Bhumika (1977)
The role that established 22-year-old Smita Patil as an actress of extraordinary merit. It remains, arguably, her best work. Director Shyam Benegal scaled this film on a creative and ambitious level. The talent involved was uniformly megawatt. Girish Karnad and Satyadev Dubey wrote the screenplay and dialogue on which Vijay Tendulkar also collaborated. Govind Nihalani was the cinematographer, while Naseeruddin Shah, Amol Palekar, Amrish Puri, and Anant Nag played the pivots around whom the life of the heroine (played by Smita) revolved. Bhumika proved to be the high point of the art movement in the 1970s. The film’s inspiration was 1940s actress Hansa Wadkar’s autobiography. Bhumika’s Usha is an actress whose need to ‘find’ herself and illusory contentment encompasses several broken relationships.
Smita Patil : A Pioneer of Indian Cinema
She finds that men in her life — whether weak or strong — seek to commodify her or reduce her to ‘role’ playing a part in their fantasy. You may question Usha’s choices as she goes hurtling through her turbulent life, but you can’t hide your fascination as she skids off the rails and then struggles to get back on track again. Benegal reveals a genuinely complex vision as he captures the neediness, insecurities, and creative temperament (her abandoned child looks at her with such mute, indicative eyes) of a woman who struggles as much with the dichotomy inside her (between her liberated and domesticated selves) as she struggles with a male-dominated world outside.
This heavily atmospheric film draws you in with its magnetism — the Indian film industry, from 1930 to 1950 serves as a fascinating backdrop, the radio broadcasts capture the changing time periods and the sepia tones for the flashbacks scenes all add immeasurably to setting up the mood. Smita has perhaps never looked as soul-searingly natural and beautiful as she does here. She completely seems to share her character’s psychic space. Yet going beyond the instinctual, she shades her scenes with the right amount of thought and doubt. It’s a magnificent performance that’s never less than three-dimensional.
Chakra (1981)
This film won Smita Patil yet another National Award for best actress after Bhumika. Chakra, a surprise box office success, was a strident wake-up call, rousing us to the seemingly inescapable ‘chakra’ of fate that governs the lives of millions of Mumbai slum-dwellers. Smita plays a migrant who comes to Mumbai but finds little succor in the city of dreams. After she loses her husband, she ekes out an existence in the slums. Hers is a character that is not romanticized or glorified but drawn with a level eye — she has a couple of affairs (Naseeruddin Shah, Kulbushan Kharbanda).
It’s a Darwinian situation where survival is all that matters. Brimming with squalor and seediness, the story is realistically but grippingly told. Its hard-hitting credo predates Chandni Bar.
Smita Patil hopes have survived in her son, on whom she has pinned her expectations, but the wheels of fate grind inexorably on. In Chakra, Smita looks far removed from the gloss and glamour of Bollywood, blending seamlessly with her character. As part of her research for the film, she visited slums on Tulsi Pipe Road (north-central Mumbai), returning home with parched lips and chipped nails.
She imbues her performance with hard-won empathy. Unfortunately, a bathing scene of Smita splashed on the film’s posters became the most recognizable symbol of the film. It gave the film notoriety and maybe success too. The film’s promising director, Rabindra Dharamaraj, unfortunately, passed away in the year of its release.
Namak Halaal (1982)
Namak Halaal was not one of the most intellectually demanding roles of Smita’s career. But, arguably, more people have seen Smita Patil in this super-successful film than in most of her other films put together. That certainly makes it one of her most memorable films. Prakash Mehra’s Namak Halaal established Smita’s versatility as an actress and proved that she could be accepted as a commercial heroine who could dance and sing songs.
The film is essentially a showcase for Amitabh Bachchan, but Smita is all cool efficiency and bemused intelligence as the employee of the hotel where Amitabh chooses to do his bumbling acting. As his girlfriend, she is all sensuality. A white-sari-clad Smita proved she could move with grace and do her own version of the rain dance in the superhit song Aaj Rapat Jaaye Toh Hamein Na Uthaiyo.
