The Big Screen Whodunit

Vijay Anand's celebrated thriller Teesri Manzil is still recalled and vaunted as a Bollywood benchmark... half a century after its release

It's a class act - a mystery thriller that hooks viewers of every generation, thanks to the fact that it's accessible on DVDs and is often recast on TV channels.

I'm talking about Teesri Manzil, of course, which turns a sparkling 50 years old this year. Produced by the confectioner of feather-light entertainers Nasir Hussain, the timeless classic was directed by Vijay Anand, the cult filmmaker whose song-and-dance picturisations are a masterclass on how to propel the plot further, instead of being foisted on screen as mandatory interludes.
Not surprisingly, Vijay Anand's Guide, Jewel Thief, Johny Mera Naam, Tere Mere Sapne, and Teesri Manzil have amassed a cult following even among the hard-to-please students of the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune. Indeed, Sriram Raghavan, known for his quirky thrillers like Johnny Gaddar and Badlapur, has consistently acknowledged Anand's influence on his work.
If FTII students and graduates worship legendary directors of world cinema, be it Akira Kurosawa, Robert Bresson and Ingmar Bergman, many of them would agree that no one quite compares to Anand when it comes to sheer style and narrative fluidity, in Bollywood's mainstream cinema.
Today, most of the Teesri Manzil team - producer Hussain, leading man Shammi
Kapoor, the larger-than-life Premnath and the iconoclastic music composer R D Burman - are no more. Its heroine, Asha Parekh, has given up acting and is involved in many charitable causes, including ones that handle the welfare of yesteryears' film artistes and technicians.
Ask her to rewind to the year 1966, and her eyebrows shoot up. "That was the best time of my career," she exults. "Besides Teesri Manzil, my films Love in Tokyo, Do Badan and Aaye Din Bahar Ke, were also highly appreciated. They all had fantastic music, strong content and since I scored more than a hat-trick of hits in the space of a year, I came to be known as a lucky mascot in films.
"Anand filmed and edited Teesri Manzil with such slick craftsmanship that I was astonished," she rewinds. "Moreover, he treated his actors like his close friends and gave us the freedom to improvise before the camera. There was none of that customary tension or creative differences. The shoot went like a breeze. And if I may say so, the casting was pitch perfect. Did you know that Salman Khan's father, Salim Khan, also had a brief but pivotal role as a nightclub's band drummer?" When I'd asked Khan Sr about his drummer role, his response was one of sheer embarrassment. Turning beetroot red, he pleaded, "Oh, never remind me of that era when I was pretending to act. For years, I was nervous, sweating profusely when I faced the camera for B-grade swashbucklers like Sarhadi Lootera. Sure, Teesri Manzil was the best one from my stock of 15-odd films as an actor. I guess I lucked out with that one."
So did Shammi Kapoor, actually. Initially, Anand's own brother - actor Dev Anand - had been pencilled in as the hero. But he backed out at the last minute because of differences with producer Hussain, it is claimed. That turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since the Elvis Presley-kind of energetic aplomb Kapoor brought to the musical sequences - particularly in O Haseena Zulfon Wali and Aaja Aaja Main Hoon Pyar Tera - couldn't have been enacted by any other actor of the time.
Teesri Manzil's plot itself, revolving around the intrigue behind a  young woman's suicide or could-it-be-murder, blends romance and a Hitchcockian suspense so effortlessly that it has stood the test of time and altering fads. Quite blasphemously, its key elements were to be subsequently plagiarised in the Himesh Reshammiya travesty titled The Xposé in 2014, directed by Anant Mahadevan. The less you think about that the better.
Gratifyingly, even after half a century, Teesri Manzil is remembered fondly. But I can't help feeling that it has been undervalued. It doesn't feature on the heavy-duty lists of the Best of Bollywood cinema. Well, so be it.
On an entirely different note, there is a residue of regret. Vijay Anand should have extended his artistry as a director. Somewhere along the line, he deviated increasingly towards acting, which was clearly not his calling card. His few recallable films as an actor include Kora Kagaz, Tere Mere Sapne and Main Tulsi Tere Aangan Ki.
Nicknamed Goldie, Anand passed away at the age of 70 in 2004, a man and filmmaker who could have given us many more Teesri Manzils. But then, those weren't the days of star-studded franchises.