Bachchan's gravitas defines him; age is just a number

He reinvented the ‘old man’ persona on its head, and paved the path for Bollywood to welcome more of his kind into its fold

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Sushmita Bose

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Published: Tue 11 Oct 2022, 11:00 PM

Last updated: Tue 11 Oct 2022, 11:03 PM

There are some people — especially celebrities in south Asia — who live with monikers all their lives. Maybe sobriquets is a better word. Meena Kumari was and will always be ‘Tragedy Queen’. Sunil Gavaskar is ‘Little Master’, even as Sachin Tendulkar’s brand-wagon snapped at his heels over that appellation. Amitabh Bachchan was served ‘Angry Young Man’ on a platter in his heydays when he portrayed leading men who twerked to anti-bourgeois angst, taking on the system and gratifying souls of the have-nots in a pre-liberalised India.

As he turns 80, he remains the Angry Young Man in the hearts of millions. Bachchan, unlike a Tom Cruise or a Shah Rukh Khan — who are constantly under the ageism scanner for trying to “pass off” as men with a millennial appeal — never had to go through the ignominy of having his wrinkles counted or getting his crow’s feet covered in swathes of makeup. Like water, he flowed into whatever shape or size or age he had to enact — and that’s how he remained in the public consciousness: the Angry Young Man who mellowed down (subsequently) but never lost his hauteur. His gravitas always defined him, never his age. Whatever he did — from playing Vijay in his blue denim shirt and khaki trousers in 'Deewar' (1975) to saying “No means no” in a packed courtroom in 'Pink' (2016) a good 40 years later — nobody imbued gravitas in Bollywood as much as Bachchan did.


In between, there were blips. He did some bad movies, but they weren’t bad because he didn’t play his age; they were bad because they were downright bad movies. The stigma of playing a role that “doesn’t befit him” never spooked him. Which is perhaps why it is so important to analyse ageing in the context of the Amitabh Bachchan parameter.

For one, he lived in a different era — a time when audiences were way more forgiving, way less straitjacketed. Nobody seemed to care that he was a 40-something playing a 20-something; more so because, with Bachchan, the enduring legacy of Angry Young Man had become psychological blinkers for viewers… it was a mantle to beat all mantles.


For another, he was comfortable with ageing, choosing to turn his back on plain vanilla ‘geriaction’-type roles with 'Mohabbatein' in 2000 — where he took on the bold step of playing Shah Rukh Khan’s ‘paternal’ equivalent.

And yet, he reinvented the ‘old man’ persona on its head, and paved the path for Bollywood to welcome more of his kind into its fold. Bachchan didn’t do it the way, say, Anil Kapoor did it, who, in his ebullient Sixties, remains ‘youthful’.

Bachchan went for broke.

He played a retired grandfather madly in love with his wife in 'Baghban', pining for her (when he’s separated from her by way of a sleight of hand) in a way a teenager in love does. He used the same smouldering intensity he did in the 1970s and 80s when the college-going heroine’s knees would turn to jelly. Even the ageist Bollywood audience fell hook, line and sinker for it, no judgements drawn on the fact that he was less grandpa, more lover boy.

In 'Nishabd' he re-enacted a watered-down version of Humbert Humbert from 'Lolita' (in Hollywood cinematic adaptation, the role was essayed by Jeremy Irons in 1997, and by James Mason in 1962). The movie was a big flop as Bollywood audiences 15 years ago, without the hindsight — and complexities — of Netflix and other OTT platforms, couldn’t handle a 60-something falling for a teenager. Bachchan was criticised for 'choosing' to play the part; not 'how' he played it — with consummate ease, comfortable in his sexagenarian state.

In 'Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehn', he took on a role — ‘Sexy Sam’ — that was way more complicated and nuanced than the candy-flossed KJo treatment would have us believe. Bachchan played a risqué father to one of the heroes (his real-life son Abhishek Bachchan); he’s a widower, who constantly talks about his much-loved late wife not allowing him to be ‘promiscuous’, and now that she’s no more, he’s allowed to run amok. The characterisation was significant because he’s also an elder, a family patriarch and the moral compass who tries to put in place a template for others to follow.

In a way, 'Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna' was a throwback to what Bachchan went on to do for a film industry steeped in ageism and lookism. Today, he doesn’t play roles befitting an ‘older’ person. He defines them.


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