Fifty years after possibly the most epoch-defining movie in Indian cinema hit cinemas, Gabbar Singh returns, bringing with him deleted scenes and a "Sholay" you have never seen before.
It was 1975. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency, citing internal and external threats, and there was tight control over the media in those 21 months. Elections were halted, freedoms limited, and opponents and critics jailed. India was under emergency, with tight government surveillance everywhere.
From June 1975 to March 1977, India was under the Emergency, declared by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. She gained special powers to control the country, stop elections, and limit freedoms. Many opponents and critics were jailed. The government said it was needed because of big problems inside the country. It was against this background that "Sholay", a film that pitted outlaws against petty criminals, was released.
On the surface, it was the tale of two hired criminals and a formidable bandit at odds. But beneath lay a saga of lawlessness—the breakdown of legal institutions.
In the original, hitherto unaired climax, retired police officer Thakur Balbir Singh (Sanjeev Kumar), driven by revenge, crushes the bandit Gabbar Singh (Amjad Khan) under his spiked boot. This is because Gabbar had killed most of Thakur's family, and later Singhcut off Thakur's arms.
A former lawman delivering his own brand of justice. The censors during the emergency, fearing this "primitive truth of revenge", did not approve. Director Ramesh Sippy was forced to film an alternate ending: Thakur hands Gabbar over to the police, reinforcing the supremacy of state and law, though at the cost of the film's artistic integrity.
Now, 50 years later, arguably the most-discussed film in Indian cinema returns to the big screen. In Bologna, Italy, on Friday, the fully restored, or director's cut, version of Sholay was screened for the first time at the Il Cinema Ritrovato festival.
Looking back, Sholay's journey wasn't smooth. Initial reviews were brutal: India Today played on the film's name and called it "dead embers", and another paper deemed it "a failed local imitation of the Western genre".
The early days were marked by silent auditoriums. Then word-of-mouth took over. RD Burman's music and the sharp dialogue of the Salim–Javed duo stuck in people's minds. When the film's dialogues were released on audiotapes, a social explosion followed. Phrases like "Kitne aadmi the? (How many men did you encounter)" and "Tera kya hoga, "Kalia[Viju Khote]"? (What will happen to you, Kalia[Viju Khote]?)" rang out from tea shops to political rallies. Sholay transcended cinema and became a cultural phenomenon, indeed a milestone in Indian cinema.
The central friendship of Jai (Amitabh Bachchan) and Veeru (Dharmendra) became a model for a generation. When they sang "Yeh dosti hum nahi todenge" (This is a friendship we won't break)"—they, and the film's audience, were bound by an invisible bond. You probably recall the coin tosses between the two friends, a refrain throughout the 204-minute epic, which Veeru somehow keeps winning. The heartbreak of the widowed Radha (Jaya Bhaduri) losing her beloved for the second time in a young life is fresh in the viewer's mind 50 years later. You also remember how that culminated in a poignant expression of sacrifice embedded in true friendship.
Then came "Sholay's" most talked-about character, Gabbar Singh. This villain redefined what a cinematic villain could be. Amjad Khan's menacing laugh, gravelly voice, and cruel gaze still send chills down the spine. "Kitne aadmi the?" wasn't just about counting men—it was a sneering challenge to the system. In this new version, more of Gabbar's brutality, once deemed unacceptable by censors, will be shown. Perhaps we'll finally see the infamous scene: as he says, "Yeh haath mujhe de de Thakur (Give me these hands of yours, Thakur)", Gabbar himself cuts off Thakur's hands.
Yet Sholay's magic isn't limited to its story or dialogue. It was a technical masterpiece. On the 70mm screen, the "Ramgarh" landscape looked breathtaking. It's often called India's first "curry Western". Though inspired by "Sergio Leone's spaghetti Westerns", Sippy rendered it thoroughly Indian. And "R D Burman's" score? It's practically another character. The background music during the train robbery or the intoxicating "Mehbooba Mehbooba" still lingers in one's ears today.
The restoration itself reads like a drama. The original 70mm prints had vanished. The negatives were nearly destroyed. Finally, a search expedition headed by film restoration expert "Shivendra Singh" Dungarpur of the "Film Heritage Foundation", found a 35mm negative in a Mumbai warehouse. With help from the British Film Institute, other materials surfaced in the UK.The original Bologna-based laboratory "La Imaging Retrovata" carried out the painstaking restoration.
One may ask, why is "Sholay still so relevant after 50 years?" Film star "Bachchan's" answer is most succinct and profound: "Because, within three hours, it delivers poetic justice that we may never see in our lifetime." The new version might present that poetic justice in its most powerful and brutal form, forcing us to ask:" where exactly does justice end and revenge begin? They say a 'good' film hides a certain truth within. Fifty years is a long time. Film language has changed, audiences have changed, and multiple generations have passed—but even now, "Sholay", with its blazing fury, keeps asking questions of the status quo.
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