Rahul Dev Burman
Shalimar

Rahul Dev Burman. The Myth. The Great Architect. Or simply: the History of the Soundtrack "made in Bollywood". Stop. Period. New paragraph.

To exaggerate with brevity, I could also stop at this point. But at least the first sentence should be expanded. And then I would write: "Rahul Dev Burman, Asha Bhosle, Lata Mangeshkar, Anand Bakshi, Kishore Kumar, and the other names deserving of the definition of Bollywood Legends, albeit not all at the same level." And at that point, yes, one could start a new paragraph. But by naming all the names, I would have exhausted the space for this review. And perhaps even for the next one.

But let's go step by step.

The first question someone asks when watching a Bollywood film for the first time, and who might have been reluctant to watch a Bollywood film before you convinced them in every possible way to watch a Bollywood film, is:

"But why, those dances...?"

Brief pause. And the second question arrives—along with the subsequent ones: "And why, if they are talking, do they suddenly start singing? And why does it happen that a man and a woman—for example—find themselves in a field of flowers or on the mountains of Kashmir if a moment before they were in the living room? And where do all those dancers come from, and where does that orchestra suddenly appear from...?"

Singing and dancing are not parentheses IN the film. They are part OF the film. You just need to know that imagining India without singing and dancing is like imagining a football match without a ball. Without dances, Hindi Cinema would abandon its primary purpose: to make one dream. Cinema in Bollywood is melody that becomes poetry, a daydream that extends far beyond the two-hour duration. A story told with notes, gestures, and dialogues. And in this dream, the notes and dance steps weigh as much as the words.

In fact, the truth is that a few Kathak steps "tell" more than many lines. And few have represented LOVE on screen as they have in Bollywood.

Asha Bhosle has been, over the years, THE Indian Singer par excellence. And it's no coincidence that the well-known "Brimful Of Asha" by Cornershop states: "She's the one that keeps the DREAM alive". She's the one who lent her voice to hundreds and hundreds of songs performed in playback by the actresses on screen. She's the one "behind movie scenes": the one BEHIND. She never appears, but she is always there.

And behind this story are (also) her and her husband R.D. Burman, the Brain who conceived with superhuman creativity an incalculable number of instrumental themes and love-songs for an equal number of films (how many...? Well, I assure you that merely glancing through the summary of his whole work would cause a certain embarrassment...).

Ah, by the way... is anyone wondering HOW MANY songs Asha Bhosle has exactly recorded...? I'm sorry, I couldn't tell you. Close this page and open the Guinness Book of Records.

And back to us.

"Shalimar" is a film from 1978, a notable chapter of Action Cinema in Mumbai. High-profile production, stellar cast. Actually a commercial flop at the time, but later reassessed as it deserved. But above all, a sound commentary that is a Masterpiece of Crossover and effortless contamination. It sums up everything Burman intended as "Soundtrack". But to understand how free his idea in this regard was, and truly penetrate that musical Eden that was India of the "seventies," try listening (first) to "One Two Cha Cha Cha". Marriage between Hindustani cadences and Latin rhythms, certainly. And sorry if that's not much. But it's not all. The real surprise comes when you come across:

"That's the way, a-ha a-ha! I like it, a-ha a-ha!".

Those were the years, after all. And Saturday Night Fever dragged not only Tony Manero to the dance floor, but also the savvy Indian youth, all pomade and latest fashion jackets. While the Title Theme, manna from heaven for DJs of multiple generations, flirts with psychedelic memories and orchestral jazz in a concoction of percussion, brass, and sax solos.

And if in "Countess Caper" jazz gives way to the tarantella, it was only Mr. RD's passion for the Beautiful Country and its alluring Mediterranean harmonies—whose echo is heard even in the Hindi pieces, starting with "Aaina Wohi Rehta Hai"; it's not Asha, but her sister Lata Mangeshkar lending the voice to the extremely sensual Zeenat Aman for a heart-wrenching flashback scene that should have tissues ready (music as the voice of memory...? Yes.)

Transitioning with all the nonchalance in the world from the American funk of "Baby Let's Dance Together" to the more traditional India of "Naag Devta" shouldn't be considered exceptional, by Burman's standards—in the sense that the exceptional WAS his standard, and his openness to MIXING allowed him this and more. And finding one or more unforgettable melodies for almost every film was the norm ("Mera Pyar Shalimar"—yes, sung by Asha—and "Hum Bewafa Hargiz Na Thay" fit the definition of "unforgettable"...? I would say yes...).

And those two and a half minutes of "Romantic Theme"? That Spanish-like solo trumpet surrendering into the arms of the orchestra in a bath of sumptuous melody? Perhaps the best Pino Donaggio could have achieved so much. Perhaps.

And meanwhile, the orchestra does not stop playing, even after the music is over...

...the power of Bollywood?