Visceral conviction, terrifying eyes: Reading Ashutosh Rana’s performances, from Sangharsh to Pagglait-Entertainment News , Firstpost

Two minutes and twenty-six seconds is all it took Ashutosh Rana to make his mark. Even though many of us recognised his cameo (in Vikram Bhatt’s Ghulam) long after his breakout roles in Dushman and Sangharsh, his brief part already told us what we needed to know.

Shyam Sunder Agarwal appears in a black-and-white flashback, where he confronts a fellow freedom fighter (Dalip Tahil), the protagonist’s (Aamir Khan) father, about his betrayal during the freedom movement. Agarwal’s character assumes absolute silence for a large part of his first minute on screen. It is only in the minute and a half after that, does Rana launch into a dramatic tirade. There is something splendidly old school in the way he brings up “Majid ka khoon” while holding up a miniature version of the tricolour. Filled with spite and bitterness, Rana’s character calls his former comrade, “Bhagaude… saale kaayar” (Deserter… bloody coward!).

His words seem to be simmering for decades. The obvious betrayal in Rana’s voice is what makes the scene so affecting and memorable. Even in a two-and-a-half-minute cameo, Rana takes no prisoners. When he screams… he screams. The truth in his voice, unmistakable.

In retrospect, it only seems logical that Rana arrived as Hindi cinema’s most fearsome villain within the next 18 months. First as the sly postman, Gokul Pandit, who moonlights as a serial rapist/murderer. And then a year later, as Lajja Shankar Pandey, a schizophrenic man, who believes sacrificing children will make him immortal.

Rana uses his terrifying eyes to perfection, and displays a visceral conviction in his character’s actions, something that was not the norm in the late ’90s.

Most villains in the ’90s were a product of exaggerated mannerisms and silly sounding catch-phrases. Both Gokul Pandit and Lajja Shankar Pandey had neither of mainstream Hindi cinema’s crutches for a memorable villain. And yet, Rana is imprinted in our memories, even after two decades. Interestingly, both films were helmed by Tanuja Chandra, who describes Rana’s casting as Gokul Pandit as a case of ‘distress casting.’

“The actor we had initially cast, developed extreme camera-shyness from the very first day of shoot. After two days, I informed Mr Mahesh Bhatt, our producer, that we would need to replace him. Ashutosh had acted in one of the TV serials produced by Bhatt sahab, and I went ahead and took the call on instinct. I asked him to come meet me, and I remember, informing him on the steps of the office outside the producer’s cabin, that he was going to be the main antagonist in the film. He literally jumped with joy! I burst into loud laughs as well,” says Chandra.

A particularly iconic moment from Sangharsh is where Rana dresses up as a woman while trying to abduct a child. As Preity Zinta’s character tries to chase him down after his failed attempt, Rana’s character appears out of nowhere and lets out an (almost) tribal warfare scream, with his index finger flicking his mouth. It is a moment so unexpected and audacious that it has remains plastered as a memory for most of us, who watched it in an impressionable age. It is a sound usually associated with ‘warding off evil’ according to Hindu traditions, and such is the conviction in Rana’s scream that it could catch most people off-guard.

“He immersed himself into the alternate reality without any self-consciousness or the need to protect himself. He hardly cared about peoples’ perception of him, and would submit himself completely to my vision and script. When an actor doesn’t hold himself back, is flamboyant in his soul, it’s a treat!” says Chandra.

So vivid is the memory, that Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhaniya director Shashank Khaitan considered referencing it in his debut film. “I remember we joked about how we should do a scene about Varun Dhawan having a dream about Mr Rana doing the same thing as his character, Mr Singh, which wakes Varun up in a state of shock. But then we thought it would be really gimmicky,” says Khaitan. 

Unfortunately, in Hindi cinema, your biggest successes also often get you slotted for certain kind of films. The thundering applause for Dushman and Sangharsh was followed by a string of roles, where one could easily confuse one for the other. These were roles of evil patriarchs, corrupt politicians, and sadistic policemen, mostly encompassing all possible definitions of a Hindi film ‘villain.’ “This is what happens time and again when someone achieves success. An actor seemingly anglicised cannot be imagined in a rural part. A director good at making niche films may be dismissed if he or she tries to make something mainstream,” says Chandra.

