Irrfan Khan

“I, like many Indian cinephiles, had loved Irrfan for a really long time. That fondness was intense, but I thought, in a country ruled by Aamir, Salman, and Shahrukh Khan, I was in a minority. That misconception was shattered on October 2, 2014, when I went to watch Haider… Around the half-way mark, the film cut to a few shots of snow-capped Kashmir. Which then transitioned to an out-of-focus figure limping in the snow. The background music began to kick in, as that man finally emerged in full light: wearing a cap and glares, swinging his shawl on the left shoulder. It was a thrilling moment — very dramatic, very hero-like — but what happened next was even more surprising. The audience erupted into a loud applause; some of them whistled. It’s the kind of reception that’s usually reserved for the three Khans.”

| Homage

“When he spoke, words automatically acquired heft. Many an undeserving, ordinarily written role and dialogues are indebted to his oratory finesse, a perennial contender for ‘rose above the script’… Irrfan’s thairav became his instrument and composed his characters accordingly. Every character, like a song, carried its own rhythm and metre. His control over his art without making it look like a big deal lend him lasting credibility and coloured some of the strangest scenes with irresistible grace… Irrfan transcended celluloid and gave us a taste of his humility and humanity. A powerhouse, an ustaad, a yaar, a romantic, a cricket aficionado, he left me speechless with his artistry.”

| Homage

“Irrfan worked very hard to give his best in front of the camera, processing what the director had told him about his character. But he also thought about the larger picture — the film overall and how the supporting actors around him were performing. It was never just about him.”

| Homage

“For film critics of my generation, and perhaps of a generation before mine, Irrfan was the first actor one had to wrestle with — he prided on giving us moments for which we didn’t yet have descriptions.”

| Homage

“Eyes define actors. More than their smiles may be. Extreme closeups on the face capture the eyes more than the lips, any day, for any one. It is the eyes that classify Om Puri’s luminance. It is them that he can mask in Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron and still be so palpable, so effective, so radiant. It is the eyes of Nawazuddin Siddiqui that shine with bright luminance, in Manto and also in a few others. It is the dream in Apu and Amal, the intensity of Feluda and the helplessness of the doctor that makes Soumitra Chatterjee’s eyes so versatile, so redolent. And, it is the eyes of Irrfan that bulge and speak, at the verge to explode, at the simmering end of a journey… He was the unique incandescence in a plethora of excesses in Hindi cinema.”

| Homage

“I never realized that when I watched him on screen, I automatically expected more from every aspect – the other actors, the direction, the composition, the production value, the sound – of his frame. I never realized that every time I was disappointed with a film or another actor, it was because they were being measured on a mental scale of 1 to Irrfan in my head. I never realized that the cacophony of masala cinema started to seem futile because Irrfan’s lilting voice had begun to turn every piece of dialogue into the poetry of verbal reaction. I never realized that only a handful of films truly managed to outline the mundanity of his nuance. I never realized that my adolescent love for the movies matured into adult companionship the moment I first saw Irrfan in and as Maqbool. I never realized that the deadpan lessness of his gait made me want to think about a scene rather than be “seduced” by it. I never realized that an artist could be everywhere even if my focus was nowhere.”

| Homage