The heavily pronounced Irinjalakuda slang, that bashful tilt of his head, the peculiar gesticulations, the fine balance between subtlety and hyperbole, and the unforgettable one-liners delivered with soft precision. What made Innocent one of the most cheering sights in Malayalam cinema is all of these and more.
Like most in his legion of stupendously talented supporting actors (Oduvil Unnikrishnan, Sukumari, KPAC Lalitha, Nedumudi Venu, Thilakan, Sankaradi, Mammukoya, Kuthiravattam Pappu), Innocent flourished during the late 1980s and 90s, popularly termed as the ‘golden period’ in Malayalam cinema. It was during this period that Innocent, who had already made his debut as an actor and producer (Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback, Ormakkayi) a decade earlier, found that his niche lay in initiating Malayalam cinema into the realm of satire. So after 50-60 films in which he played notable as well as forgettable characters, Innocent allied with various writer-director partnerships who excavated the comedian in him. The Sathyan Anthikad-Sreenivasan collaborations reaped rich dividends for the actor, much like his allegiances with Priyadarshan, Siddique-Lal, Kamal, and Fazil.
Nadodikattu (1987), directed by Sathyan Anthikad and written by Sreenivasan, was one of the earliest films that offered a peek into Innocent’s ability to pull off comedy. Sreenivasan’s characters and later films have always revolved around the toils of the middle-class — youngsters struggling with unemployment — woven into a narrative that is strewn with instinctive humour, thereby sprinkling the otherwise gloomy picture with some mirth. In Nadodikattu, Innocent played the protagonist Dasan (Mohanlal)’s relative Balan, an immigrant struggling to make ends meet in Chennai. There is a charming give-and-take between Mohanlal and Innocent in the scenes where the former sheepishly tries to convey his hand-to-mouth existence. In the sequel, Pattanapravesham (1988), the jugalbandi is taken several notches up.
The very next year, Innocent upped his game with a character that dabbled with different shades of grey — the wily astrologer Panicker in Ponmuttayidunna Tharaavu, directed by Sathyan Anthikad and written by Raghunath Paleri. With its assorted lineup of rooted characters, his performance in this fable set in a village will remain one of his finest. The film also vouched for the superlative chemistry between KPAC Lalitha and Innocent on screen.
Panicker is greedy, canny, and manipulative. When he realises that Thattan Bhaskaran (Sreenivasan), whom he despises, gifts his daughter Snehalatha (Urvashi) a chunky gold necklace, he not only decides to use that in his favour, but also sides with his daughter’s decision to swindle the goldsmith. Innocent adds subtle comic touches to this greedy old man, and the end result is hysterical. Take for instance the scene where he comes home with news about his son-in-law’s arrival, which gets garbled as he simultaneously attempts to gargle or wipe his mouth. Innocent later recalled in a television interview that this scene was based on an incident featuring his father, which he later shared with Anthikad who incorporated it in the film. Innocent studiously brings in the hilarity and nastiness of Panicker with his quirky mannerisms and dialogue delivery. That’s why, despite reserving all our sympathies for Thattan Bhaskaran, we still find it difficult to hate Panicker altogether.
Sathyan Anthikad, in an interview, said how after every film Innocent would tell him, “Sathya, I might not be available for your next film.” Anthikad wouldn’t have even started thinking of his next project. Such was the camaraderie between them.
The year 1989 was significant for the actor, as it got him acquainted with the talented Siddique-Lal duo. Earlier in the same year, he had appeared as the bus driver Chathukutty in Varavelpu who feigns innocence but causes enough hassles for Murali (Mohanlal) whenever he is caught on the wrong foot.
Then came the legendary Mannar Mathai aka Mathaichan in Siddique-Lal’s (architects of situation comedy in Malayalam cinema) debut Ramji Rao Speaking — a role that essentially resurrected Innocent’s career.
