A bad performance in a hit film will be remembered, but a great performance in a flop won’t. This is the harsh reality of commercial Hindi cinema, where quality is inconsequential to success. Arjun Kapoor would know; his finest performance came in a movie that nobody watched. And those that did, misunderstood and mischaracterised it. Either in an act of deliberate vindictiveness or casual apathy, the theatrical release of Dibakar Banerjee’s Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar was pushed numerous times, with the pandemic finally presenting itself as the rug it could be swept under. It was an unfortunate blow for everybody involved; Kapoor’s career, one can observe, never really recovered.
But that isn’t because he’s bad at his job. Far worse actors have enjoyed far greater success. It’s because, as a person, he projects an inherent vulnerability that simply doesn’t align with the Hindi film industry’s idea of leading men. But this vulnerability is perhaps what made him such an ideal candidate to play Satinder ‘Pinky’ Dahiya in Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar. Pinky is a suspended cop from Haryana, who, in a desperate effort to be reinstated, agrees to drive a young woman named Sandeep to her death. Conscience strikes when she tells him she’s pregnant and on the run because she was about to expose a massive scandal at her workplace. Together, they hide out at a border town in Uttarakhand and plot to cross over into Nepal.
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Arjun Kapoor in a still from Dibakar Banerjee’s Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar.
Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar didn’t earn particularly positive reviews after its theatrical debut; it was only after the movie was unceremoniously dumped on Prime Video — even Kapoor wasn’t told about it — that it found its true audience. This was perhaps the pandemic era’s first real sign of changing times and tastes. There was a clear distinction between a streaming audience and a theatre-going audience. Kapoor himself had experienced something like this a couple of years earlier, albeit in a second-hand fashion. He played a cameo in Vikramaditya Motwane’s Bhavesh Joshi Superhero, which found similar success after its streaming debut.
It is clear from the very first scene of the film that Pinky isn’t the sort of rowdy Haryanvi character that Hindi cinema typically typecasts in henchman roles. He’s easily provoked, but also a pookie; every fibre of his being appears to be in a constant battle with the patriarchy he’s grown up around. He’s the sort of person who probably got fit only because he didn’t want to stand out in the community he came from; he instinctively grabs Sandy by the throat on a couple of occasions, perhaps because his behaviour has been programmed by the men around him. But he also has the sensitivity to recognise the hurt that this behaviour likely caused his mother, whom he seems to care about.
These are the sort of details that you gather when excellent writing — shout-out, Varun Grover — is married with a good performance. It’s one thing to appreciate the hard work that Kapoor probably put into his dialect and disposition, but accents and affectations are mere accessories. When a performer draws you in with a silent expression, when they make you wonder what’s going on in their mind, that’s when you know that they’ve hit the jackpot. You could admire the way Pinky chews his food, or the way he yawns without covering his mouth. The Salman Khan bracelet on his wrist says so much about who he is. But he communicates so much more when he’s simply wrestling with himself; a wannabe alpha who was probably belittled by his father in front of his cousins.
In an interaction with Pinkvilla not too long ago, actor Rashmika Mandanna spoke highly of her Pushpa 2 co-star Allu Arjun’s ‘alphaness’, in reference to a 20-minute sequence in the movie where he wears a saree. “Imagine someone who has the guts, power, and alphaness to wear a saree, dance in a saree, perform action sequences in a saree, and deliver dialogues in a saree. For 21 minutes of the film, he is wearing a freaking saree. Tell me, what man can do that?” she asked. Why, besides Kamal Haasan, Vijay Sethupathi and so many others? Arjun Kapoor. It’s important to give credit where it’s due. In an on-the-nose metaphor for Pinky finally shedding every last vestige of the patriarchy embedded in his soul, he disguises himself as a woman in the film’s memorable climax, and finds himself emancipated, both literally and otherwise.
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Arjun Kapoor in a still from Dibakar Banerjee’s Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar.
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Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar finds Banerjee revisiting a couple of his favourite themes: systemic corruption and middle-class apathy. He’s a particularly unlucky filmmaker, whose frustration at his never-ending misfortune was recently unleashed in the rather unwatchable Love Sex Aur Dhokha 2. Kapoor seems to have been cursed with similar bad luck. There’s only so much good work going around in Bollywood. His issue isn’t a lack of talent, but a complete inability to discern a good project from a bad one. Nothing else could explain Mere Husband Ki Biwi, Sardarji Ka Grandson, and Ek Villain Returns. In times like this, it is important to remember that even someone as blazingly gifted as Colin Farrell latched onto colourful supporting roles when the lead offers dried up. It worked out well for him. Going on a victory lap for Singham Again isn’t the answer. If there’s one movie that Kapoor should be screaming from the rooftops about, it’s this one.
Post Credits Scene is a column in which we dissect new releases every week, with particular focus on context, craft, and characters. Because there’s always something to fixate about once the dust has settled.
