basanti (Hema Malini), a colourfully nonchalant addition in a drama based on dacoits.

A jailer (Asrani) who is a perfect mockery of Hitler, rarely ever done in Hindi cinema. There’s also a blind Imaam Saheb (AK Hangal) to provide the emotional relief amid action and comedy. Not to forget, a very muted Radha (Jaya Bachchan), the white saree-clad widow of Thakur’s son who was killed by Gabbar.

The premise of Sholay is nothing short of extraordinary, because it’s inscrutably unbelievable. The film can be watched at any age in any era, and it will remain unbelievable. Which is not the case with Deewar.

At its heart, Deewar, written by Salim-Javed, offers a powerful commentary on the socio-political shifts in the country, addressing issues that are not only believable but relevant. To the point that making a film like that wouldn’t be an easy job today. The story cleverly operates in the disguise of a stellar drama between two sons and their mother, but all throughout its journey, it remains a poignant take on the changing fabric of the nation in the late 70s.

Even before we are introduced to the heroes of the film, we are told about the significant issues of a common man – the loss of opportunities, the rich and the poor divide, the feeling of losing faith in the state, and that urge to speak up. One of the initial scenes in the film has Vijay and Ravi’s father, Anand Verma, leading a strike by the factory workers against the owners’ oppression, demanding decent wages.

That he is later silenced in the film following the kidnapping of his family is quite a representation of those being shushed by power, connections and access to riches. Not to overlook the fact that it was released in the same year as Indira Gandhi declaring an emergency, the darkest phase in the history of Indian governance.

Deewar is also an unflinching way of showing the idea of the right and the wrong, what lies in between, and the idea of what needs to be done and what should be done.

When Ravi decides to kill his brother, Vijay, and their mother permits the killing, the message is quite clear: the criminal needs to be done away with. The fact that it was those painful circumstances that made Vijay a smuggler is irrelevant. His angst against the world doesn’t matter. It is also not relevant if he was brutally bullied as a child, and was tattooed ‘mera baap chor hai’. The only thing that’s important is that in the battle between the right and the wrong, the wrong will never win.

In Deewar, the lines between this right and wrong are quite blurry. Probably that’s the reason you never find yourself celebrating the death of Vijay with his own brother. In fact, you always find yourself rooting for that man, because him becoming this rich, powerful figure feels like a personal win. He is the hero. His success is a slap on the faces of those who bullied him in childhood, and made his mother start afresh in a grim world, in the face of adversity.

Deewar not just makes you sit up and clap everytime Vijay realises his power, it also makes you think. While Sholay could be a grand imagery, Deewar is a deep rumination about deprivation, social ascent and discontent.

Even with all its popularity and the celebratory status, Sholay will always be just a film. While Deewar is almost like a well-thought book about cinema itself. Also, Sholay will never have one thing that Deewar has: Maa.