Readers Write In #773: Mera Naam Joker (1970)—A Portrait of a Self-Pitying Clown

By Anand Sinha

A joker invites the three women he once loved to watch his last show and reflects on the trials and tribulations of life.

Director: Raj Kapoor Writer: Khwaja Ahmad Abbas Cast: Raj Kapoor, Rishi Kapoor, Simi Garewal, Padmini, Kseniya Ryabinkina, Dharmendra, Manoj Kumar, Rajendra Kumar, Achala Sachdev Language: Hindi

2024 marked the centenary of Indian cinema’s “Greatest Showman” Raj Kapoor (1924-1988). The Kapoor family met Prime Minister Narendra Modi to invite him to the celebrations. The news obviously revolved around the Prime Minister. Guess who is the showman now!

Well, the Bollywood showman produced, directed and acted in several iconic films, including Aag (1948), Awaara (1951), Shree 420 (1955), and Mera Naam Joker (1970). Kapoor’s Chaplinesque performances earned him a following not only in India, but in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Eastern Europe. In fact, an academic from the Middle East once visiting IIT Kanpur initiated a discussion around Raj Kapoor with me and my friends (my school was located within the IIT-K campus). His generation adored this superstar from India.

In remembrance of the showman, we revisit Kapoor’s most ambitious project, Mera Naam Joker. The melodrama which failed miserably at the box office when it was released in 1970 is considered one of the best works of Indian popular cinema.

Mera Naam Joker is the cinematic exposition of the Shakespearean dictum, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Raj Kapoor plays the eponymous joker who isn’t short of philosophical utterings, much like the Shakespearean fool. He is even a vidushak,a clown, who humbles others with his wit. His well-articulated wisdom and deep humanity, penned in detail by Kapoor’s close associate Khwaja Ahmed Abbas, saves the character from becoming Todd Phillips’ deadly joker, despite plenty of self-pity.

The film begins with a procession in Bombay that looks like a political demonstration announcing the joker’s last show. Thus begins the opening credit, everything about which—from its typeset to musical theme—is grandiose. The rest of the film is no different.

Raju is a famous joker who is performing for the last time. He has invited three women he loved once, all of whose names begin with M: Mary (Garewal), Marina (Ryabinkina), and Meena (Padmini).

In the performance, other clowns conduct a surgery on the joker because his heart is growing so big that it can accommodate a large number of people. The inflated balloon heart looks the shape of vagina whose owners always abandon Raju as we will discover. The film is henceforth told in flashbacks.

The teenagar Raju (Rishi Kapoor) is a student at an upscale school in a nondescript hill station and lives with his widowed mother. He is a class clown; a scene in which the obese boy’s shorts get ripped is laugh-out-loud funny. Like every schoolboy, he develops his first crush on a newly joined teacher, the angelic Miss Mary. He tells her that he is poor, even if the house he lives in hardly looks like a poor man’s abode. Despite his mother’s warning, Raju wants to become a joker and make the ever-dejected Lord Jesus laugh. On a class picnic with Miss Mary, the boy has a sexual awakening. He even tells her that he is not a child. Raju is soon expelled for not paying his fees. Miss Mary marries and leaves with David (Manoj Kumar) who returns the puppet joker that Raju had once gifted to his teacher.

In the second chapter, the film asks the viewers to see a young Raju in a much older Raj Kapoor. An Indo-Soviet circus is going to perform in Bombay and thanks to his outfit, Raju gets mistaken for one of the Russian performers. His lie is soon discovered but Marina’s intervention and the circus owner Mahendra Kumar’s (Dharmendra) kindness lands him a job at the circus. In no time, he becomes a popular joker. Raju and Marina fall in love; her ethereal beauty could very well belong to a black-and-white Russian art-house film. He domesticates her in a saree before taking her to meet his mother. Later, she returns the puppet joker he gifted her to his mother. Right after Raju’s mother dies watching Raju perform as a joker, Mahendra shockingly asks him to perform his set. This is what they call toxic work culture, right? The joker cries fountains of tears in a creative and genuinely heartbreaking scene. His first adult romance also gets interrupted when Marina leaves along with her troupe for Russia.

In the film’s third and last chapter, we find Raju in Madras where he befriends Meenu Master (Padmini) and his dog Moti. Meenu is a street smart urchin who doesn’t shy away from wielding a knife. The trio soon form a circus and perform in the city until Meenu Master is revealed to be Meena, a woman. The two fall in love with each other, Raju again domesticates the woman in a saree, and gifts her the same puppet joker. The duo begin performing qawwali before abandoning it for musical theatre. Hindi film superstar Rajendra Kumar, who plays himself, sees a real artist in Meena. An ambitious and opportunistic upstart, Meenu chooses the superstar instead of the joker and goes on to become a superstar herself.

In the epilogue, Raju the joker collects the shards of his broken heart and leaves. Even a cynic will be left teary-eyed or at least with a lump in the throat.

This Raj Kapoor film is a well-produced melodrama and I don’t use the term “melodrama” pejoratively. Though self-indulgent, it’s not another vanity project of a superstar. The film has its heart in the right place and is engaging in most parts. The superstar leverages his stardom in several meta moments referencing his previous films such as Awaara and Shree 420 that featured his iconic desi tramp character.

The performances are quite moving, though melodramatic—but that’s the form. Dharmendra and Manoj Kumar seemed to underplay their characters and they shine. Ryabinkina underplays her character so much that she feels out of place. Rishi Kapoor gives an earnest performance in his debut and successfully channels a teenager’s emotional turmoil and confusion.

Radhu Karmakar captures the director’s majestic vision with several wide-angle shots. He brilliantly captures the dark, dramatic hues of the sky above the desert, mirroring Raju’s emotional turmoil. Karmakar is teasing enough yet not voyeuristic in capturing the sensuality of both Garewal and Pamini. Alas, the film’s cinematic grandeur can best be experienced in a cinema hall.

Legendary lyricists Shailendra, Hasrat Jaipuri, and Neeraj penned the film’s philosophical songs that reflect on the vagaries of life. The songs composed by Shankar-Jaikishan are sung by Manna Dey, Mukesh, Md. Rafi, and Asha Bhosle. A lot of us still hum songs like “Jane Kahan Gaye Wo Din,” “Jeena Yahan Marna Yahan,” and “Ae Bhai Zara Dekh Ke Chalo.”

However, the film is over three hours long and watching it can be a tedious experience. The repetitive template in the three chapters doesn’t help either. But perfection is a rare accomplishment.