Irrfan Khan is known for his smouldering intensity in films like Maqbool and Haider. Even films like Jurassic Park and Slumdog Millionaire, where he plays small parts, his characteristic anger seems to be boiling just beneath the surface. That’s partly why his performances in these films are so memorable. Irrfan has received numerous accolades for these performances, and justifiably so. However, one of my favourite Irrfan films is also one in which he gives perhaps his career’s most subtle and gentle performance: the road trip film, Piku.
Road trip films have become so common that they’re now considered to be a genre in themselves. The reasons they’re so popular are not difficult to ascertain, such as the opportunity to visit different locations and the dramatic possibilities offered by putting all your characters together in an enclosed space.
Road trip films are also extremely malleable, ranging from the sublime (Little Miss Sunshine) to the thrilling (Thelma and Louise) to the utterly ridiculous (Zombieland). Arguably, India’s most famous road trip film is Bombay to Goa, a (literal) vehicle for the formidable comic talents of Mehmood as well as a number of character actors of the era – not to mention a young Amitabh Bachchan!
No doubt film historians can name Indian road trip films that are even older than Bombay to Goa. However, not all of these films may be compelling, not least because making a compelling road trip film is harder than it seems. The story and characters have to be interesting enough that the audience is invested in them for the length of the journey. Piku, which came out in 2015, is one of the more successful films in this regard.
In the film, the main character, Piku (Deepika Padukone in an underrated performance), a high-strung partner in a construction firm, takes her cantankerous father Bhaskar (played to perfection by Amitabh Bachchan) on a trip to Calcutta from Delhi. Because he refuses to travel by plane or train, she has to book a taxi.
The owner of the taxi firm, Rana (Irrfan Khan), volunteers to drive them after his employees refuse to deal with the demanding Piku. That’s all you need to know about the plot. There’s some stuff about Bhaskar’s constipation (a heavy-handed metaphor for his circumscribed lifestyle) and the sale of his ancestral house in Calcutta, but it’s inconsequential in the context of the road trip narrative, which is entirely dependent on the three main characters’ performances.
All three actors rise to the occasion wonderfully, but I’m not going to discuss Padukone’s and Bachchan’s performances here, save to say that Padukone, shorn of heavy makeup and dressed in no-nonsense career woman garb, gives a fantastic performance as the harried daughter of a very difficult man. She often loses her temper and shouts, and it’s a credit to Padukone that we never lose our sympathies for her. As for Bachchan, he’s so good that it’s easy to forget how much he struggled for relevance throughout the late 80s and 90s.
He went through a career renaissance in the 2000s, starting with films like Khakee, and has now reached a point where he could justifiably be called the Grand Old Man of Indian cinema. In Piku, everything about his performance, from his exaggerated Bengali accent to his gestures to his expressions, is so natural that watching him is like putting on your favourite well-worn shirt on a holiday or having spicy chicken soup when you’re sick; his very presence exudes comfort.
But it’s Irrfan who’s the real star of the film. He dials his famous intensity way down for the role of Rana Chaudhury, the put-upon owner of the taxi firm that services Piku’s office. It would be unfair to readers who haven’t yet seen the film to list all his best scenes in it (not to mention pointless because no words can convey Irfan’s ability to emote with his eyes alone), so I’ll only discuss two key scenes that reveal the depth of his performance.
In the first scene, the group is hitting the road again after a night stop at Benares. After Bhaskar returns from the toilet after another unsuccessful attempt to relieve himself, Rana suggests that Bhaskar trying the Indian ‘squatting’ method of going to the toilet. He even draws a (rather graphic) illustration depicting the benefits of this method. Bhaskar, who is always willing to try any new pharmacopoeia, eagerly agrees. Piku yells at him for risking an injury in the loo and storms out as Rana smirks triumphantly at her.
However, the reason for his smirk only becomes clear later, when Piku whispers to him, ‘Don’t think your home remedies will impress me, or Dad. We know everything about constipation’. An embarrassed Rana mutters, ‘Oh, yeah, obviously’. Piku realises that Rana has a crush on her and makes sure Rana knows she has realised this. Irrfan conveys Rana’s discomfort through subtle changes in his body language. His eyes go wide and his shoulders droop, and he suddenly looks like a schoolboy caught playing a prank.
The second scene, which is probably the most important one in the entire film, takes place just outside Calcutta. Bhaskar wakes up from a nap and, finding that the batteries in his hearing aid are missing, concludes that he left them behind in the dhaaba they had stopped at for dinner. He demands to go back and when Piku accuses him of making an unnecessary fuss, yells at her that she’s always treated him like he’s a burden.
An outraged Rana stops the car and proceeds to release a verbal tirade that I’m certain everyone with ageing parents can relate to. The scene is a culmination of hours of Rana’s frustration with Bhaskar and provides some much-needed catharsis. It’s pointless to even put it into words, so I recommend just watching it.
If this scene doesn’t sell you on the film and Irrfan’s performance, nothing else about it might. Irrfan’s delivery is so natural and precise that you have no problem sympathising with him. Bachchan has the good sense to back off and let Irrfan take the stage, and at the end of the scene, you fully buy it when Bhaskar seems to literally be cut down to size.
Irrfan’s verbal sparring with Bachchan and Padukone is a joy to behold. He also has some tender scenes with the latter in the second half of Piku, and watching them makes you realise what a sheer gift his performance was in this film. Irfan’s ability to convey humour and pathos was apparent in The Lunchbox, but that film is not really a ‘Bollywood’ film. It’s a humanist drama that is more in line with the films of Satyajit Ray, and Irrfan’s performance in it is precisely and carefully calibrated.
Piku, however, is a far more ‘mainstream’ film, which is what makes Irfan’s performance seem so extraordinary. He’s good in an almost casual way, with his ruffled hair and scarf and his easy line deliveries. He brings Rana to life so effortlessly that you accept without question that he would leave his work behind to take a seemingly mad father and his headstrong daughter on a journey of more than a thousand miles. You accept his verbal beatdown of Bhaskar because you know he has actually come to like the old man, and when you see him playing badminton with Piku at the end of the film, you hope they’re together despite the prickliness of their earlier interactions.
What a performance and what a career! Rest in peace, Mr Khan. You will be sorely missed.