Right as rain
The beauty and ferocity of rain has fascinated many a film-maker across the world, writes Vikramdeep Johal

Soundarya in Dweepa
Soundarya in Dweepa

Blessing or curse, boon or bane, there’s no denying the power of rain. No wonder it has been used in umpteen films as a dramatic element or a backdrop for song-and-dance sequences. Some of the most poetic images of rain appear in Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali (1955). Adolescent Durga performs an impromptu rain dance with uninhibited glee, watched by her younger brother Apu. He wants to join her, yet remains transfixed under a tree. When she’s had enough fun, a shivering Durga chants a rhyme to make the rain go away: By the leaf of the lime and fruit of the karamcha tree/ Rain, away with thee! It doesn’t work — instead, she catches a cold and falls sick. Rain and thunder pound her house all night, rattling even Lord Ganesha, whose small idol sways precariously on a plinth. The storm leaves a trail of destruction, not even sparing poor Durga.

Girish Kasaravalli’s Kannada film Dweepa (screened at IFFI-2002) used rain not as a mere backdrop but as a character. It is the story of Nagi (Soundarya), a village woman who withstands the ruthless onslaught of rain, even though her husband loses all hope of survival and her father-in-law falls victim to nature’s fury. It’s impossible to forget the cremation scene, which takes place in a torrential downpour (fire triumphs over water in this clash of the elements).

A pre-marital affair, a long-suppressed family secret and above all, the monsoon — what more do you need to make marriage preparations downright chaotic and stormy? Mira Nair wove a captivating web of relationships in Monsoon Wedding (2001). After all the tension and bitterness, showers bring welcome relief to the characters, making them dance with gay abandon — all’s well that rains well.

Rain is a natural phenomenon — or is it? In Joseph Anthony’s The Rainmaker (1956), a charming con man called Starbuck (Burt Lancaster) promises rain to residents of a drought-hit town. All are taken in by his tall claims, except a "plain Jane" spinster. Thirsty for life and love, her soul mirrors the parched landscape. Starbuck not only makes her believe she’s beautiful but also cures her of her cynicism, proving that he is a "miracle man" after all (In Vijay Anand’s Guide, the rainmaker’s role was thrust upon Dev Anand by superstitious villagers, with fatal consequences).

The Rainmaker was superbly remade in Hindi by Amol Palekar as Thodasa Roomani Ho Jayen (1991). Nana Patekar was delightful as Dhoomketu Baarishkar, the shady stranger who transforms the humdrum life of Anita Kanwar.

The "passion igniting" Indian rainy season played Cupid for a married English socialite and a Hindu doctor in Clarence Brown’s The Rains Came (1939). Its highlights were the deluge (and earthquake) scenes, which had impressive special effects.

Rain brought together two former lovers in Rituparno Ghosh’s Raincoat (2004), and they shared their bittersweet memories while it kept pouring.

It takes a rainy night, complete with thunderclaps and lightning bolts, to unleash the beast in humans. In Ken Stein’s B-grade movie The Rain Killer (1990), a psycho murdered women exclusively during rainstorms. Amjad Khan raped Rakhee in Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (1981), while Bharat Kapoor committed the crime against Poonam Dhillon in Noorie (1979).

Incessant rain heightened the tension and drama in thrillers like Blade Runner (1982) and Hard Rain (1998), while it helped a convict escape and prove his innocence in Floods of Fear (1958). In Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1957) the bloody and muddy showdown between the warriors and the bandits took place in torrential rain (had the scene been shot in sunshine, it would have lost much of its impact).

Rain comes in quite handy for a symbolic shot, provided the film-maker has the creative brains to make it work. In Carol Reed’s The Stars Look Down (1939), a love-making scene is intercut with the image of two raindrops fusing together (What subtlety, in sharp contrast to the crudeness of "kissing flowers" in Hindi films). In James Ivory’s The Remains of the Day (1993), emotionally repressed butler Anthony Hopkins sits alone in a car, crestfallen after bidding a sad goodbye to Emma Thompson. He’s not the type to cry, but the raindrops falling on the windscreen seem like tears streaming down his face. That’s the magic of cinema — and the magic of rain.






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