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By:

Shoumojit Banerjee

27 August 2024 at 9:57:52 am

Sands of Empire: Revisiting Khartoum

If you thought Lawrence of Arabia (1962) was the only great desert classic, think again. Overshadowed for decades by David Lean’s masterpiece, Khartoum (1966) remains one of the great neglected historical epics. Directed by Basil Dearden and anchored by commanding performances from Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier, it deserves a place alongside the decade’s finest large-scale historical dramas. While it falls short of the towering achievement of Lawrence of Arabia, it remains a worthy...

Sands of Empire: Revisiting Khartoum

If you thought Lawrence of Arabia (1962) was the only great desert classic, think again. Overshadowed for decades by David Lean’s masterpiece, Khartoum (1966) remains one of the great neglected historical epics. Directed by Basil Dearden and anchored by commanding performances from Charlton Heston and Laurence Olivier, it deserves a place alongside the decade’s finest large-scale historical dramas. While it falls short of the towering achievement of Lawrence of Arabia, it remains a worthy epic unjustly overshadowed by Lean’s film. More importantly, it belongs to a now-vanished tradition of historical filmmaking that believed audiences could appreciate history, ideas and spectacle in equal measure. Set in 19th century Sudan and Egypt, Khartoum sees the flamboyant General Charles ‘Chinese’ Gordon, played with tremendous conviction by Heston, square off against Muhammad Ahmad, the self-proclaimed ‘Mahdi’ or the ‘Expected One,’ portrayed by Olivier. Amid tangled imperial geopolitics, the British government dispatches Gen. Gordon to oversee the evacuation of Sudan, where the Mahdi has ignited a rebellion against Egyptian and British authority. The Mahdi was a nineteenth-century Osama bin Laden-like prototype – a ruthlessly charismatic religious figure capable of rallying thousands through a potent mix of faith, prophecy and political revolt. The duel between Gordon and the Mahdi is alone worth the price of admission. Heston, relishing the opportunity to play something far more nuanced than his usual larger-than-life heroes, delivers what may well be the finest performance of his career. Sporting a British accent, Heston’s Gordon is a vain man (with a monumental ego) driven equally by courage and conviction. Heston creates a character far more interesting than his celebrated household roles of Judah Ben-Hur or Moses. Indeed, Heston personally regarded Khartoum as one of his favourite films as the role allowed him to move beyond heroic certainty and explore the contradictions of a deeply complex historical figure. Olivier’s performance has long attracted controversy because of his use of blackface. Yet as an acting performance, it remains extraordinarily compelling. His Mahdi is intelligent and magnetic; a man whose seething fanaticism and certainty of purpose makes him a lethal opponent. The conflict between Gordon and the Mahdi is not simply military but philosophical. Each sees himself as the instrument of a higher cause and recognises something admirable in the other. Their exchanges possess an intellectual weight seldom encountered in contemporary blockbusters. That quality owes much to the literate screenplay by playwright Robert Ardrey who has his characters debate faith, empire and political expediency in scintillating dialogues. The supporting cast is equally distinguished. Sir Ralph Richardson is magnificent as the British Prime Minister, William Ewart Gladstone who embodies British pragmatism and Machiavellian statecraft in equal measure. He admires Gordon while recognising that empires cannot be run according to the impulses of heroic individuals. Richardson captures the tension between moral rhetoric and political calculation with a finesse that only a legend of his stature could. One should perhaps be thankful that such a film got made at all. Never mind today’s audiences, the tangled skein of late 19th century British imperial politics was hardly an easy sell for audiences in the 1960s as well. Americans, in particular, would likely have had little clue about Sudan, Khartoum, Gordon or the Mahdist revolt. Yet Khartoum succeeds brilliantly in bringing this forgotten era to life. The political intrigues of Whitehall and the desperate military situation on the Nile acquire genuine dramatic force. It belongs to a period when filmmakers trusted audiences to listen and follow ideas rather than watch mindless action. The 1960s were the golden age of the literate historical epic. Films such as Spartacus, El Cid, The Fall of the Roman Empire and The Charge of the Light Brigade combined spectacle with serious engagement with history. Khartoum stands proudly within that tradition. Gordon and the Mahdi have long gone. The British Empire has vanished. But Sudan remains trapped in seemingly perpetual cycles of conflict. Coups, civil wars, military strongmen, competing centres of authority and devastating violence have haunted the country for decades. The headlines change; the instability persists. That is what makes Khartoum feel unexpectedly contemporary. Beneath its grand costumes and imperial pageantry lies a story about a state struggling to define itself, about rival claims to legitimacy, and about the dangerous collision between political power and religious conviction. 60 years after its release, Khartoum remains not merely a superb film but a haunting reminder that history, especially in Sudan, has a habit of repeating itself.

Bollywood’s Classical Echo: The Invisible Hand of Raaga in Hindi Film Music

Updated: Feb 12, 2025

Far from a relic of the past, classical music remains Bollywood’s invisible maestro with even the catchiest Bollywood tunes steeped in centuries-old musical traditions.

