Four decades after his death, Bengal’s greatest star still commands a devotion that borders on the religious. Uttam Kumar was revelatory in Satyajit Ray’s Nayak (1966), one of his most iconic performances. Every year, in the month of September, when Uttam Kumar was born in Ahiritola in the northern parts of Kolkata, and also in July, when he passed away, people across West Bengal go wild with celebrations in tribute to Uttam Kumar though he passed away in 1980, more than five decades ago. One can therefore imagine what must have happened while celebrating his centenary this year. The shimmering ‘light’ umbrellas, the giant-sized posters of the unforgettable star Uttam Kumar not only decorated Nandan, the cultural centre of the State Government, but also every corner of the city filled with posters from films of the great star, songs from his films playing across the city, almost reminding the lay Kolkata man of the Durga Pooja. But Durga Pooja is more than a month away and here we were witness to the most memorable centenary tribute being paid to just the only actor in India, rare because no other Indian actor’s centenary has been celebrated for almost a week right across the state of West Bengal. Unpromising Beginnings Few today know that his name was Arun Kumar Chatterjee but was changed to ‘Uttam’, meaning ‘the best’ when he stepped into films. His first film Dhristidaan was released in 1948. Some say he made his debut as an ‘extra’ in Mayadore in 1947. Initially, people labelled him ‘Flop Master General’. Every single film he played hero in flopped. It took a long, hard struggle, shedding of silent tears, rising above deep frustration and a determination to succeed that took him to the peak. Many had given him up as a ‘lost case.’ Uttam Kumar had his share of sharp, acidic criticism. When he was riding the crest of success with films opposite Suchitra Sen, setting the screen on fire with their electric chemistry, many intellectuals attacked this good-looking actor with the label of ‘theatrical actor full of mannerisms.’ “He does not know the ABC of acting,” said some. But he silenced them with his sterling performance in Bosu Paribar (1952) directed by Nirmal De. This was his first hit. He became a star with Agni Pareeksha directed by Agradoot. With Suchitra Sen in Harano Sur (1957), one of the films that cemented the unforgettable ‘Uttam-Suchitra’ screen chemistry. His last film, Ogo Bodhu Sundari hit the screens in 1980. He suffered a massive stroke on the studio floors and passed away on July 24. Over three decades, he acted in around 159 Bengali films, investing his characters with a unique charm, whether he played an old faithful servant in Khokababur Pratyabartan based on a short story by Rabindranath Tagore, or whether it was the role of an amnesiac industrialist opposite Suchitra Sen in Harano Sur. As he mellowed into character roles, his performance matured and his screen persona took on a new look. He continued to dominate the screen in mature roles such as the committed doctor in Agnisnaan or the strange villain in Aparichito or Chunilal in Dilip Roy’s Devdas. Total Commitment He would arrive on the sets much before time, repair to his make-up room, put on his make-up and costume and would sit in absolute silence, dwelling on the scenes to be shot that day. The director would summon him when the shot was ready and he would face the camera, living his screen character. “His commitment to acting– the sequence, the chronology of shots, the light arrangements, the make-up and costume, the character he was portraying – was total”, says Tapan Sinha who directed Uttam Kumar in Upahaar, Bicharak, Hansuli Baanker Upakatha, Jhinder Bondi and Jotugriha. This director-actor bonding cracked completely when Sinha dropped Uttam Kumar to pick theatre personality Manoj Mitra for Banchharaamer Bagan. Supriya Devi insisted that it was this shock that brought about the heart attack that finally ended his life. “He heard it from others, not from Tapan-da. He was so totally involved in the role after long discussions with Tapan-da that all he could talk about at home was this film. So, when he heard he was dropped, he could not cope,” she reminisced sadly. In Jhinder Bondi (1961), a striking reminder of the superstar’s versatility. “He would recite the Chandipaath loudly everyday during his morning Pooja. He would read the newspaper loudly to gain command over his diction. He did not have a morsel of food the day he was to shoot the nightmare scene in Nayak where he is shown slowly sucked into a quicksand-like hillock of currency notes. He later said how he really lost his balance and felt smothered under those notes,”said the late Supriya Devi, his leading lady in 33 films and his live-in partner for 20 years till his death. In his authorized autobiography Amaar Ami (1980) written by Gouranga Prasad Ghosh, the reader gets a glimpse of the image of a middle-class urban Bengali who invested tremendously in hard work, perseverance, diligence and grit. It speaks lucidly about a man’s single-minded determination to work his way up the ladder to reach the top, who never takes his success for granted, who is ever ready to learn everything his roles demand him to. Apart from dancing, horse-riding and tennis, he also learnt wrestling at an akhara near Indira cinema, unknown to many. He was a very good singer and tabla player but refused to playback for himself. Before testing the waters of Hindi films, he tried to master Hindi and Urdu too. The book also refers to his commitment to better the working conditions of junior artistes and to improve the status of the film industry in his home state. Remarkable Legacy What makes Uttam Kumar’s legacy remarkable is that it has never depended solely on nostalgia. Each generation seems to discover something different in him — the romantic hero, the sensitive middle-class Bengali, the mature character actor, the singer, the performer who understood the value of preparation and discipline. His appeal crossed the boundaries of class, age and even time. He also represented a particular moment in Bengali cinema when the star system, music, literature and theatre came together to create a distinctive popular culture. Uttam Kumar was at the centre of that world, but he was never merely its glamorous face. Behind the immaculate screen image was a deeply hardworking actor who constantly pushed himself to learn, experiment and improve. That heart-wrenching smile, those mesmerizing eyes still make hearts of women in their 50s and 60s miss a beat. “He is the universal romantic hero of all time, the best Indian cinema has produced since no other star anywhere else in the country has been able to keep his memory alive in the minds of the masses like Uttam Kumar has,” said the late Rabi Basu, a renowned film critic. Up there, Uttam Kumar, looking at that square, corrugated picture of himself archived in a postage stamp, is probably having the last laugh at critics who dubbed him ‘a theatrical actor full of mannerisms,’ or, ‘a chocolate-boy hero who does not know the ABC of acting.’ (The writer is a noted film scholar and a double-winner for the National Award for Best Writing on Cinema who has authored books on the cinema of Mrinal Sen, Ritwik Ghatak and Suchitra Sen among others. Views personal.)
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