The Big Baritone

October 13, 2016 01:51 pm | Updated 09:55 pm IST

With Amitabh Bachchan turning 74 on October 11, here’s a look at some films where his voice, rather than his physical presence, created magic.

A voice that got rejected by All India Radio but went on to become among the most recognisable in the country. If there were ever a Home Video paying a tribute to Amitabh Bachchan’s baritone, this would be the easiest catchphrase to use. His command over Hindi and Urdu and the clarity in his pronunciation are aspects that lesser mortals can only dream of imitating. As his character says, with a touch of arrogance, in Shamitabh , where his voice more than his personality plays the lead: “ Ye awaaz ek kutte ke muh se bhi achchi lagegi ” (“This voice can bring life to the character of even a stray dog”.)

In a sense, Bachchan’s innings as a sutradhar (narrator) in films began a few months before his career as an actor. Bhuvan Shome , where he played the narrator, released before his first film Saat Hindustani . But his unusual voice apart, which alternated between an uneasy, languorous gentlemanliness and a roaring, booming majesty, what could have made Bachchan such a suitable candidate for this pivotal element in films?

Being the son of Harivansh Rai Bachchan, a leading neo-romantic poet of the mid-20th century, it is quite natural that Bachchan would have had exposure to the best of Hindi and Urdu literature in his early days. His impeccable command over the language was hence a given. However, succeeding as a narrator in films required another attribute: the ability to submit one’s voice completely to the vision of the writer and director. In this regard, one overlooked aspect of Amitabh’s career is that a few misfires in the 1980s and 1990s apart, he has always been a director’s actor.

A sutradhar sets the mood for the narrative to unfold: his voice doesn’t just hold the thread of the story, it also makes it memorable and adds to its repeat value by book-ending it. The importance becomes more-pronounced when the film has a literary or historical core. Here, someone with the ability to bring together language, voice and diction becomes a live protagonist even without a physical presence. Of the nearly 210 films Bachchan has done in his career, 20 have been as a sutradhar . These are some of the most important:

a) Bhuvan Shome (1969):

For the first 20 minutes, the narrator’s voice figures in the story more than even that of the lead character. The aim here is to introduce the lonely self of an eccentric railway officer, Bhuvan Shome, a man of few words. At some points, the narrator becomes a participant in the story himself, having a dialogue with Shome’s inner voice. The sutradhar here becomes a bridge between the inscrutable self of Shome and the curious eyes of the audience. Being a Mrinal Sen movie, in an almost semi-documentary format, Bachchan’s satirical voice gives more incentives to the audience to stay invested in the story.

b) Bawarchi (1972):

Apart from introducing the flawed characters in Shanti Nivas, where this comedy unfolds, Bachchan’s voice also substitutes the need to have opening credits. Hence, his participation begins even before the story begins and stays on till the very end.

c) Shatranj Ke Khiladi (1977):

The sutradhar ’s voice, which sticks to shudh Hindi with some sprinklings of Bengali in Bhuvan Shome, blends Urdu and Hindi effortlessly here, Premchand-style. As it introduces Mirza Sajjad Ali and Mir Roshan Ali, two landlords immerse in their game of chess, the sarcasm in the voice and warning of an impending doom start becoming apparent. Just as in Bhuvan Shome , the voice occasionally participates in the narrative, this time by coaxing the protagonists, acting as a substitute for their inner voice.

Perhaps, Satyajit Ray, in his only Hindi feature film, could not have found a better voice to bring the flavour of Avadh to the screen.

d) Ghulami (1985):

Here, the sutradhar becomes content to introduce just the lead character, Ranjit Singh, a local rebel in British India in the deserts of Rajasthan. The intention is to make that one character, out of the many in the story, stand out as a hero.

e) Lagaan (2001):

The very first teaser of this Oscar-nominated epic figured Bachchan’s voice juxtaposed with the opening riff of the Ghanan-Ghanan song, indicating that the sutradhar ’s presence will linger throughout the film.

Though the story was set in Champaner, which we are given to believe was part of Gujarat, the dialogues were heavily influenced by Avadhi. While the narrator gives a sense of the location and time at the beginning, his intention at the end — after the local team has won the cricket match — seems to be more to project Bhuvan as a hero, one who stands out of the crowd, one whose contribution lays forgotten in the annals of history.

f) Parineeta (2005):

An adaptation of Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s novella by the same name. Here, the narrator, giving a glimpse of his affection for the city of Calcutta, uses rhyming as a tool to connect such antagonistic elements like bahas (debate) and tahas-nahas (destruction), indicating that the city was privy to both in the early 1960s. This being a love story, it is quite natural that the rhyming will end on a romantic note: it ends with prem ke dhai aakhar (a few words of love) and Lolita aur Shekhar (the names of the lead characters). Despite the song Amar Shonar Bangla setting the mood, the absence of Bengali in the narrator’s language while describing Calcutta is a little disappointing, indicating that he sees himself as an outsider taking pleasure in visiting the city.

g) Jodhaa Akbar (2008):

Through the use of Urdu-Persian phrases and words like Itihaas gavaah hai (history is witness); mughaliya hukumat (Mughal Empire) and sarzameen (land/nation), the narrator’s voice introduces the early Mughal period, when art, culture and music in its syncretic Hindustani form witnessed a renaissance. As the film ends, use of the Hindi word mahatva instead of its Urdu equivalent ahmiyat (as a way to say ‘importance’), indicates that, just like Lagaan , the narrator has stepped out of the story to land in the present. Bachchan’s voice, which had a certain vulnerability in the 70s and 80s, becomes firm and hoarse here.

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