Hindi Film Music
The Music Makers – Naushad, SD Burman, Jaikishan and Madan Mohan

Bollywood music is often painted in stark contrasts, either it is classical or it is not. This binary straitjacket is misleading. The truth is, Indian classical music permeates the sonic landscape of Bollywood, shaping its melodies, moods and emotional depth in ways both overt and subtle. Even the most commercially driven compositions owe their soul to the age-old system of raagas, the backbone of Indian classical music.


To understand Bollywood music’s classical underpinnings, it is necessary to first grasp the essence of Indian classical music. Whether in its Hindustani (North Indian) or Carnatic (South Indian) tradition, classical music is built on a fixed set of notes, or swaras. These notes, arranged in specific patterns, give rise to ragas - melodic frameworks that evoke distinct emotions and are associated with specific times of the day. Some ragas, like Bhoopali, are pentatonic, containing only five swaras (sa, re, ga, pa, dha), while others, like Durga, include a different set of five notes. More complex ragas use all seven notes, but their progression and treatment make them unique entities. The mood or ‘rasa’ of a raga is integral to its identity; each is designed to evoke specific emotions, whether it be devotion, melancholy, or romance.


Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Indian classical music is its temporal discipline. Each raga is associated with a specific time of day, a rule traditionally adhered to by classical musicians. Each raaga is bound by an almost cosmic order - what musicians refer to as prakriti or rasa, the intrinsic nature and emotional essence of a melodic framework. One does not simply sing a raaga at whim. The time of day alters its resonance, its ability to evoke sentiment.


Consider Raag Ahir Bhairav, one of the oldest known raagas, traditionally sung at the moment when night yields to dawn - pratahkaal, that liminal hour when darkness dissolves and the first traces of light filter through. The mood it evokes is one of solemnity, a meditative gravity that feels at odds with the celebratory abandon of a wedding reception or an evening gathering. The raaga is meant to embody a transition, a quiet reckoning with the day’s beginning. To sing Ahir Bhairav at an inappropriate time is to strip it of its intended weight, to turn its gravitas into something unnatural, even dissonant.


This understanding is not lost on Bollywood’s more astute composers. Take, for instance, Ahir Bhairav in cinema. The mournful strains of ‘Jago Mohan Pyare’ or ‘Mohe Bhool Gaye Sawariya’ lean into its weighty, introspective nature, reinforcing themes of longing and reflection. More intriguingly, Ismail Darbar’s use of Ahir Bhairav in ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’ departs from the expected. The composition ‘Albela Sajan Aayo Re’ is a century-old bandish, lifted directly from classical tradition to underscore the protagonist’s vocal training. Here, the raaga is not merely a background motif but an active participant in the film’s narrative.


Another raga that Bollywood frequently draws from is Bhimpalasi, known for its blend of seriousness, romance, and devotion. Sung in the afternoon, Bhimpalasi’s characteristic komal (flat) notes lend it a wistful, yearning quality. It is the backbone of songs like ‘Radha Kaise Na Jale’ (Lagaan), ‘Kismat Se ‘Tum Humko Mile Ho’ (Pukar), and ‘Eli Re Eli’ (Yaadein). The raga’s spiritual resonance is also evident in Pandit Jasraj’s ‘Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudeva’ and Mehdi Hassan’s ‘Zindagi Mein Toh Sabhi Pyaar Kiya Karte Hain.’


Yet, Bollywood is known for its playful transgressions. The hit song ‘Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast’ (from Mohra, 1994) is often cited as an example of Raag Bhimpalasi in a mass-market setting. However, some musicologists argue that the composition leans more towards Raag Dhani, an ‘unidentical twin’ of Bhimpalasi. This blurred line between ragas and their cinematic interpretation exemplifies how Bollywood modifies classical frameworks to suit popular tastes.


This evolution of Bollywood music has not been without challenges. With the rise of digitized production and Western influences, the presence of Indian classical music has, in some cases, receded. For purists, Bollywood’s dilution of classical music may seem like sacrilege. But one could argue that adaptation and accessibility are precisely what have kept Indian classical traditions alive in popular consciousness. Unlike the West, where classical music has largely remained an elite pursuit, India’s cinematic culture has ensured that millions, knowingly or unknowingly, are exposed to its foundational raagas.


Even when a song does not strictly adhere to raaga conventions, the foundational principles of classical music often guide its composition. Legendary music directors like Naushad, S.D. Burman and Madan Mohan were steeped in classical traditions and infused their work with intricate raaga-based structures.


Contemporary composers often rely on loops and software-generated sounds rather than intricate classical progressions. Today’s composers like A.R. Rahman, Amit Trivedi and Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy seamlessly weave classical elements into their compositions, proving that ragas are not relics but living, breathing entities capable of evolving with time.


Despite Bollywood’s increasing global influences, classical music remains its anchor. Whether in the grandeur of orchestral scores or the intimacy of a lone sitar, the echoes of India’s ancient musical heritage persist, shaping the soundscape of its most popular medium. The next time a groovy Bollywood melody tugs at your heartstrings, listen closely, for you might hear a raaga at play.

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