Recently, I shared a passport picture of my 20-year-old self on social media for a lark. To my surprise, it stirred a huge response, and more importantly, people began to look at me as well as perceive me differently. I too enjoy the surprise element when actors dramatically transform their appearances onscreen — whether with the help of professional prosthetics or through diet regimens or with the aid of snazzy VFX and camerawork. Looking different challenges their creativity, helps them hold audience attention, enriches their oeuvre and consequently their appeal.
No wonder, stars today are dauntlessly playing with their million-dollar looks like never before. Shah Rukh Khan, who thrives on larger-than-life characters, is essaying the role of a vertically challenged man — dwarf seems politically incorrect in these high-strung times — in his forthcoming film, Zero; and this will be a litmus test of his popularity with his followers.
His contemporary Akshay Kumar has also taken two giant leaps into the unknown — not only is he playing a super villain in the massively budgeted sci-fi actioner 2.0 opposite South superstar Rajnikant but he has also dared to shed his matinee idol image. Akshay is barely recognisable in the impressive computer-generated bird-of-prey look he sports in the film. The long hours he had to spend in the makeup room while the prosthetics artist did his job reportedly made him a patient and calmer person.
In recent years, the most startling transformation has been that of Amitabh Bachchan in Paa. Painstakingly, and painfully, applied prosthetics convincingly turned him into a pre-teen child living with the degenerative disorder, progeria. In the past, there were two masters of guises — veteran villain Pran and thespian Sanjeev Kumar. Sanjeev played a record-breaking nine roles in Naya Din Nayi Raat (1974) to showcase the nav rasas of human emotions but the only person who deserved to be lauded was his personal makeup man, Sarosh Modi.
In my opinion, Sanjeev Kumar was an extraordinary actor and needs to be lauded for his attempt but he didn’t impress me in the roles except perhaps as the effeminate stage actor. I preferred him in Anubhav and Koshish, any day. He also went all out to look hideous as Dr Hyde in the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde inspired Chehre Pe Chehra (1981). For Sanjeev, transformations were no big deal — he could play father (Parichay), father-in-law (Sholay) and romantic hero (Anamika) to Jaya Bhaduri.
As a newbie journalist, I was fascinated by Shashi Kapoor’s get-up as the obese Sansthanak who is obsessed with the beautiful courtesan Vasantsena in the period film Utsav (1985). He had put on multiple kilos for the role. I requested the publicist Gopal Pandey to organise an interview-cum-photoshoot in which I could showcase Shashi Kapoor’s transformation from his suave good-looking self to the lecherous Sansthanak.
Shashi Kapoor gamely agreed and I saw a miracle unfold in front of my eyes. It’s another matter that the extra weight led to Shashi starting his innings as a character actor (Alag Alag, 1985) thereafter. Shabana Azmi also put on oodles of weight and chewed betel nut convincingly to bring alive Rukmini Bai, the authoritative madam of a Hyderabad brothel in Mandi.
Sometimes, the makeover backfires. Dharmendra’s sooty complexion as an Abbysynian slave in Razia Sultan (1983) may have won the hearts of the onscreen Razia (Hema Malini) but the film won him no new fans. And sometimes, the sheer effort at a makeover earns the star major brownie points. Raj Kapoor was on the lookout for a heroine to play the scarred Roopa in his ambitious venture Satyam Shivam Sundaram (1978). One day, Zeenat Aman landed at the RK cottage, having already donned scarred-face makeup; and an impressed Raj Kapoor happily gave her the role instantly. Reportedly, Deepika Padukone will now play an acid-attack survivor in a film helmed by Meghna Gulzar and it will be interesting to see her approach to the role.
In contemporary times, even a famously crusty veteran like Rishi Kapoor sits patiently for hours to transform into the 90-year-old grandfather in Kapoor & Sons (2016). He may swear below his breath while the prosthetic artist subjects him to the ordeal to look authentic but he gamely takes it in his stride. I am told Sharmila Tagore was reluctant to don a white wig to play Rajesh Khanna’s prison-returned mother in Aradhana (1969). Dev Anand, who loved the sobriquet of evergreen hero, lived to be 88 but refused to grey his hair on screen. Today, things have undergone a change — it is the age of the transformers.
