Chudail No.1 (1999)

It has surely been scientifically proven by now that any film containing the word Chudail in its title is destined to follow a very specific horror formula. Therefore, do not be remotely surprised if everything feels just a little familiar in this zero-budget slasher extravaganza.

The film begins rather delightfully with a hot young thing receiving menacing phone calls in a manner that immediately brings Scream to mind. However, this time it isn’t the boyfriend outside with a knife pressed to his throat, but poor Daddy Malhotra Sahib instead. The sinister voice on the phone demands “File No.10” and warns that unless she finds and delivers it before the count of ten, her father will effectively be gutted like a fish.

The poor girl rushes around in a blind panic desperately searching for the mysterious file, but sadly to no avail. Daddy is hacked and sliced to death mercilessly while she can do nothing but watch. She then attempts to escape the gang of sadistic goons who have cornered her, and once again in true Scream fashion, she is brutally cut down just when you begin hoping she might somehow survive. The villains casually stroll away, leaving the poor innocent girl to die alone in the cold.

The story then shifts to Inspector Vicky, who is introducing his girlfriend to his mother in the hope of receiving her blessing for a speedy marriage. Everything works out remarkably smoothly and, within what feels like minutes, the happy couple are married and settling into domestic bliss.

However, news of Vicky’s sudden transfer to Bombay causes a strangely dramatic reaction from his new wife. Is there something about her past that we are unaware of? Some skeleton rattling away in the cupboard perhaps?

The couple head off to Bombay, move into a comfortable new home, and Vicky takes charge of his new police precinct, carrying out his duties with almost Rajnikanth-level efficiency. It does not take long before his cute female sub-inspector is swooning hopelessly and daydreaming about her handsome new boss.

Meanwhile, the sleazy gang responsible for the murder of the girl from the opening sequence begin discovering that a mysterious white-sari-clad woman wandering the misty streets at night singing “Pehchano main kaun hoon” is a very bad omen indeed.

But surely it cannot be?
She was dead.  And yet…the white sari, the swirling mist, the haunting song, the flowing open hair — all the classic signs are unmistakably present.

The police soon discover, much to everyone’s shock, that the mysterious woman appears to be none other than Inspector Vicky’s new wife. However, their marriage has already started turning rather chilly, especially since Vicky seems to have developed feelings for his attractive sub-inspector.

In fact, there are moments where he almost appears to be hoping that his wife really is the mysterious serial killer roaming the streets at night and chopping people to pieces in spectacularly brutal fashion.

Is Vicky framing his innocent wife? Or is she truly the vengeful killer everyone believes her to be?

The mystery eventually reaches its conclusion, though not without a twist or two thrown in along the way.

Chudail is, without question, a truly dreadful movie made on a budget consisting almost entirely of enthusiasm and very little else. Ishrat Ali is instantly recognisable, and it is nice to see that he managed to survive in the industry for so many years, though slightly depressing to witness the sort of material he had to endure. Mac Mohan also turns up somewhere along the way, as do several familiar B-grade villains from years gone by.  Sad and more than shocked to see the fall from grace of Raj Kiran.  Once a substantial star and well respected and liked by audiences wherever Bollywood films are watched, now reduced to the dregs.  A demise that resulted in severe depression and disappearance from the scene altogether only to be discovered later in a mental asylum in New York City.  A tragic arc for a man with an envious body of work behind in from the 1980s where he starred alongside the biggest names of Indian cinema.  

To its credit, there isn’t a rubber monster mask anywhere in sight, nor does the film resort to the usual desperate tactic of throwing women endlessly into showers, swimming pools and bathtubs simply to provide cheap thrills.

That does not, unfortunately, make Chudail a good film.

It remains utterly rotten.

Yet somehow its heart appears to be in the right place. The ghastly acting, terrible dance numbers, bargain-basement production values and general air of enthusiastic incompetence combine to make the experience strangely tolerable.

It also helps enormously that the running time is mercifully short.

A terrible film? Absolutely.

But for those who are either incredibly stoic, deeply masochistic, or hopelessly addicted to the bizarre charms of desi horror trash, there is just enough here to drag you across the finish line.