In His Second Skin: Roles that defined Irrfan Khan’s unmatched acting talent
A still from The Lunchbox.
Irrfan Khan was both subtle and mesmerising, performing with words and with his eyes, embodying characters we would never forget. Jamie Alter analyses the five crucial roles that helped define the art of the acting legend.
“Toh… sex wex ho gaya kya?”
It is somewhat ironic that, given his immense acting skill and ability to narrate a vast array of emotions with those eyes—oh man, those eyes—it was that one dialogue that endeared Irrfan Khan to a wider audience.
The line is spoken by his character Ranvijay Singh in Haasil, directed by Tigmanshu Dhulia. Released in 2003, the film based on North Indian student politics pushed the actor—who died aged 53 on April 29—closer towards mainstream cinema, where he would go on to make a significant mark over the next seventeen years. Khan had been trying his hand in Hindi cinema since he graduated from the National School of Drama in 1987, but it was Haasil finally won him rave reviews as well as the Filmfare Award for Best Villain in 2004. It was the picture which, as we now look back at his glittering performances, proved a major turning point in his career.
Soon, he got meatier roles, even if he did not suddenly appear in a flood of movies. In 2005 he was the lead in Rog and starred with Juhi Chawla in 7 ½ Phere. Over the next two years, he found key roles in a range of films. It was also during this time that Khan found takers for his exceptional craft outside of India. Films like A Mighty Heart, The Darjeeling Limited, Partition and The Namesake all made him India’s finest export to the West.
Since I cannot claim to have met the man—even though I was once fortunate to watch him strike a cricket ball with beautiful timing for several minutes during a net session in the late 90s—I offer here a celebration of Khan’s talent through five crucial roles that defined his art.
Haasil (2003)
The hallmark of Khan’s acting was his ability to attune to the nuances of behavior, and The Lunchbox gave him the plenty of room to have fun... It can be argued that this is the role of his career. And true to his craft, Khan did not tackle it; instead, he wore it like a second skin.
As the University of Allahabad student leader, Khan’s Ranvijay Singh is a cunning schemer, capable of getting anyone in his way bumped off. The aforementioned scene from Haasil in which his character quizzically asks Jimmy Shergill’s Anirudh about his lady love—whom he has designs on—is wonderfully candid, and yet underlined by distinct jealousy. As Anirudh replies hesitantly, you can almost imagine Ranvijay nonchalantly pushing him off the ledge he is seated on. He doesn’t do so; but the belief is real.
Sample the scene in which Ranvijay is being chased by a members of the rival political party and is finally caught, then beaten mercilessly. Taking body blows, Khan’s character threatens his perpetrators: “Aur maaro! Aur jaan se maar dena! Hum reh gaye na, hum maarne mein der na lagaayenge, Bhagwan kasam!” (“Keep beating me, and make sure to kill me! For if I survive, I will not hesitate to finish you off, by God’s promise!”)
It is a physically jarring scene of brutality but the rawness in Khan’s bulbous eyes and the conviction of his words, as he takes punches and kicks, appear far more threatening. That one scene is perhaps the pinnacle of Khan’s performance in the film.
Another great scene which shows Khan’s versatility and ability to deadpan in the midst of grimness is when he shoots the left hand of a Christian rival, and then, consoles him with a chide: “Koi baat nahin, kuch nahin hua. Arre, right hand se khaago na daily bread.” (“It’s alright, nothing has happened. Why, you can eat your daily bread with your right hand.”)
If you’ve not seen it, go watch Haasil for Khan’s performance. which reinforces the notion that violence is wired into every man’s DNA. You won’t know what hit you.
Maqbool (2003)
Vishal Bhardwaj made three films with Khan, and this I believe was the best one. It was Khan’s biggest screen role, and he sunk his teeth into every scene to produce a performance that has not aged one bit. Under Bhardwaj’s expert tutelage, Khan haunts and is haunted (literally, in one chilling scene) in this deft adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. As the titular character of the film, Khan plays the murderer-turned-conscience-stricken character with such depth that he wins each frame he is in.
Watch Maqbool and observe Khan in that courtyard scene, where he sees the ghost of Pankaj Kapur’s Abbaji, which appears as a manifestation of his own guilty conscience. The eyes say it all; Maqbool is terrified not just by the vision of a man he killed—in his own bed, mind you, with his wife lying next to him—but by the possibility that the ghost will betray his secret. It is frightening scene heightened by the fear Khan translates on screen.
The Lunchbox (2013)
Understated and charming in this sweet little film, Khan meets every challenge of a role that calls for subtlety and sureness. The hallmark of Khan’s acting was his ability to attune to the nuances of behavior, and The Lunchbox gave him the plenty of room to have fun.
