‘Jewel Thief’ to ‘Soch’: The best and worst Hindi film adaptations of Alfred Hitchcock thrillers

Few filmmakers have cast as long and defining a shadow over cinematic storytelling as Alfred Hitchcock. The ‘Master of Suspense’ did not just shape Hollywood thrillers but carved out a grammar for psychological tension, voyeurism, mistaken identity and moral ambiguity. While his films were rooted in Western social and cultural anxieties, their cinematic universality has influenced filmmakers globally, including in India. Long drawn to melodrama, musicality and moral dichotomies, Bollywood has occasionally dipped into Hitchcockian territory, sometimes with homage, sometimes with heavy adaptation. But how well has Hindi cinema interpreted or reimagined Hitchcock?

In Shyam Benegal’s Mammo (1994), scripted by Khalid Mohamed, a 13-year-old boy who lives with his grandmother and grandaunt, plays hooky from school to watch Psycho. Since the film is rated for adults only, the boy and his friend don burqas to gain access to Bombay’s Chitra cinema. To bypass the copyright issues arising out of showing a clip of the shower scene, the filmmaker hit upon the idea of using Bernhard Herrmann’s chilling score. As Benegal mentioned in an interview, ‘I guess the music is so clearly Hitchcockian that the point won’t be lost on the audience.’

Years before Mammo, Vidhu Vinod Chopra paid homage to the shower scene in his Khamosh (1986) – this time playing on the television in a hotel room. We have also had Subhash Ghai, who pops up for cameos in the movies he has directed, a la Hitchcock.

From Rebecca (1940) to Kohraa (1964) and Anamika: The Untold Story (2014)

Directed by Biren Nag and produced by Hemant Kumar, Kohraa is arguably the most faithful of all Hindi adaptations of Hitchcock’s work. Waheeda Rehman plays the shy, new bride of the mansion owner (Biswajeet), only to be consumed by the mystery surrounding the death of his first wife, Poonam. The film retains many elements from Rebecca: the aloof husband, the obsessive housekeeper (Lalita Pawar in a version of Mrs Danvers), and the haunting presence of the dead first wife. But Kohraa inserts a supernatural element, veering into ghost story territory, something Hitchcock studiously avoided.

What Kohraa gains is a thick atmosphere of dread, aided by noir-tinged cinematography and Hemant Kumar’s haunting score (especially ‘Jhoom Jhoom Dhalti Raat’). However, it loses Hitchcock’s psychological subtlety. The ambiguity that made Rebecca so unsettling – was the narrator paranoid, or was Rebecca’s ghost really there in some form? – is replaced by a more melodramatic, moralistic explanation.

Still, Kohraa is a striking example of how a film can remain loyal to a narrative skeleton while grafting onto it the emotional language of another culture. As a Gothic thriller with a Hitchcockian template, it works, though it often trades nuance for shock.

Fifty years after Kohraa, Ananth Mahadevan’s Anamika: The Untold Story set out to reimagine Rebecca but the result is a pale, plodding shadow of its source. Where Rebecca was a masterclass in Gothic atmosphere – its Manderley steeped in mist, memory and menace – Anamika reduces the grandeur to television serial melodrama. The characters, stripped of the complexity that made Daphne du Maurier’s and Hitchcock’s creations immortal, behave like stock archetypes in a pulp thriller. Hitchcock’s Rebecca thrives on suggestion, on what remains unsaid; Anamika spells out everything, flattening mystery into monotony. It is less an homage than an affront, a reminder that Gothic storytelling withers when robbed of its shadows and subtleties.

The Films of Vijay Anand

While Kohraa might remain the most faithful of Hitchcock’s Hindi adaptations, the Hollywood auteur’s influence was visible in earlier films including Kamal Amrohi’s Mahal (1949) and Asit Sen’s Apradhi Kaun? (1957). However, two directors in peak form in the 1960s epitomised Hitchcock’s influence on Hindi cinema: Vijay Anand and Raj Khosla.

