Chandran’s face reflects boredom, fatigue, and disappointment. It’s there in his gait, the way he plops down on a chair, or in how he looks through the members of his own family. One gets the feeling that Chandran has stopped living and is merely existing. Most days he tries to while away his time, drinking and doing little else in his run-down printing press. He knows that his wife is moving heaven and earth to run the household, and that his eldest son resents him, but Chandran is too immersed in his misery to register the unhappy faces around him.
In Malayalam film Falimy, Jagadish imbibes Chandran’s desolation with such a studied flair that it’s easy to ignore him, like how we might overlook someone like that in our own families. There is an ease with which he carries Chandran on screen, but you know that it also comes from a space of unlearning. Nearly a few decades ago, the same actor, the pro that he is at the oddball act, would have aced the character of his on-screen younger son. But at the age of 68, though it took a while, Jagadish has seamlessly made that transition from a comedian to a character actor.
Finding his niche
Jagadish, who debuted as a loud and comical cabaret announcer in My Dear Kuttichathan (1984), had to take the long route to find his niche as an actor. Though he is attributed as a story writer in the riotous comedies Mutharamkunnu P.O, Akkare Ninnoru Maran (1985), and the iconic oddball comic caper, Mazha Peyyunnu Maddalam Kottunnu (1986), it took a while for the actor to be taken seriously. Thankfully the timing turned out to be right, as a fresh, energetic, irreverent brand of comedy was well on its way to taking over Malayalam cinema. Priyadarshan’s Poochakkoru Mookkuthi (1984), a spectacular comedy of errors had just landed, where each piece of comedy was a keepsake and Jagadish was an actor born for the genre.
Not surprisingly, one of his first notable appearances (though a cameo) was in Priyadarshan’s social satire Vellanakalude Naadu (1988), wherehe plays Kumaran, one of the labourers employed by the film’s protagonist Pavithran Nair (Mohanlal). Kumaran was one of the earliest hints of the actor’s ability to readily play an everyday man, grazing it with a touch of clownish humour. He followed it up with Palunni in Sangham (1988), the goofball of the pack. In retrospect, the actor did a more nuanced version of the same character as the iconic Mayankutty in Godfather (1991) years later.
No other actor has been able to sell goofiness with such alacrity and naturality as Jagadish. The clumsy stutter, hasty walk, and dopey grin are traits he infuses in faintly different tonalities for his various comic characters. Take three of his most cherished celluloid comic depictions – Appu Kuttan (In Harihar Nagar, 1990), Mayankutty (Godfather), and Hridaya Bhanu (Hitler, 1996). In hindsight, they are all attached to a universal goofy code language. Appu Kuttan is a half-witted man who can create havoc with his naivety. The actor brings an earnestness to the silliness — look out for his reactions to the In Harihar Nagar scene when he deliberately ‘bumps’ into the old man to get ‘acquainted’ and a comedy of errors unfolds. Or that spontaneous wail that follows Mahadevan’s fake sob story. Make no mistake, a lesser actor would have faltered there.
Mayankutty, meanwhile, is more of a court jester who inadvertently starts the mayhem in everyone’s life. He means well but his efforts inevitably land everyone else in trouble. His snicker when a scantily-clad Ramabadran faces Malu in his hostel room, or that torrent of laughs that eventually dissolves into a knock-out at the café are moments only Jagadish can pull off with such elan. “In Siddique-Lal films, everything will be there in the script. There is no need for improvisation. The humour is borrowed from their own life,” Jagadish recalls in an interview.
In Hitler too, Hridaya Banu is the one who eases the tension. Sure, he is intimidated by Madhavan Kutty (Mammootty), but that never stops him from having fun. That includes flirting with his young sister behind his back or challenging him to an open feud. The kind of little details he brings to his character and aces also look deceptively easy.
In Mukha Chithram (1991), he is the school peon in dandy clothes who has a gargantuan crush on the heroine (Sunitha) and would casually pass awfully written poems inside school circulars. Can anyone forget that scene when he accidentally smears chilli powder on his eyes while taking an oath?
