Band Baaja Baaraat to Gully Boy, Some Shades of Ranveer Singh Are for the Ages

From a boyish charm to an almost sensual gaze at masculinity, Ranveer Singh is more than he seems.

How do you not hear about Ranveer Singh? Even before friends, family, and foes tweeted and texted, "Did you see that photoshoot he did??" it was difficult to not hear about him. 

I heard of Ranveer Singh in 2013 when my friend wondered if Vikramaditya Motwane could have possibly captured the art of O Henry's 'The Last Leaf' in Lootera. I knew very little of the art of cinema back then but I remember looking at 'Varun' and thinking, 'I like this actor'.

As Varun, Singh has a boyish charm about him that morphs into both sincerity and betrayal. When Varun says, 'Beta Devdas, ek din mai masterpiece banaunga,' you feel compelled to believe him; to believe Ranveer Singh. 

It was perhaps natural to go and watch his debut Band Baaja Baaraat. This is where the seeds were sown for the Singh we see in the Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani trailer. The actor had called his character a 'typical Delhi boy' and he played the role with such an earnest charm. 'Bittoo' has the wide-eyed ingenue look down to a T.

If you saw Ranveer Singh on the street, he'd cut a picture of typical hyper-masculinity, a trope Bollywood has held close to its chest for a long time. But his refusal to stick to that image is what makes him more endearing than intimidating. 

Something about the persona he has built off-screen helps the characters he plays on screen. Even before he became India's answer to a 'wife guy', he juggled the expectations from a 'hero'. He is often exaggerated to the level of being obnoxious; his personality and his fashion choices can be a heady mix (affectionately). 

I wouldn't go as far as to say that the actor has absolutely broken the barrier of gender norms but he is one of the few actors who you can trust to emote beyond the role a formula films hands over to male leads on a silver platter. 

Success quickly followed the actor, with roles in Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Goliyon Ki Rasleela Ram-Leela, Bajirao Mastani, and Padmavat.

With the first, he shifted from the Everyman to a character of sensuality, matching the performance of the female lead (Deepika Padukone). This sensuality takes on an undeniable queerness in the third. 

These films were punctuated with Gunday and Dil Dhadakne Do. The former, an albeit middling ode to 70s cinema, gave the actor the space to show off his boyish charm yet again, this time with an edge to it. Arguably it's not his best work. But the latter is. 

Dil Dhadakne Do is one of my favourite Ranveer Singh performances. As the younger son of a family unit that is rapidly fraying at the edges, he is subdued in moments when everyone around him is bubbling with rage.

He has an almost quiet comic timing as Kabir that makes you want to look for this sense in his other roles as well. 

And yet he retains his ‘typical Delhi boy’ edge; despite having a less fleshed out character, his act is more layered than some of his other outings. Watching this film knowing it’s a Zoya Akhtar film and then watching Ranveer Singh within the confines of that knowledge makes you wonder, “Is he a director’s actor?”

Because Simmba and Sooryavanshi see you struggling to find the charm in Singh through the noise. But then there’s a Gully Boy (Zoya Akhtar strikes again); a story of Murad Ahmed, a college student from Dharavi standing on the cusp of glory. Murad’s pen writes out the dissent and rage in his head even as he uses music to drown out the cacophony of his circumstances. 

And boy, does Singh manage to capture Murad in his mind. If Band Baaja Baaraat’s Singh had the innocence of an ingenue, Gully Boy’s Singh has the innocence of an artist standing right off stage waiting for their shot. 

As with his success streak, Gully Boy was followed by a rough patch: 83, Jayeshbhai Jordaar, and Cirkus. All films failed to make a mark at the box office, but Singh’s ability to transform himself into his roles was appreciated (at least in the first two). As Kapil Dev, he’s unrecognisable in 83; he wears the character like a second skin. In Jayeshbhai Jordaar, the earnest Singh returns. 

There’s little I can say about Cirkus except that Ranveer Singh as an actor has more to give. Like he said in his interview with Paper, “I’m so hungry for work, to do, to give, to perform, to ideate, to create, to collaborate. I have a ravenous appetite for work.”

Maybe it’s this ravenous hunger that pushes him to try and experiment in films both good and bad. 

Almost like a zany scientist, he plays one character after another, aiming perhaps for knowledge more than success. It’s this hunger that makes Ranveer Singh stand out among the crowd (the extravagant clothes aside); his almost sensual gaze at the masculine and his need to be himself despite criticism. 

There’s so many shades of Ranveer Singh, off-screen and on screen, and so many of them are beyond endearing.