“Mathaichettan undo?” asks Gopalakrishnan. “Illa undilla, unnan pone ullu. Entha unnana?” retorts Mathaichettan. What better introduction can you give a character as quirky as his? He is the owner of Urvashi Theatres — a rundown theatre company that has seen better days. Besides serving as a storeroom for his old drama costumes and accessories, his home also shelters two unemployed men.
Mathaichettan has a heart of gold that takes an instant shine to anyone willing to flatter him. He dreams of running his theatre to a full house. Obviously, a large part of the character’s charm lies in Innocent’s brilliantly comic and well-timed rejoinders. For instance, the manner in which he shyly shakes his head when Gopalakrishnan elucidates his virtues, and the way he affably asks, “Evideya sthalam nna paranje?” — only to instantly change gears and snap at him with a “Cheruplasherikkaran enikku.”
No one before or after Siddique-Lal gave so much identity and originality to comedy characters, and Innocent has been a happy beneficiary to their writing. Godfather’s Swaminathan for instance is a character with all the Innocent staples — the coy slow-mo head swirl, that you-caught-me air, and those riotous punchlines (“Neeyokke enthinada padikkaney?”). But then our favourite is that scene where Swaminathan is laughing his head off over a Boban and Molly comic, when his brother informs him of the arrival of his wife and kids. His transformation at that moment is smashing.
He was just as good in Kamal’s Peruvannapurathe Visheshangal — as Adiyodi, the streetsmart caretaker of a Nair house. In the same year, he also appeared as Sankaran Kutty Menon, who opposes his nephew’s relationship with his daughter in Sathyan Anthikad’s Mazhavilkavadi. Can’t think of an actor who can balance grey with comedy so well.
By the 90s, Innocent’s performances had gained a finesse. In 1990, he played a good roster of diverse characters, ranging from funny desperation to evil foolishness. The babysitter in Kamal’s Thooval Sparsham, who considers himself a pro at his job but is sloshed most times, gets a whacky spin in the actor’s hands. You can see a slightly serious deviation in the part-time Karate master Daniel in Thalayanamanthram. The good-hearted brother-in-law Eenasu who tries to play mediator in Sathyan Anthikad’s Sasneham is vintage Innocent, especially in that scene where he bundles his wife and mother into his van and declares to his brother-in-law that he has amended his mistake.
Gajakesariyogam’s mahout Ayyappan Nair is adorable, including his verbal pow-wow with his wife, played by the inimitable KPAC Lalitha. Innocent brings an occasional poignancy to an otherwise comical act.
The church-goer Mikael who can’t say boo to a goose in Kottayam Kunjachan, the TTE who flouts ethics and loves having a drink or two with his passengers in No 20 Madras Mail, the fake veterinarian in Dr Pasupathy, and the corrupt politician Velayil Chandy in Kalikkalam were well-written characters that were given an idiosyncratic twist by the actor. And therefore immensely memorable.
Only Sathyan Anthikad and Sreenivasan will think of casting Innocent as north Indian politician Yashwant Sahai in the political satire Sandesham. It speaks to the actor’s popularity and charm that when he demands ‘nariyal ka paani’ (coconut water) in that Irinjalakuda-accented Hindi and mocks the Hindi illiteracy of the Malayalis around him, we are laughing with him and not at the ludicrousness of the act.
Priyadarshan has had a fruitful association with Innocent. And the character that comes up first has to be Kittunni in Kilukkam — the overworked, harrowed, traumatised domestic worker at Justice Pillai (Thilakan)’s house. They are always at loggerheads with each other — like the time when he cooks chicken curry for dinner and Pillai gets up and bows in reverence, suggesting that the chicken is older than him. And when Kittunni really gets a chance to walk out of the job, he showers the choicest of abuses at Pillai (some lines are borrowed from Innocent’s personal experience). But of course, only to return too soon, utterly defeated. The scene where he collapses in shock and joy, wakes up and chuckles, and then loses consciousness again is only something Innocent can get away with. Not surprisingly, a scene he improvised.