The annoyingly street-smart Rajendran who woos his boss’s daughter and blatantly borrows money from his friends in Shubhayathra (1990) is another character that’s seldom mentioned. So is the local postman, Ulpalakshan, who takes a shine to the newly arrived female residents in his neighbourhood in EnnumNanmakal (1991).
Turning into a reliable hero
In the mid 90’s, there was a Jagadish-Siddique-Mukesh hero phase in Malayalam cinema. Whenever he headlined a film, the actor was also smart enough to play on his strengths. In Sthalathe Pradhana Payyans (1993), he plays Gopalakrishnan, who grows from being a pawn in a larger political game to the position of a home minister in the state. Written by Renji Panicker and directed by Shaji Kailas, it was a role tailor made for the actor and he ably pulls it off. He went on to be part of various middling comedy dramas (Mimics Parade, Manthrikacheppu, Kunukkitta Kozhi, Vakkeel Vasudev, Simhavalan Menon) that mostly worked at the box office and surprisingly still has recall value.
What Jagadish consistently brought to the table was his inimitable comic timing — take this comic gem where he tries to coax Siddique into penning an English love letter in Manthrikacheppu. The utter innocence with which he insists that Siddique ends that letter with— “If you love me, also, I love if you” is a Jagadish staple.
But then every time he shifted to sombre roles; something seemed to rein him in. The subservient husband or son characters in regressive narratives such as Sthreedhanam (1993), Bharya (1994), and Grihaprevesam (1992) sat precariously on the actor, who never got around to giving more than two or three stock expressions. But he compensated by effectively playing the funny sidekicks of Mammootty and Mohanlal in various films (Manthrikam, Agnidevan, Jackpot, Butterflies, Kuttettan).
His filmography as a writer isn’t much discussed. And it is quite diverse—there is romance (Manivathoorile Aayiram Sivarathrikal), thriller (News, Adhipan), drama (Oru Muthassi Katha) and comedy (April Fool).
The actor’s Television stint apart from a sitcom on Doordarshan (Kairali Vilasam Lodge) has mostly been as a host and judge on reality shows. Let’s just say that he takes himself too seriously in those roles (far too loud).
Between the late 90s and 2015, though he averaged six to seven films a year, one had the feeling that the glorious years were behind him. If the late 90s and early 2000s can be termed as a lean period in Malayalam cinema, the last decade witnessed a creative revival of the medium with regard to themes, milieu, and ethnicity. So Jagadish too decided to step up and rejig his craft and priorities, to accommodate himself into this new wave in Malayalam cinema.
Brave choices, better results
There is an irony in how his second innings is shaping up. The same actor who looked ill at ease in serious roles suddenly seemed to have found a new zone out of his comfort. Now, here is an actor who is eager to experiment and shrug off his constraints by plunging into newer terrains.
TW: Next para contains mentions of sexual abuse
The debauched father who violates his daughter in Ranjith’s Leela (2016) was perhaps the first of many instances when he attempts to push away from his comfort zone. The scene in which he eyes his daughter and proceeds to abuse her is revolting. “I had my reservations when I was offered the role, especially considering my image. But then it was my family who encouraged me to go ahead,” the actor had said in a recent interview. In interviews, he comes across as sensible and perceptive, infinitely passionate about films, and eager to talk about his craft.
The crooked doctor in Bhramam (2021) was another nice attempt, and so was the trusted aide of Kotta Madhu in Kaapa (2022). In Krishnad’s Purusha Pretham (2023), Jagadish was a find as the ageing subordinate of a verbally abusive senior. Dileep has witnessed the ugly side of his job and is trained to process the insults that come his way. At home, he is as servile in front of his rude son-in-law and is careful not to displease anyone. The constable in Rorschach (2022) is as grey as the rest of the film’s characters, while in Mukundan Unni Associates (2022), he is efficient and no-nonsense as Judge Sangeshwaran.
In his second coming, he seems poised for better things.
Watch the trailer for Falimy
Neelima Menon has worked in the newspaper industry for more than a decade. She has covered Hindi and Malayalam cinema for The New Indian Express and has worked briefly with Silverscreen.in. She now writes exclusively about Malayalam cinema, contributing to Fullpicture.in and thenewsminute.com. She is known for her detailed and insightful features on misogyny and the lack of representation of women in Malayalam cinema.
Views expressed are the author’s own.
