Starcast :- Shoma Anand, Vikram, Raj Kiran, Mithun Chakraborty, C S Dubey, Mac Mohan, Ramesh Deo, Seema Deo, and Birbal Music :- Bapp...
Starcast :- Shoma Anand, Vikram, Raj Kiran, Mithun Chakraborty, C S Dubey, Mac Mohan, Ramesh Deo, Seema Deo, and Birbal
Music :- Bappi Lahiri
Direction :- I V Sasi
Patita (released in December 1980),is a Hindi drama directed by
I.V. Sasi that’s got a lot of heart but not quite enough punch to leave a
lasting mark. I recently watched this one on a lazy Sunday, expecting a gritty,
emotional ride. It’s a remake of Sasi’s own Malayalam film Avalude Ravukal
(1978), and it stars Shoma Anand as the lead, with Mithun Chakraborty, Raj
Kiran, and Vikram playing key roles. While it has some moments that stick with
you, it’s a bit of a mixed bag.
The story centers on Rajni (Shoma Anand), a young
woman who’s had a rough go at life. After losing her parents, she’s forced into
prostitution to survive, which sets the stage for a tale about sacrifice, love,
and redemption. The word “Patita” translates to “fallen woman” , so you know
the film’s diving into some heavy social commentary. Rajni’s life is a cycle of
hardship—she’s got a kid brother to look after, and when tragedy strikes him
too, her faith in humanity takes a nosedive. Enter three guys who fall for her:
a rich, boozy playboy (Mithun Chakraborty), a guilt-ridden schoolteacher
(Vikram), and a sweet, naive college student (Raj Kiran). Each brings something
different to the table, and the film tries to explore whether love can pull
Rajni out of her despair.
First off, Shoma Anand does a solid job as Rajni.
She’s got this quiet strength that makes you root for her, even when the script
doesn’t give her much to work with. You can feel her pain and resilience,
especially in scenes where she’s grappling with her circumstances. But here’s
the thing—the movie doesn’t dig deep enough into her inner world. It sets up
this complex character, a woman who’s been dealt a brutal hand, but it often
settles for melodrama over nuance. You’re left wanting more insight into what
makes Rajni tick beyond her suffering.
The three suitors are where things get interesting
but also a bit messy. Mithun Chakraborty, playing the spoiled rich guy with a
heart of gold, steals the show in his entry scene. Picture this: he’s grooving
to Boney M ish number in full disco mode, strutting like he’s auditioning for
Disco Dancer (which, fun fact, he’d star in two years later). It’s pure Mithun
of the early 80s—charismatic, and impossible to look away from. Sadly, his
character’s arc fizzles out. He’s a drunk who loves Rajni but meets a predictable
end due to his lifestyle. It’s a shame because Mithun’s energy could’ve carried
more of the film.
Raj Kiran’s college student is the polar
opposite—earnest, innocent, and almost too good to be true. His simplicity is
meant to be the heart of the story, and he’s the one who ultimately wins Rajni
over. It’s sweet, although it feels a bit too convenient, like the film’s
saying, “Here’s the nice guy, problem solved.” Vikram’s schoolteacher,
meanwhile, is tied to a subplot about Rajni’s brother that feels forced and
doesn’t land the emotional punch it’s aiming for. The dynamic between these
three guys and Rajni could’ve been a fascinating love triangle (or
quadrangle?), but the film doesn’t quite know how to balance them.
Visually, Patita is standard for its time. The
cinematography by Ramachandra Babu is functional but not particularly striking.
The sets and costumes scream early ‘80s Bollywood—think loud patterns and dimly
lit rooms. The music, scored by Bappi Lahiri, has a couple of catchy tracks,
like the mildly sensuous 'Honthon Pe Jaan Chali Aayegi' sung by Kishore Kumar and 'Iss Zamaane Mein Hai' sung by Lata Mangeshkar, but they’re not exactly
chart-toppers you’ll be humming days later. The song 'Dil Dhak Dhak Karne Laga' (Kishore Kumar but who else) is
the real standout, mostly because it’s so unexpected in a heavy drama like
this.
Now, here’s where Patita stumbles. It’s trying to
tackle big themes—poverty, societal judgment, the struggle for redemption—but
it doesn’t go far enough. Compared to B.R. Ishaara’s Chetna (1970), which also
dealt with a sex worker’s life, Patita feels shallow. Chetna had a rawness and
boldness that made it stand out; Patita plays it safer, leaning on clichés like
the “good-hearted fallen woman” and the “pure love saves all” angles.
The pacing doesn’t help either. At just over two
hours, it’s not overly long for a Bollywood film, but it drags in parts,
especially when the focus shifts to the suitors’ backstories. The editing
(Narendra Arora) could’ve been tighter to keep the momentum going. And while
the supporting cast—Mac Mohan, Ramesh Deo, Seema Deo, and others—does fine,
they’re mostly there to fill out the world rather than add depth.
So, overall Patita isn’t a bad film, but it’s not a
great one either. It’s got a compelling lead in Shoma Anand and a few memorable
moments (Mithun dancing, and the innocent charm of Raj Kiran anyone?), but it
doesn’t live up to its potential. It wants to say something profound about
society and redemption but ends up stuck in familiar Bollywood territory. If
you’re a fan of ‘80s Hindi cinema or Mithun’s early work, it’s worth a watch
for the nostalgia. Its decent, but don’t expect to be blown away.
By Ayushmaan Mitra
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