In a world which tends to focus only on the leading men and women in movies, all too often we are inclined to forget the other characters who go into the making of a substantive story. Take, for instance, the matter of comedy. All across the subcontinent, comedians have played significant roles in the building up of a tale, in much the same way that the clown or fool was an integral part, comic relief if you will, in Shakespearean tragedy.
Here in Bangladesh, where humour appears increasingly to be turning into a thing of the past, there were once comedians who gave us all the much needed doses of laughter in the movie halls. How can you ever forget Rabiul, that skinny young man who was obsessed, as part of the story, with regular physical exercises in the belief that he could indeed turn into a healthy being? And then there was Khan Jainul, whose comic performances remain inimitable, to a point where no one has been able to replace him. He had sophistication of a different kind, which came with that endearing grin extending from ear to ear.
Jainul is dead and so is another powerful comic actor named Ashish Kumar Louha. There was class in Louha. Spectacles sliding down his nose, the stare in his eyes informed you that good-natured wickedness was on the way. These days, Anisul Haq, that quintessential man with that charming Noakhali accent, is an aging thespian. And yet there was a time when his presence in the movies, in drama, electrified audiences to no end.
Think of Saifuddin, another powerful actor who added newer dimensions to the world of our comedy. He was there in the movies and in well-known television plays, convincing us all that he was indispensable. ATM Shamsuzzaman, with that leering question, eka naki?, continues to make us roll in laughter with his spontaneous demonstrations of humour. Farid Ali, not much in the public eye these days, once regaled us with his maddening taka den Dubai zamu statement. Enamul Haq is a man we love to no end. You still cannot forget the gleam in his eyes as he makes a pass at the young woman in a play. For the naughtier ones amongst us, it is his question to the woman we remember only too well: Keda? Shyamoli na?
Ah, those old days of naturally induced laughter! These days, you surely have comedians everywhere — in cinema, on television, at cultural programmes. Somehow they do not have the sparks that marked comedy in the old days. Humour, you see, is never a contrived affair. It must come from somewhere deep inside you. Remember Telly Samad?
Here in Bangladesh, where humour appears increasingly to be turning into a thing of the past, there were once comedians who gave us all the much needed doses of laughter in the movie halls. How can you ever forget Rabiul, that skinny young man who was obsessed, as part of the story, with regular physical exercises in the belief that he could indeed turn into a healthy being? And then there was Khan Jainul, whose comic performances remain inimitable, to a point where no one has been able to replace him. He had sophistication of a different kind, which came with that endearing grin extending from ear to ear.
Jainul is dead and so is another powerful comic actor named Ashish Kumar Louha. There was class in Louha. Spectacles sliding down his nose, the stare in his eyes informed you that good-natured wickedness was on the way. These days, Anisul Haq, that quintessential man with that charming Noakhali accent, is an aging thespian. And yet there was a time when his presence in the movies, in drama, electrified audiences to no end.
Think of Saifuddin, another powerful actor who added newer dimensions to the world of our comedy. He was there in the movies and in well-known television plays, convincing us all that he was indispensable. ATM Shamsuzzaman, with that leering question, eka naki?, continues to make us roll in laughter with his spontaneous demonstrations of humour. Farid Ali, not much in the public eye these days, once regaled us with his maddening taka den Dubai zamu statement. Enamul Haq is a man we love to no end. You still cannot forget the gleam in his eyes as he makes a pass at the young woman in a play. For the naughtier ones amongst us, it is his question to the woman we remember only too well: Keda? Shyamoli na?
Ah, those old days of naturally induced laughter! These days, you surely have comedians everywhere — in cinema, on television, at cultural programmes. Somehow they do not have the sparks that marked comedy in the old days. Humour, you see, is never a contrived affair. It must come from somewhere deep inside you. Remember Telly Samad?
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