Utpal Dutt. The name conjures up a balding, pot-bellied man in his late 50s or early 60s who laughed funny and had impeccable comedic timing. But a nice man nonetheless – be it Bhavani Shankar from Gol Maal or Bhavani Shankar of Naram GaramDhurandhar Bhatawdekar of Rank Birangi or Kailash Pati from Kissi Se Na Kehna.

In stark contrast to this mental imagery just discussed, Dutt was a fiery leftist intellectual, known for his caustic remarks on industrial society, private ownership of property and cultural appropriation and all the other things that annoyed people on the left. during the day. For example, here’s what he had to say about the hit TV series Ramayana in the late 1980s: “Sanskrit-speaking Hindi-speaking monkeys and bears, holy men flying above painted clouds”.

Although widely known for playing comedy roles in Hindi cinema, much of Utpal Dutt’s life has been dominated by acting. And like most famous stage actors, he started with the Bard plays. In the 1940s, as a teenager, Dutt adopted a particularly powerful interpretation of Shakespeare’s Richard III. In the audience was Geoffrey Kendal, father of Jennifer Kapoor née Kendal, soon to be Shashi Kapoor’s young wife. The Kendals were known for their Shakespearana troupe with which they toured India far and wide and staged Shakespeare’s plays.

Kendal was upset by young Dutt’s antics and recruited him for his troupe. They collaborated on a staging of Othello which made a lot of noise in the cultural circles of Calcutta (that’s what the city was then called). Kendal cites one of many rave reviews from her autobiography Shakespeare Wallah:

“Two promising young actors, Utpal Dutt and Pratap Roy, joined us for a while. Audiences and critics in Calcutta were enthusiastic. The statesman critic wrote of othello:

“No one who appreciates good acting and smooth stage management should miss this performance…we return from the Garrison Theater with a sense of integration, which no other form of entertainment available is able to provide to audiences. townspeople, and having once enjoyed it, we can only wish the English Repertory Company would extend their stay here indefinitely.…””

Dutt himself used to review plays under the pseudonym Iago, which made for a double irony when reviewing his own performance in othello:

“Mr. Dutt as Othello was quite a pitiful sight, with his voice gone, his labored breathing, and his enormous bulk.

In fact, when Bengal’s matinee idol Uttam Kumar failed to deliver crucial lines of othello for his iconic film Saptapadi, Utpal voiced the role, while Jennifer Kapoor did the same for Suchitra Sen as Desdemona.

Dutt was at odds with the government most of the time, due to the reflection of his radical leftist views in his plays and writings. In September 1965, he landed in prison for sedition for an article he wrote for a Bengali periodical. In fact, it was his most radical – and iconic – play that put him in the eye of the storm and also won him the attention of the Hindi film industry. In his memoirs I am not an islandKhwaja Ahmed Abbas writes:

“The Admiral was standing tall and straight on the quarterdeck.

“Surrender” he yelled and the man from the after deck translated it into the Morse code of his flags.

“They refuse, sir!”

The flag man interpreted the brief message that came from the other side.

“Then fire,” ordered the admiral in a loud voice.

The cannons on either side of him crackled, spitting flames of fire.

It was a scene from one of the most amazing and vivid plays I have ever seen…

…The Admiral seemed to have a sadistic streak, he continued to chew his cigar and urged the gunmen to shoot the mutineers again and again.

It was a representation of People’s Theater at the Minerva Cinema in Calcutta and the scene was taken from the play Kalolol, written and produced by Utpal Dutt, who seemed to have no limits to his versatility. …

…Since then, the image of the man – Utpal Dutt – has become ingrained in my memory. When came the time for me to think about the casting of saat hindustani (Seven Indians) the first thing I thought of was Utpal Dutt. Of course, there was no sadistic admiral role in my film.

So Utpal Dutt landed the lead role of a farmer and ex-Punjabi soldier, leading a daredevil squad that set out to liberate Goa from the Portuguese. Alongside him, Hindi filmdom was introduced to another new guy, a lanky young man who four years from now will change the face of the industry. In the same year (1969), Dutt also appeared in Mrinal Sen’s seminal work Bhuvan Shomein which the aforementioned lanky young man provided the voiceover.

Perhaps it was his theatrical training that gave the man his unrivaled flair for physical comedy. For example, fighting a losing battle on a slimming belt, humming “Mann ki ankhen khol, baba…” (Gol Maal) or chasing Farooq Sheikh on a slide (Rank Birangi). Or this bit in Gol Maal where he chats with the suspicious Mrs. Srivastav (Dina Pathak), who goes back and forth on a swing. Dutt tries his best to sit on it when the swing comes his way, but misses it each time, only managing to catch it on the fourth attempt. All this while he was carrying on a conversation with her.

He didn’t shy away from starring in the worst, shittiest movies that made him an unflattering caricature. But Dutt made no secret of the fact that most of those shitty movies fueled the financial engine so necessary for his theater work to flourish and prosper. He once said: “I’ve developed a technique to close my mind, rather turn it off. I won’t even be able to tell you the names of the movies I’ve starred in or even the name of the character I just finished shooting.

But despite winning three Filmfare Awards, Dutt had no misconception about where she stood in the industry’s food chain. An anecdote from the 1970s will illustrate this point. The episode was mentioned in a Bengali article by Soumyajit Bhowmik in the pages of Anandabazar Patrika.

It was in 1973. Bhowmik was then stationed at Dum Dum airport. Raj Kapoor and Utpal Dutt were there to catch a flight to Bombay. Kapoor was there to promote his new movie, Policeman. Obviously, the star was there with his entourage and was mobbed by people while Dutt was alone, maintaining a respectful distance. Bhowmik approached Raj for an autograph. Beaming his zillion watt smile, Raj jokes, “Why me? I’m just the star, after all. The real actor is over there. Go get his autograph first, please. A little bewildered, Bhowmik went to see Utpal Dutt, who said, “I would love to. See, I’m just an actor-writer. He is the real star. You should get his autograph first.

This time, Raj Kapoor agreed. Dutt followed suit. Once informed of Raj Kapoor’s little comment earlier, Utpal Dutt was smiling in his inimitable style. As if to say, “I get it!”

Amborish is a National Film Award-winning writer, biographer and film historian.