Arth (1983)
Smita was not afraid to take on grey-tinged roles. In Bazaar, she played a woman manipulated by her lover into arranging a nubile match for a rich old man. In Arth, she played Kulbhushan Kharbanda’s actress girlfriend, for whom he leaves his wife, Shabana Azmi. Her Kavita of Arth is a successful actress who is terrified of losing her married lover. Teetering between sanity and delusional insecurity, guilt and self-assertion, she becomes an obsessive, tantrum-throwing wreck. Shabana had the sympathetic, wronged-woman role,
But Smita had several big dramatic sequences in which her mastery over her art was more than evident. Watch her fascinating range of expressions in scenes like the one of her in front of a mirror where Shabana’s voice haunts her. Or the scene in which she hits Kulbushan and then hits herself.
The mix of emotions she brings to her final breakdown scene before Shabana is amazing: There’s a need to expiate her guilt, there are remnants of arrogance, and there is a pure terror at losing her mind. It’s a startling, high-octane performance that compels admiration. Feminists appreciate Arth for its portrayal of the indecisive man facing rejection and the two women discovering their own paths to fulfillment.
Subah (1983)
Smita shared great chemistry with Girish Karnad in Manthan. They were paired again in Subah, this time as a troubled couple. Director Jabbar Patel made Subah in both Marathi (Umbartha) and Hindi. Released around the same time as Arth, Subah showcased Smita’s versatility. In contrast to Arth’s melodrama, Smita’s performance in Subah was marked by quiet reserve and dignity.
In the film, Smita takes up a job as the superintendent of a Mahila Ashram, far away from home and husband. There are moments of serenity (the wonderful song “Tum Asha Vishwasa Hamare), but Smita alsohas to tackle the demands of a tough job. Her husband, she finds, is not so supportive after all; and Smita eventually finds her strength within her own self. Said to be a personal favorite of Smita’s, Subah is another film with a strong feminist message: All women should discover their own identity. Smita pulls the theme together with her strong central performance.
Aakhir Kyon? (1985)
Smita Patil worked in several acclaimed offbeat films in the mid-1980s, including Kumar Shahani’s Tarang and T. S. Ranga’s Giddh. However, these films had limited theatrical releases and didn’t reach a wide audience. Meanwhile, Smita’s success in commercial films like Ardh Satya and Aaj Ki Awaaz grew, drawing her into mainstream cinema.
Om Prakash’s Aakhir Kyon? is her most significant film from this period. In Aakhir Kyon?, Smita is the wronged wife. Smita’s marriage to Raakesh Roshan crumbles after he has an affair with her cousin, Tina Munim. Thrown into the world, Smita makes a name for herself as a novelist. She also finds a sympathetic friend in Rajesh Khanna.
The story’s core is about Pooja’s reaction when she gains power over her husband. Smita shines as a woman who breaks free from male dominance and finds her own identity. Her theme song, “Dushman Na Kare Dost Ne Woh Kaam Kiya Hai,” is memorable, showcasing her strong performance. In Aakhir Kyon?, Smita delivers a controlled performance, but her signature raw energy seems toned down.
Mirch Masala (1987)
Often mistaken to be Smita’s last film (actually several of her films were released thereafter), Mirch Masala was the first important release after her death. In this superior Ketan Mehta venture, Smita plays the fierySonbai,i who works in a mirchi factory and takes on some of the product’s pungency. She refuses to give in when the tinpot despot of her area (Naseeruddin Shah) casts a covetous eye on her.
He bends every rule in the book to have her while the villagers watch helplessly. Finally, Smita and a group of fellow female workers barricade themselves behind the gates of the factory. Naseer lays siege outside.
The psychology of those under siege — literally and figuratively — is beautifully captured in the film. The complex relationships between the women are well portrayed, capturing both conflict and collaboration. Smita shines as a strong-willed woman who finds her own path, even with a little help from mirchi powder.
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