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45 years of Red Rose, a chilling psychotic thriller

  Direction :- Bharthi Raaja Starcast :- Rajesh Khanna, Poonam Dhillon, Om Shivpuri, Aruna Irani, Padmini Kapila and Satyen Kappu Music :-...


 

Direction :- Bharthi Raaja


Starcast :- Rajesh Khanna, Poonam Dhillon, Om Shivpuri, Aruna Irani, Padmini Kapila and Satyen Kappu


Music :- R D Burman


Released on 6th June 1980, *Red Rose* stands as a unique entry in Bollywood’s cinematic landscape, marking the industry’s first foray into the chilling realm of a psychotic serial killer. Directed by P. Bharathiraja, this Hindi-language psychological thriller is a remake of his own Tamil hit Sigappu Rojakkal (1978). Starring the reigning superstar Rajesh Khanna alongside Poonam Dhillon, with supporting roles by Aruna Irani, Om Shivpuri, and Satyen Kappu, *Red Rose* diverges sharply from the family-oriented romantic dramas that dominated Bollywood at the time. While it retains elements of romance, the film’s dark exploration of a disturbed mind set it apart, making it a bold experiment that didn’t fully resonate with audiences but left an indelible mark on the industry’s history.

 

Storyline


Red Rose centres on Anand (Rajesh Khanna), a wealthy businessman living a seemingly idyllic life in Bombay, running his company, Export India, from a palatial home. Beneath this polished exterior lies a sinister secret: Anand is a misogynistic serial killer who preys on young women, seducing them, murdering them, and burying their bodies in his garden, where he plants rosebushes as macabre memorials. His actions are recorded on video, watched by his adoptive father (Satyen Kappu), a fellow woman-hater crippled by his own past traumas, who lives secluded in a guest house on the property.

 

The plot takes a turn when Anand meets Sharda (Poonam Dhillon), a conservative sales clerk at Roopsagar Clothing Store. Smitten, he proposes marriage, and she accepts, unaware of his deadly nature. Sharda moves into his mansion, setting up a Devi Maa Durga Mandir, symbolizing her traditional values. Her idyllic new life unravels when she stumbles upon Anand’s dark secret—first spotting a body in the garden, then discovering his father and gardener (Om Shivpuri) reveling in snuff films. As she uncovers the roots of Anand’s psychosis, tied to a traumatic past, Sharda must confront the horrifying reality and escape his clutches. The narrative blends romance with psychological horror, offering a stark commentary on misogyny and retribution, though its predictability and heavy-handed moralizing temper its suspense.

 

Direction and Other Technical Departments


P. Bharathiraja’s direction brings a distinct South Indian sensibility to Bollywood, infusing *Red Rose* with a gritty, atmospheric tone uncommon in Hindi cinema of the era. His experience with *Sigappu Rojakkal* shines through in the film’s pacing and mood, though the transition to a Hindi audience feels uneven at times. Bharathiraja employs lurid visuals—red hues dominate, reflecting the title and Anand’s obsession—while maintaining a sense of claustrophobic tension within the mansion’s confines. However, the film’s reliance on melodrama and overt theatricality occasionally undercuts its thriller aspirations.

 

The cinematography by P.S. Nivas, who also shot the Tamil original, enhances the eerie ambiance with stark lighting and tight framing, particularly in the murder sequences and Sharda’s moments of discovery. The editing keeps the 2-hour-5-minute runtime engaging, though some scenes linger unnecessarily, a nod to Bollywood’s penchant for emotional excess. The production design, from Anand’s opulent yet sinister home to the garden of buried secrets, effectively mirrors his dual nature. Sound design, while not revolutionary, amplifies the tension with a haunting score, though it lacks subtlety. Overall, the technical execution is competent but tethered to the conventions of its time, limiting its potential as a groundbreaking thriller.

 

Music and Performances


The music, composed by R.D. Burman, is a surprising highlight in a film so steeped in darkness. With only two songs—“Tere Bin Jeena Kya, Tere Bin Marna Kya,” sung by Kishore Kumar and Asha Bhosle, the soundtrack is sparse but impactful. The romantic duet, "Kiski Sadayein" penned by Vithalbhai Patel and Nida Fazli, captures Sharda’s initial bliss, contrasting sharply with the film’s grim undertones. While not as iconic as Burman’s other works, the music adds emotional depth, though its placement feels somewhat forced in a narrative driven by suspense.

 

Rajesh Khanna’s performance as Anand is a daring departure from his romantic hero persona. He brings a menacing swagger to the role, balancing charm with an unsettling edge, though he lacks the raw intensity of Kamal Haasan’s portrayal in the Tamil original. Poonam Dhillon shines as Sharda, her wide-eyed innocence evolving into steely resolve, making her a compelling counterpoint to Anand’s darkness. Satyen Kappu’s portrayal of the deranged father is chillingly over-the-top, while Aruna Irani, Padmini Kapila and Om Shivpuri deliver solid support, adding layers to the film’s unsettling world. The ensemble’s chemistry drives the narrative, though Khanna’s star power occasionally overshadows the collective effort.

 

Red Rose holds a singular place in Bollywood history as the industry’s first film to center on a psychotic serial killer, a bold leap that challenged the family-friendly romantic norms of 1980s Hindi cinema. While it didn’t achieve commercial success—its “Adults Only” tag and unconventional premise alienated mainstream audiences—it remains a fascinating artifact of experimentation. Bharathiraja’s direction, paired with strong performances from Rajesh Khanna and Poonam Dhillon, crafts a tale that’s equal parts romance and horror, though its reliance on melodrama and dated tropes keeps it from fully realizing its potential as a thriller. The haunting music and technical craftsmanship elevate its impact, making it a cult curiosity for cinephiles. Ultimately, *Red Rose* is a flawed yet pioneering effort, a crimson-stained footnote in Bollywood’s evolution that dared to bloom where others feared to tread.

 


By Ayushmaan Mitra

 

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