Kabrastan (1988)

It’s hardly surprising that the Bollywood horror cycle came to a shuddering halt during the early 90’s considering some of the astonishing rubbish that was being churned out towards the end. Mohan Bhakri, competing fiercely with Vinod Talwar for the title of Crown Prince of Indian Horror (the Ramsays remaining firmly enthroned as Kings), mounted a sizeable publicity campaign for his latest horror opus, but audiences reacted with spectacular indifference and the film disappeared from cinemas almost as quickly as it arrived.

The cast consists of the usual suspects; Raza Murad, Javed Khan, Kunika, Jagdeep and an assortment of hopeful newcomers, faded veterans and familiar horror stalwarts. Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the credits is the presence of songs by Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle with lyrics by Nida Fazli. Such distinguished names seem oddly misplaced in a production of this nature, rather like employing a symphony orchestra to accompany a village wrestling match.

The story centres upon Raza Murad as a deranged surgeon whose obsession with medical glory gradually pushes him beyond the limits of ethics, decency and common sense. Convinced that he is a misunderstood genius destined to revolutionise modern medicine, Murad begins conducting increasingly dangerous experiments upon his patients.

Unfortunately for them, the experiments seldom end well.

As his work progresses he discovers that stale corpses are unsuitable for his purposes and therefore develops a pressing need for fresher specimens. Before long he abandons any pretence of professional responsibility and turns to outright murder in order to secure suitable material for his research.

His perpetually anxious wife begins to suspect that something is terribly wrong but receives little reward for her concern beyond being ordered back to the kitchen and reminded of her place in the household hierarchy.

Meanwhile the children are subjected to a series of supernatural warnings when a paintbrush develops the unsettling habit of writing threatening messages on the walls in blood-red paint. Rather than investigate, Murad responds by thrashing the children for telling stories.

One can hardly blame the ghost for becoming annoyed.

As Murad sinks deeper into madness, the restless spirit of one of his victims begins targeting the family in a campaign of revenge. Unfortunately, what sounds reasonably promising on paper turns into a desperately sluggish and uninvolving experience on screen.

Not that sluggishness is anything unusual in Bollywood horror.

What is unusual is that this time Bhakri has chosen to dispense with the traditional hairy beast, rubber-faced monster or man in a bear suit. Instead he proudly announced that the film’s “real monster” would be the camera itself through the use of point-of-view photography.

What a swindle.

The audience turns up expecting a monster and receives a camera angle.

Not surprisingly, audiences responded with a resounding thumbs down.

The absence of anything remotely monstrous becomes even more problematic when one considers the alternative attractions on offer. Jagdeep once again arrives to inflict his uniquely exhausting brand of comedy upon the proceedings, subjecting viewers to endless stretches of humour so infantile that even nursery school children might begin demanding something more sophisticated.

Even worse is the sight of the once mighty Amjad Khan reduced to playing a grubby pervert in what amounts to an extended supporting role opposite Jagdeep. For those who remember his towering performance as Gabbar Singh in Sholay, witnessing this decline is a genuinely depressing experience.

One cannot help but wonder what he himself made of the script.

The film’s greatest achievement is perhaps that it manages to make ninety minutes feel like an entire geological era. Events unfold with such crushing slowness that reaching the final reel begins to resemble an endurance test rather than a viewing experience.

Even the songs fail to help matters. Despite the presence of legendary playback singers, the musical interludes feel strangely disconnected from the surrounding material, as though they have wandered into the wrong film by mistake.

Bhakri has produced some dreadful films over the years but Kabrastan ranks among his very worst. It lacks atmosphere, suspense, excitement, memorable monsters, effective horror scenes or indeed any discernible reason for existing.

An unforgivably tedious and thoroughly wretched piece of rubbish which succeeds only in giving even the gloriously disreputable world of Bollywood horror a bad name.