Vijay Anand’s Jewel Thief is often cited as one of the finest thrillers of Hindi cinema. Though not a direct remake, it owes a conceptual debt to North by Northwest. While also incorporating elements from To Catch a Thief (1955) – Dev Anand plays a man who bears a striking resemblance to a notorious jewel thief – and Vertigo (1958), with Dev Anand’s character suffering from a nervous disorder much like James Stewart in Vertigo.

What Vijay Anand does brilliantly is localise Hitchcock’s play with identity and deception. Jewel Thief substitutes Cold War paranoia with the glamour of a diamond heist, wraps it in opulence, and sets it to SD Burman’s iconic score. Tanuja, Vyjayanthimala and Helen add a femme fatale allure, turning the film into an espionage-meets-heist-romantic-thriller cocktail. While Hitchcock’s suspense was cerebral and psychologically layered, Jewel Thief leans on spectacle and stylisation. The editing, production design and music sequences (especially ‘Hothon Mein Aisi Baat’) are as much tools of deception as any of the plot devices.

It might not match the tautness of Hitchcock but in terms of sheer cinematic flair, it is a dazzling homage. Richard Allen, professor of cinema studies, New York University, described it as the best adaptation of Hitchcock to come out of Bollywood.

Though not an overt remake, Vijay Anand’s Teesri Manzil draws inspiration from Hitchcock’s style – murder mystery in a glamorous setting, suspense layered with romance, mistaken identities, and psychological games. Stylistically ahead of its time – camerawork, pacing, red herrings – Anand channels Hitchcock’s flair for setting-based suspense. Shammi Kapoor’s casting as both charmer and suspect echoes Hitchcock’s use of Cary Grant. The narrative misleads viewers with skill and unveils the truth with calculated restraint. However, the comic interludes and songs, though memorable, dilute narrative tension. It remains a thriller that adapts Hitchcockian form rather than substance.

The Films of Raj Khosla

Raj Khosla’s Woh Kaun Thi?, Mera Saaya and Anita have been touted for their strong Hitchcockian influence. They feature a mysterious atmosphere, suspenseful plots and iconic female characters, all reminiscent of Hitchcock’s style. Who better than the director’s official biographer Amborish Roychoudhury to speak about this.

As Amborish says: “They shared some common elements: suspense and build-up, emphasis on female characters, wrong man being framed. There were even some shots that were reminiscent of Hitchcock’s films. Having said that, neither Raj nor any of his assistants ever indicated that he was particularly or specifically inspired by Hitchcock. In fact, Mahesh Bhatt saab mentioned Frank Capra a lot, and I personally found traces of Billy Wilder in him, especially from the standpoint of navigating so many disparate genres with ease. But Woh Kaun Thi, Anita and Mera Saaya could be called Hitchcockian in that those films had elements which were also present in Hitchcock’s work.”

“There’s a man in Woh Kaun Thi who keeps reappearing throughout the movie. He doesn’t have much to do with the plot but he had a crooked face… Khosla used these kinds of things to great advantage. It also had elements of horror. The opening credits and Manoj’s first visit to the abandoned mansion to see the ‘disappearing’ patient echoes Psycho. Khosla employed elements that might be reminiscent of Hitchcock’s work, at least with regard to the suspense films he made. Though the plots themselves had nothing to do with Hitchcock’s films. They were not copies or remakes.”

Amborish continues: “Both Vijay Anand and Raj Khosla’s filmmaking depended on a lot of Indian kitschy elements for impact – the songs, the bling, Dev Anand. But even devoid of those, there are moments in Khosla’s films that are pure Hitchcock. Like the opening of Mera Saaya. We see the wife die. And then a woman comes and claims she is the wife.”

Jal Mahal (1980): Vertigo Reimagined and Ruined

R. Jhalani’s Jal Mahal, starring Jeetendra and Rekha, is a looser, more interpretative remake of Vertigo. Hitchcock’s original is a deeply psychological tale about obsession, illusion, identity and the male gaze, arguably his most personal and haunting work. Translating this into the Bollywood idiom, with its penchant for clear moral lines, elaborate romantic arcs and emotional climaxes, is a daunting task. Jal Mahal takes the challenge but loses its footing more than once.