Another superb character is Lineman KT Kurup in Mithunam. He is that annoying elder brother who somehow lands himself everywhere, albeit unintentionally, to mess things up for Sethu (Mohanlal). Kurup’s stoic expression in the middle of that black magic pooja later went on to become a favourite meme to denote ‘puchcham’, a uniquely Malayali emotion that can only loosely be translated to a ‘sneer’.
Innocent’s reign continued through the 90s. He had, by then, become an indispensable part of every film. Two roles especially stood out, one of them Unnithan in Fazil’s Manichithrathazhu (1993). Even his fear of ghosts is hilarious. The scene where his wife tries to tie a raksha (protective thread) over his waist and Unnithan, mistaking it for something more intimate, promises her in distress that he will come home — this could have easily turned crass, if not for the magical chemistry between Innocent and KPAC Lalitha.
Warrier in IV Sasi’s Devasuram was probably a role even Innocent wouldn’t have bargained for. Innocent was almost unrecognisable as the iconic Mangalasseri Neelakandan (Mohanlal)’s caretaker — a good-natured and calm man who probably knows the young scion better than anyone else. He is the only one who has the nerve to take Neelakandan to task for his roguish ways. He completely takes you by surprise with the subtlety and dignity he brings to the act. The warmth they share is beautifully captured in that casual one-liner the older Neelakandan throws at Warrier years later in the sequel Ravanaprabhu — “Enthado Warriere thaan nannavathe.”
Innocent was an actor who could get away with saying a lot of politically incorrect things off-screen, thanks to his endearing celluloid characters. So when he lamented (jokingly) that he often aspired to act with beautiful woman actors like Navya Nair or Shobana, but ended up with a KPAC Lalitha, no one seemed to mind. In interviews, he came across as an invigorating storyteller, who has a million stories to tell about his childhood, his wife Alice, his trysts with his father, about being a school dropout and working at a matchbox factory — all related with a touch of humour.
He took immense pride in his Irinjalakuda roots, and authored five books, including one that narrated his experiences after being diagnosed with throat cancer. The one-time Member of Parliament (MP) also never shied away from talking about his ailment in public, even speaking in the Parliament on behalf of cancer patients.
Director Lal once described the actor as a diplomat in Malayalam cinema, a reason why he was able to retain the presidency of A.M.M.A. for more than a decade. He was also known to be a great philanthropist.
Maybe it has something to do with the evolving terrain in Malayalam cinema, that Innocent and his peers were seen less on-screen post-2000. While he continued to bag films, this phase hardly produced a handful of memorable roles for the actor. The desperate womaniser in Ishtam, the efficient Karyasthan in Nandanam, the former wrestler-cum-cook in Kalyanaraman, the drunkard Chacko Mappilai in Manassinakkare, the naïve businessman in Kadha Parayumpol are a few notable entries.
Perhaps his most memorable role in the last decade was in Pranchiyettan and the Saint (2010), a character though by no means challenging, at least showcased Innocent in his former glory. His Vasu Menon, who promises to help Pranchi (Mammootty) get a name but invariably lands him in trouble, was a cakewalk for the actor. Another less-discussed but lovely performance was in Shyama Prasad’s Arike, in which he played Kalpana (Samvritha Sunil)’s father.
In the last 10 years, the actor had been a shadow of his former self, in roles that hardly warranted his talent. With some of his regular collaborators failing to update themselves with the changing grammar of cinema, it seemed like his heart was no longer in his craft.
But the sheer range of roles he has done on screen in the late 80s and 90s are so matchless, that Innocent will always go down in the history of Malayalam cinema as the actor who spread unmitigated joy on screen.
He was truly one of a kind.
Neelima Menon has worked in the newspaper industry for more than a decade. She has covered Hindi and Malayalam cinema for The New Indian Express and has worked briefly with Silverscreen.in. She now writes exclusively about Malayalam cinema, contributing to Fullpicture.in and thenewsminute.com. She is known for her detailed and insightful features on misogyny and the lack of representation of women in Malayalam cinema.