As late as December 2021, a leading journal listed the 10 best actresses of Hindi cinema. Mind you, this is 10 ‘best’ actresses – not most glamorous or beautiful or successful. The list included the usual suspects — Madhubala, Nargis, Meena Kumari, Hema Malini, Rekha – each with their trademark media epithets, the ‘most beautiful’, the ‘tragedy queen’, the ‘dream girl’, the ‘diva’. It also had surprising inclusions like Sridevi, Aishwarya Rai, Madhuri Dixit, Kajol and Deepika Padukone. Surprising primarily because of the glaring omissions – Waheeda Rehman, Vyjayanthimala, Jaya Bhaduri, Sharmila Tagore, Rakhee and, above all, Nutan.
Nutan essayed a range of roles that measured up both critically and as a star. If she is the consummate picture of anguish in Saraswatichandra, she sashayed with infectious joie de vivre in ‘Chhor do aanchal’ (Paying Guest). She was as at ease with the soulful ‘Saawan ka mahina’ (Milan) as she was matching Kishore Kumar expression for expression in the madcap ditty ‘C-a-t, cat mane billi’ (Dilli Ka Thug). In these five films, Nutan provides a glimpse of the range she was capable of, one that made her head and shoulders above not only her contemporaries but all those who followed.
Seema (1955)
Nutan’s breakthrough film is an acting tour-de-force like few others in the annals of Hindi cinema. She is pure dynamite as an orphan who becomes a juvenile delinquent after being ill-treated, molested and falsely accused of theft, before she finds shelter in an orphanage. She carries her angst against all forms of authority, and her first meeting with the manager of the orphanage, played by Balraj Sahni, is a remarkable battle of nerves as she is hell-bent on making it difficult for the people who run the home.
A catfight with an inmate, played by Shobha Khote, then beating up her tormenter Baanke (C.S. Dubey), and then the pièce de résistance when she is confined to a solitary stay in a room overnight as punishment. In one of the finest expositions of bundled-up despair and anger finding a release, she tears up the pillows, breaks the furniture and creates general mayhem. This sequence, appearing at one hour 26 minutes, involving her mock-rendition of ‘Mosey beimaani karein… mann mohana’ as she continues to smash windowpanes, is a highlight.
Sujata (1959)
Bimal Roy’s classic take on untouchability, though a trifle overcooked with a melodramatic climax and a tendency towards preachiness, boasts one of Nutan’s best performances. As the Harijan brought up in a high-caste family, as ‘almost like our daughter’, she is brilliant as she asks her foster mother who she is and why tea served by a house help is palatable and not by her. Just look at her wince when Adhir (a Brahmin, played by Sunil Dutt) touches her – the frisson is as much owing to her first ‘sexual’ contact as it is because she is aware of the social transgression it involves which has none of the pleasures of the man-woman touch. Heightening the effect is the way the director juxtaposes this touch with Nutan brushing against a mimosa pudica or touch-me-not plant which folds its leaves when touched. Never given to outward expression of praise for a good performance – the most the director would say if he liked a shot was ‘okay’ – Nutan’s performance here left Bimal Roy moist-eyed.
Bandini (1963)
Arguably one of the finest female performances of Indian cinema, Nutan as Kalyani is a class act, her face a kaleidoscope of emotions: happy-go-lucky and spirited girl, the insane fury that leads her to commit murder, the quiet and demure jailbird. Worthy of special mention is the scene in which Kalyani decides to kill her ex-lover’s wife, made more eloquent by the director’s treatment of the scene. As she rages and seethes, plotting to poison the woman she hates, her face is lit by the sparks of workers hammering away at iron.
It’s a superbly understated performance that conveys through her eyes the anguish of a tortured soul, a broken heart, the inner conflict for freedom (the theme underlying the film and her character’s motivations) that tears her apart, and the inherent strength of character that will brook no opposition.
Tere Ghar Ke Saamne (1963)
In the same year that she wowed audiences and critics with her histrionics in Bandini, Nutan demonstrated the light and bubbly side to her with what is arguably among the best romantic comedies in Hindi cinema. She had already demonstrated her comic potential in films like Paying Guest and Dilli Ki Thug (albeit primarily in song sequences). Here she charms the pants off with her sparkling repartee and a luminosity that is hard to resist, easily out-elaning the last word in elan, Dev Anand. And I use the word bubbly with reason – just sample this song sequence, as much a tribute to the genius of director Vijay Anand as it is to Nutan (shivering in the glass of wine as Dev Anand drops a cube of ice in it).
Saudagar (1973)
Ten years after she hit the peak of her career with Bandini and Tere Ghar Ke Saamne, Nutan is equally marvellous in this quiet gem of a film that rivals her performance in Bandini. As a poor elderly widow, Mahjhubi, who falls victim to Motalef’s (Amitabh Bachchan) deceit, she is a picture of grace and resoluteness, coming to terms with the bad hand fate has dealt her. Motalef is an expert date palm juice extractor who needs Mahjhubi’s expertise in cooking it to fine jaggery before he can sell it in the market. He enters into a marriage of expediency with her, enabling him to raise the money he needs for the meher that will allow him to marry the youthful and curvaceous Phulbano (Padma Khanna). His goal achieved, Motalef accuses Mahjhubi of infidelity and divorces her. As the exploited yet courageous Mahjhubi, Nutan showcases an astonishing range – from vulnerability to a short stab at happiness to understated scorn and anger as she confronts Moti when he decides to leave her. Her performance also provides a rare portrait of contemporary working women in India and the exploitation of their labour.
(Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri is a film and music buff, editor, publisher, film critic and writer)
