There is a scene in Dulal Guha’s 1976 film Do Anjaane where a nameless mohalla toughie makes an appearance for a few fleeting seconds. That was Mithun Chakraborty. The same Mithun Chakraborty who would go on to win a National Award the same year for his debut in Mrinal Sen’s Mrigayaa.
The same who would go on to win two more National Awards for Tahader Katha (1992) and for Swami Vivekananda in 1995 where he played Ramakrishna Paramhansa to great acclaim.
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The same who played the poor man’s James Bond in B-Grade runaway hits like Surakksha (directed by Ravikant Nagaich who often baffled the industry with his small-budget hits) with the kind of flair that had no reference point. And locked histrionics with Naseeruddin Shah in Khwab, a passable Shakti Samanta remake of Theodore Dreiser’s An American Tragedy.
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He was a trained actor but without the mental baggage that training usually imparts. He was neither a big league aspirant, nor an also ran. He was seething raw talent and primal appeal that oozed out of every frame. Unlike many Bengali actors who had enjoyed short-lived stints in Hindi cinema, Mithun was not playing a type. He was demolishing every cliche there was. This man was not going anywhere. And he hasn’t. And he did it his way.
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In an industry where top directors and actors formed their own cliques, he forged unusual partnerships with gutsy smaller players like Nagaich, Deepak Bahry (Most notably Taraana) and B Subhash (Disco Dancer and many more) in the 70s and 80s. If there was one thing clear about the trajectory of this man, it was that he was not playing by anybody’s rules. He was not afraid of the distinction between high and low brow cinema as he was a master of both.
He could outshine the ensemble cast of 1980’s Hum Paanch (directed by Bapu), be a village simpleton in Sitara who loses his love to a big city, play the singing, dancing, knuckle cracking, heart-breaking romantic hero in Taraana, win over millions of Russian hearts and influence generations with his iconic moves in Disco Dancer, happily let three veteran actors run the show in Shaukeen, run away with the family blockbuster of the year, Pyar Jhukta Nahin, out ham Bachchan himself (the same in whose Do Anjaane he had been an “extra”) in Agneepath and bring the house down with his signature Koi Shaque? in JP Dutta’s Ghulami.
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Be it family weepies like Mujhe Insaaf Chahiye, Ghar Ek Mandir, Swarag Se Sunder, Pyari Behna or Pyaar Ka Mandir or aggression laced potboilers like Watan Ke Rakhwale and Waqt Ki Awaz, he pulled it all off. Even creating an alternate genre of single screen friendly, godawful films like Dalaal and Jallad that ran to packed houses in the boondocks only because he was in them. Not to mention that his films set records even in regional languages like Bhojpuri! He even did middle of the road Basu Chatterjee films like Sheesha where he played an entitled, rich man privileged enough to get away with a rape attempt.
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Mithun figured very early in his career that he did not have the luxury to be fastidious about the choices he was making. Nor would he ever manipulate or play games to work with powerful makers. What remained constant was a quietly unshakeable self-belief and his undeniable talent no matter what he was doing. He has always made unpredictable choices. He is after all a man who post a degree at FTII, became a Naxal revolutionary till a tragedy forced him back into the family fold. He was a trained fighter. He could dance and he could sell even a film like Bhayaank where he romanced Ranjeeta around tacky sets and a revolving bed.
The only man perhaps in the industry who can be both Gunmaster G9, and Ramakrishna Paramhansa. Javar and Jallad. And Jimmy and Bheema. And the only actor who lives away from the hard selling and the fame mongering of the industry and yet has not been forgotten. He is a hospitality entrepreneur with a chain of hotels, rescues strays, started Cine & T.V Artistes Association (CINTAA) to help artistes in need along with Dilip Kumar and Sunil Dutt and was also the Chairperson of Film Studios Setting & Allied Mazdoor Union. His social work does not make news because he keeps it private.