Abhishek Chaubey, who directed Rana in Sonchiriya, is of a similar opinion. “Cinema of that era was limited in the roles it offered to an actor with the kind of unique skill set Mr Rana possessed. I think the problem lies more with producers and directors that they tend to box actors like Ashutosh who are capable of such a wide range.” These roles in the 2000s seemed to lack the individuality of a Gokul Pandit or a Lajja Shankar Pandey, even though it was never because of a lack of trying on Rana’s part.

For example, his role as Malik in Mohit Suri’s Awarapan is a regular trench-coat wearing desi villain based in Hong Kong, until the climax where Rana uses his powerful lungs and righteous delivery to ask “WHY?” Why is Emraan Hashmi’s hitman character Shivam so intent on saving a girl, to the extent where he is willing to sacrifice his own life for her? The overall impact of the moment might be lost because of the overwritten Bhatt dialogues, but for someone desperately searching for the ‘truth’ in Rana’s voice, will surely register the scene.

After a series of forgettable films in the later part of the 2000s and the early part of 2010s, Rana reinvented himself as a stern patriarch in Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhaniya. It was a role Rana had played all too often, but the winning element about his performance, is how Rana himself used the audience expectations against them. “My executive producer (EP) Sumit suggested we speak to Ashutosh Rana, who was in talks for another film with Dharma at that time. We saw him in office, and the moment he walked into the room, and I discussed the part with him, there was a connect. He was very candid and open about the part. He wasn’t insecure about playing the role of a father at all. He was playing the role of this really vulnerable father.” Rana uses his grating stare in this one as well, but he underplays the part through a major portion of the film, assured that his larger-than-life personality has already filled the room.

It is a trick that most directors have used to great effect in the subsequent years — using Rana’s familiarity as a ‘villainous’ character to get to larger truths. Like the way Chaubey starts off Rana’s Virender Singh Gujjar mercilessly bumping off dacoits in an ambush, but it is only later do we realise the pain behind Gujjar’s eyes. “Sonchiriya is about the unending cycle of violence, behind the dangerous and tough exterior, these are ordinary people like you and me caught in a vicious circle. Gujjar is as much a victim as he is guilty. Ashutosh is such a fine actor that he conveyed this duality effortlessly,” confirms Chaubey. 

Rana has appeared remarkably restrained and assured in his ‘second coming’ if one might call it that. One sees the assurance in Rohit Shetty’s Simmba, where Rana plays the relatively staid role of Constable Mohile, in front of the colourful inspector, Sangram ‘Simmba’ Bhalerao (Ranveer Singh). Mohile disapproves of Simmba’s corrupt ways, but never really goes into a moralistic tirade like Shyamsunder Agarwal. If one even sees Rana’s performance in Anubhav Sinha’s Mulk, it is a performance that seems like a hark back to his early years, with high decibels and that familiar conviction. But while Rana’s early performances seemed like a mercurial bull capable of charging in any direction, in a film like Mulk, there seems to be a design to the loudness in his performance. 

With emergence of OTT shows, and a whole new brand of ‘mainstream’ films, one can be hopeful that Rana might get a larger field to showcase his versatility. Like Umesh Bist’s Pagglait, that released on Netflix a couple of months ago, where Rana plays the part of a grieving father. He brings a delicate balance of volatility and stoicism to the part of Shivendra Giri. Rana barely has a line or two in the first 10 minutes of the film, but in the manner this voice breaks during his first line of dialogue, lends the emotional stakes to a film, which is an irreverent commentary on India’s grieving culture. “If you look at Shivendra’s character in Pagglait, he has the same kind of volatile, unpredictable energy that his other popular characters have. Wahaan yeh energy dikhani thi, lekin yaha chippani thi. His performance has a palpable nervous energy… but it’s restrained,” says Bist. 

Are there other kinds of characters that his directors wish to see him play? “I do believe that more bad-guy roles could’ve been written for him, possibly more realistic in tone but no less frightening. I think he could’ve really taken the antagonist zone to greater heights, had he not lost interest in playing villains. Also, I imagine most people don’t see him in a ‘lover-boy’s’ role. And by that, I mean, a mature, desperately romantic role. I hope a director writes one such part for him,” says Chandra.

Khaitan, who also directed him in Dhadak, makes an interesting observation. “My gut reaction to this question is this: his eyes are so powerful, the way it captivates the audience, and the way it speaks on the big screen, I think it would be interesting to see him play the role of a blind man. I think a lot of people simply look at his eyes and judge him as a ‘villain’, but I think a blind man’s role will be challenging for him as well as the audience.” Is Sriram Raghavan listening?