Guns & Thighs: The Story of My Life
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In these delightfully candid musings about his life and his cinema, Rgv reveals the man behind pioneering Telugu and Hindi films such as Shiva, Rangeela, Satya, Sarkar, Bhoot and Company. Discussing a wide range of subjects, from the influences and circumstances that drew him to films to his cinematic techniques, his successful and unsuccessful films, his Bollywood idols, his relations with the media and the controversies dogging him, Guns & Thighs is as much about Rgv's life and philosophy of life as about his films and the Indian film world. Characteristically, he pulls no punches, whether he's talking about movies, women or the media. Even when it comes to his own films, he embraces his failures as much his successes and dissects them with rare honesty and humility. Refreshingly contrarian and politically incorrect, this book discloses a perspective as colourful and larger than life as Indian films. It is not for Rgv fans alone but for all those passionate about cinema and the people associated with it.
of at least 10,000, just staring at her bungalow throughout the night. There were about fifty local toughs along with a 100-strong police force continuously deployed to guard her. When we were on location, we used to know when Sridevi had started from her bungalow to come to location, because we could see a column of dust travelling towards us from the distance. The dust was kicked up by the thousands of people running behind her car. Well anyway, to cut the long, touching story of my feelings
and make my film right now, than endlessly plan in the hope of it becoming a masterpiece. Incidentally, the longest time I have taken and maximum money I have spent in my career are on three films—Daud, Aag and Department—which are three of my biggest flops. I rest my case. Chapter 2 Dustbin Fortunes Cycle 1 WHEN I WAS TRYING to get a break, I used to attend the music composing sessions of a film which was being made by director B. Gopal at the time. In the course of those sessions,
and couldn’t, and then realized he was dead. I took out my cell phone, which was working, and called up Shekar in Mumbai. After I told him Vidya was dead, my cousin sleepily asked, ‘Are you sure?’ I stopped short because I realized that I was just conveying what Niwas had told me. I asked Niwas, ‘Are you sure?’ This made Niwas also unsure and he said, ‘He was not moving, for sure.’ I said, ‘Maybe he is just unconscious.’ This made Niwas even more unsure, and so Niwas and I trudged through the
went on this trip of literally interpreting shots and dialogues and scenes, and completely forgot the basic emotional connect of the film, which was the only thing that would have made a sequel work. When I was disssecting each of the shots and scenes, people around me also came under the spell and I started thinking that maybe over the years Sholay had completely broken up into audio-visual bytes. You still remembered lines from it, made caricaturish characters from it and remembered particular
excitement when tragic things happen. The more horrific the better, as they will grab more eyeballs. Similarly, if someone famous trips up, they delight in it. Have you noticed the pleasure they get in ripping apart films or people’s character? But the film people are worse. For all the anger filmwallahs display against critics, it is actually they, excepting obviously the targets of the bitching and ripping, who enjoy and relish the nasty and bitchy comments or reviews much more than the