Just watch his Mr Fernandes, whom we meet as a widower on the doorstep of retirement from his uneventful job as an accountant. All his life, we are led to believe, Fernandes has moved as in a trance. Then one day, on account of a delivery mix-up, Fernandes opens up what he believes to be his tiffin and begins to unpack his meal. As soon as he opens the first of four dabbas—compartments—he knows something is different. Then he raises the dabba to smell it, and knows for sure that all is not normal. But in a pleasant way. The aroma of a new, perplexing dish is followed by a taste of one of the most mundane and maligned vegetables in the Indian menu: bhindi, or ladyfinger.
One bite has Fernandes intrigued, and he then delves into the rest of the meal which we find out is meant for someone else. This scene lasts one minute and fifteen seconds, without a word spoken. Khan nails every nuance.
Fernandes’ life, personal and professional, has until this day played out by rote and without much satisfaction. This one scene, owing to a rare and unexplained error inside the vast and successful labyrinth that is Bombay’s dabbawalla fabric, sets Fernandes on the road to discovering himself.
Through a series of handwritten notes placed in packed and eaten dabbas, Fernandes and Ila—played beautifully by Nimrat Kaur—open up to each other in funny and touching ways despite never meeting each other. To watch a relationship between two strangers begin in pleasantries and build its way to sharing personal thoughts via notes and stainless steel dishes is charming, largely because of how Khan carries the film with his touching performance.
Now weigh in the second narrative of Khan’s private and closeted character having to deal with his replacement, played by a very fine Nawazuddin Siddiqui, and you have a concoction only an actor of immense range could sip from. It can be argued that this is the role of his career. And true to his craft, Khan did not tackle it; instead, he wore it like a second skin.
Piku (2015)
Perhaps it came from some inner place where only he knew he had been—having dodged death. Khan was relaxed, and his comic timing was at its peak. It is not a particularly subtle performance—nothing really is subtle in Angrezi Medium—and yet, Khan channels a simplicity that was not always on view in his other massy films.
In this eccentric road movie, helmed skillfully by Shoojit Sircar, Khan is the delicate dazzler. Pitted against the acting chops of Amitabh Bachchan and with a surprisingly fluid Deepika Padukone for company, Khan shows how he can be a comic force with the tilt of an eyebrow. As the unlikely trio takes to the road in an Innova to get from Delhi to Kolkata, a sort of Little Miss Sunshine narrative plays out with oodles of charm. And full credit to Khan for holding things together and not letting the film spill out of hand.
I found his scenes with Padukone absolutely engaging, and Khan is a big reason in Piku sneaking up and flooring the viewer. Khan has the fewest dialogues to mouth of the three leads, but in this road trip, his character—Rana Chaudhary—is given ample opportunities to sift out nuggets of happiness, disappointment and bewilderment with his facial expressions and body language. He isn’t immune to the odd line of sarcasm of mockery from Padukone’s character or Bachchan’s either, and it is this understated performance by Khan that keeps Piku resonant.
With much of the film played out inside the Innova (sometimes on the move, sometimes stationary), the physical space is limited. In one such scene, as he tries to cozy up to Padukone’s Piku, Khan is cut off by Bachchan, the cantankerous old man in the back seat. While the geriatric lectures him on the pitfalls of his career choice and lifestyle, Khan fixes his gaze on Padukone, and lets a volley of emotions play out in front of the viewer. As he does so often in his career, Khan doesn’t need many words to win you over with his brilliance.
Angrezi Medium (2020)
I have to admit, while watching Khan’s final release Angrezi Medium just weeks ago, I could help but feel that perhaps I was watching his last performance. Shooting for the film—a sequel of sorts to his 2017 smash hit Hindi Medium—began in early 2019, after the actor returned from England, where he had undergone nearly a year of treatment for a neuroendocrine tumour. Countless waited for his return, and we were treated to a very fine performance, for one last time.
I found Khan’s work more entertaining here than in Hindi Medium. Perhaps it came from some inner place where only he knew he had been—having dodged death. Khan was relaxed, and his comic timing was at its peak. It is not a particularly subtle performance—nothing really is subtle in Angrezi Medium—and yet, Khan channels a simplicity that was not always on view in his other massy films.
Observe him as his widower Champak Bansal, a sweetshop owner in Udaipur, teasing his only daughter Tarika—Taru, lovingly—about her studies and aspirations to study in London. Or when he engages in banter with a hilarious Deepak Dobriyal. Or the scene in which he stands at the gate of Taru’s school principal’s luxurious house and begs forgiveness for inadvertent slander which threatens to dash his daughter’s dream. These are all moments that make for a moving, poignant portrayal of a protective single parent in an otherwise average film.
In the last project of his life, Khan brought a lifetime of experience to bear on his character in Angrezi Medium. May the award panels and jurors take note.
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Jamie Alter is a sports writer and journalist in the digital world, having covered cricket around the world including three World Cups. After nearly five years working for ESPNcricinfo, Jamie served as Sports Editor of the Times of India Digital, Cricbuzz, Cricketnext and most recently as Group Sports Editor (Digital) at Zee Media. He also also authored two cricket-related books and dabbled in acting. You can find him on Twitter: @alter_jamie.