The core of Vertigo – a man haunted by the memory of a lost woman and then discovering her ‘resurrected’ in a different guise – is retained, though the psychological complexity is largely diluted despite Rekha, reprising the Kim Novak role, getting three characters while Novak had two! Where Hitchcock’s Vertigo is a slow, spiralling descent into obsession, Jal Mahal leans more towards a conventional suspense-romance. The eerie, dreamlike quality that permeates Vertigo is replaced by gothic grandeur and exotic Indian locations. The titular Jal Mahal is used atmospherically, providing a haunting backdrop to the mystery. But the psychological nuances – Scottie’s guilt, his desire to recreate a woman, the layered theme of control and male fantasy – are rendered in broad, melodramatic strokes. The climax, instead of the tragic and poetic ending of Vertigo, opts for resolution and redemption, undercutting the existential dread that made the original unforgettable.

Mukul Anand’s Aitbaar (1985): A Muddled Remake of Dial M for Murder

What do you say about a remake of a Hitchcock film whose only positives are two delectable songs composed by Bappi Lahiri, and sung by Bhupinder and Asha Bhosle? Mukul Anand’s Aitbaar ambitiously attempts to reimagine Hitchcock’s classic thriller Dial M for Murder (1954) for an Indian audience. However, despite the high-stakes premise and a potentially gripping narrative, Aitbaar falters. What should have been a taut psychological thriller turns into a muddled melodrama weighed down by clunky storytelling, uneven performances and a lack of Hitchcockian finesse.

At its core, Aitbaar retains the skeleton of Hitchcock’s original plot. In Dial M for Murder, the story is executed with clinical precision and chilling restraint. In Aitbaar, Anand struggles to maintain the same level of narrative discipline or tension. His adaptation drifts frequently into melodramatic territory, sacrificing psychological complexity for emotional excess.

One of the most glaring shortcomings of Aitbaar is its tonal inconsistency, nowhere more visible than in the character of Inspector Barua, played by Danny Denzongpa, and a gratuitous item number. Where Hitchcock’s film thrives on subtle tension and atmospheric dread, Aitbaar frequently opts for overwrought musical cues and dramatic confrontations that dilute the suspense.

Visually, Aitbaar doesn’t capitalise on the claustrophobic tension that a thriller of this sort demands. Hitchcock masterfully used the confined space of a single apartment to heighten the sense of entrapment and inevitability. Anand’s direction, however, lacks that visual tightness.

Inaam Dus Hazaar (1987): Sanjay Dutt as Cary Grant

Directed by Jyotin Goel and starring Sanjay Dutt, Inaam Dus Hazaar is an unabashed remake of Hitchcock’s North by Northwest. The film sticks closely to the original’s basic premise but replaces Hitchcock’s cool detachment with Bollywood’s flair for the melodramatic and exuberant. Sanjay Dutt, still finding his feet as a leading man in the 1980s, does not have Cary Grant’s effortless charm, but he brings a certain raw energy to the role. Meenakshi Seshadri, in the Eva Marie Saint role, plays the double agent with grace, though the character lacks the complexity and ambiguity that Hitchcock’s version revels in.

The film’s strengths lie in its brisk pacing and reasonably taut script. The mistaken identity trope is effectively Indianised. The villains, including a rather theatrical Amrish Puri, are menacing enough to keep the narrative afloat. The espionage elements, though simplified, are well integrated into a framework that includes comic relief, romance and songs. Inaam Dus Hazaar is a competent thriller that understands the bones of Hitchcock’s plot but misses the finesse.

Soch (2002): Strange Remake of Strangers on a Train

Soch tries to reimagine Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train, and ends up playing like a clumsy parody rather than a taut thriller. Hitchcock’s original was a masterclass in psychological tension: two strangers meet, exchange a chilling ‘criss-cross’ murder pact, and set off a spiral of suspense. Soch keeps the basic premise but drowns it in overcooked melodrama, jarring song-and-dance routines, and dialogue that mistakes volume for menace.

To expect Sanjay Kapoor and Arbaaz Khan to fill in the shoes of Farley Granger and Robert Walker might be expecting too much, but their total lack of charisma turns a cat-and-mouse mind game into a hammy, one-note chase. By the climax, the tension is long dead, smothered under unintentional comedy.

(Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri is a film and music buff, editor, publisher, film critic and writer)