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And every few years, he stars in a fantastic role (Guru) to show just how good an actor he is. He is also a much loved dance judge on TV. A lot had changed in his career but what hasn’t is that unalloyed charisma. The man has aged beautifully, is a responsible tax payer, does not feature in any financial scams, does not clamour for political patronage and is loved and respected in equal measure not just because he has earned his chops as an industry veteran but because he is a man who has never been played by fame, by circumstances, by peer pressure. He has always been.. quite simply..the one and the only Mithun Chakraborty.
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Here are some of my favourite Mithun Da performances.
Ghulami: He is both tender and ferocious as Javar in this JP Dutta epic. Entrusted with the responsibility of ferrying a young orphan girl from one village to another, he watches her take her time to say goodbye to her past, coaxes her to wrap a blanket around her because it is cold and when she says, “Mar hi jaaongi na..mujhe rone wala kaun baitha hai, he turns around and says, “Pehle nahin tha..ab hai.” Watch him break into a jig in sprawling Rajasthani ruins with Huma Khan to the glorious lilt of Zeehale Muskin or chase down the man who has misguided his flock of animals across the border and explain the encounter with this killer line, “Pehli goli usne chalayi aur aakhri..maine!” And stride through the rugged, arid sandscapes in his army Olives to ask Koi Shaque? This is a cracker of a performance in a film cluttered with the likes of Dharmendra, Naseeruddin Shah and Smita Patil.
Mrigayaa (the Royal Hunt): As the name of this Mrinal Sen film suggests, Mithun’s tribal Ghinua is both a hunter and a man who is hunted and his swarthy aggression and elemental innocence infused the film with unforgettable vitality as he is manipulated by the British and victimised by circumstances. Watch him in the forest scene where he stalks and hunts his prey like a creature of the wild. Or the scene where he catches a deer and brings it to please the resident British master. Try placing any other Indian mainstream actor in the same scene to create as much realism as he did.
Prem Pratigya: This was a terrible film by Bapu and is remembered only because it has sterling performances by Mithun Da and Madhuri Dixit. While Madhuri play acted as a fiery Dabbe wali, it was Mithun’s barely talking street goon with a heart of gold who won the day with his one liners and even when he said nothing but quietly gave a stick to Madhuri to beat him with, brawny shoulders bent respectfully.
Hum Paanch: Just the sight of him rushing through a mock marriage with Deepti Naval in Kya Jaanu Main Sajaniya is enough to make one break into a smile. He plays the hotheaded Bheema in this uneven retelling of Mahabharata and is possibly one of the few reasons why you should watch this film.
Guru: There are many incredible Mithun Da moments in this film but my favourite is where he is playing with Guru’s twin baby girls, and making cooing sounds to them. And between this grandfatherly display of emotion, he also makes it a point to tell their mother that the battle between him and Guru is not over and that his ideals can’t be bought over by two little girls. Gold.
Disco Dancer: Just for the way, he asks in Vijay Benedict’s voice, “Hey beautiful! What’s your name?” And that gold outfit that even Aamir Khan parodied in Delhi Belly.
Kasam Paida Karne Wali ki: Because this B Subhash film is so bad, you can’t stop watching it! There is Smita Patil playing the vengeful mother. Salma Agha playing a gorgeous pop singer and Mithun Da interpreting Michael Jackson’s Thriller in a way that is both hilarious and hugely entertaining!
Happy birthday Mithun Da, thank you for the fun at the movies, the joyous dancing and the life lessons.
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Reema Moudgil is the editor and co-founder of Unboxed Writers, the author of Perfect Eight, the editor of Chicken Soup for the Soul-Indian Women, a translator who recently interpreted Dominican poet Josefina Baez’s book Comrade Bliss Ain’t Playing in Hindi, an RJ and an artist who has exhibited her work in India and the US and is now retailing some of her art at http://paintcollar.com/reema. She won an award for her writing/book from the Public Relations Council of India in association with Bangalore University, has written for a host of national and international magazines since 1994 on cinema, theatre, music, art, architecture and more. She hopes to travel more and to grow more dimensions as a person. And to be restful, and alive in equal measure.