Nawazuddin Siddiqui is a gift to cinema, a veritable generational talent whose mastery continues to enrich cinema across languages, industries, platforms and more. Today on Nawaz’s birthday, Filmfare’s Editor-In-Chief Jitesh Pillaai reflects on the actor’s unmatched ability to bare the human soul on screen – raw, visceral and unforgettable.
In his words:

I recently watched Nawaz back-to-back in Raat Akeli Hai and the sequel. And to say that he’s irresistible is stating the obvious. It’s a dry, laconic performance. Just what’s needed for the dryness and aridity of his life. Being volleyed between deception at various levels and a mother who just won’t let up from her matchmaking schemes (Ila Arun, terrific). Be it the original from 2020, which I saw only last night and its current avatar, Raat Akeli Hai- The Bansal Murders, the framing is that of an old-fashioned whodunit which never misses its beat.
While the original probes into the murder in a dysfunctional family in the heart of central India, the new one features a mass murder in a high-profile media mogul’s house. At the centre of it all is Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s Jatil Yadav, whose canny sense realises that there’s more to the murders than meets the eye. He’s socially awkward, yet vigilant and chews up the scenery.

How do you still or ease that which makes you uncomfortable? How does someone show you his wounds and not flinch? How does he tell you an entire story in just the preamble?
How does he show you his soul with just a twitch? Good actors show you their scars, great actors show you their entire being. They show you their lacerations, their mental and physical agony. What’s the word I’m looking for? Visceral? Nawazuddin Siddiqui is that visceral actor. He shows you what’s on the outside and what lies within.
In Manto, his words scorch you; he is irascible and yet he shows you deep moments of vulnerability and brokenness. It’s this very brokenness that Nawaz shows that makes you identify. Because every single one of us is broken immeasurably, and we are trying to put it together. He holds a mirror for you there.
It’s the same brokenness he shows in Season 1 of Sacred Games. It’s the same crazy, manic brokenness he will show you in Raman Raghav 2.0, or Manjhi- The Mountain Man. Even in his diabolical stance, say in Badlapur, you see a man trying to piece himself together.
And there’s his vulnerability. You see it in The Lunchbox and Photograph. It’s like pages of life unfolding. The wounds have healed, and he wants to start all over again.
How can an actor show you vulnerability and meanness and lunacy and manic anger all in one stance? What’s that volcano which bubbles within? How does he do it?
He gives you no false hopes and assurances. He doesn’t offer any redemption. Go on, lick your scars. He’s going to dive deep into yet another role and offer you brilliance, no salvation yet again.
Happy Birthday, Nawaz! May your walk always be on the wild side!
Also Read: Exclusive: Nawazuddin Siddiqui on Facing Mental Health Challenges: “Mood Kharab Bolte Thhe Usko”