Sharmaji Namkeen: Deconstructing Rishi Kapoor and Paresh Rawal’s dinct performances, and how they enhance a delightful film

Rishi Kapoor got the emotional send-off, but Paresh Rawal got the better scenes in Sharmaji Namkeen, the delightful new dramedy that could. Rawal stepped in to help finish the film’s remaining portions after Kapoor passed away midway through production. All said and done, I’d say that the two actors have a 50-50 share of the screen time, as they pass the baton between each other in random order. But remarkably, their performances couldn’t feel more dinct.
Although not unprecedented, it’s extremely rare for a strategy like this to be used. And it’s rarer for it to work as well as it does here. The most famous (and similar) example that I can think of is probably director Terry Gilliam’s The Imagination of Doctor Parnassus, a film in which not one but three actors—Colin Farrell, Jude Law, Johnny Depp—filled in for Heath Ledger. Doctor Paranassus was a fantasy film, so the change in the lead character’s appearance was explained in the rewritten script. Furious 7, on the other hand, deployed (unconvincing) digital trickery as it determinedly raced towards the finish line after Paul Walker’s death. Stand-ins were used for Bruce Lee and his son, Brandon, both of whom, in a cruel tw of fate, died while working on their respective films, decades apart.
All three options—digital effects, elaborate prosthetics, and stand-ins—were considered after Rishi Kapoor’s tragic passing. Bringing Rawal in feels like the most cost-effective plan-of-action, but against all odds, taking this unconventional route only ended up enhancing the film. It shouldn’t have worked, but it does.

Sharmaji Namkeen—a feel-good film about a retiree who moonlights as a cook—begins and ends with Rawal’s version of the character. I say ‘version’ because watching these two masters at work is a pleasure, but at least initially, it’s disconcerting. It feels odd to have the movie open with Rawal, especially after we’ve just seen Ranbir Kapoor introduce it as a loving tribute to his dad. And it feels stranger to see Rawal and not Kapoor in the film’s climax, moments before another tribute reel brings the curtains down on its late star’s career. This isn’t to say that Kapoor has fewer scenes—for instance, the romantic subplot with Juhi Chawla unfolds almost entirely with his version of the character—but his bits are certainly more comedic in tone.
Perhaps the most notable exception to this is the undeniably disorientating birthday party sequence, in which Sharmaji’s side-hustle as a cook is revealed to his entire family, including his disapproving sons. Kapoor’s version of the character watches video footage of Rawal’s Sharmaji on the television, as tensions escalate. Kapoor performs this scene like a child caught red-handed while playing hooky. He stands silently, muttering explanations—the camera comes in for a close-up—as his elder son scolds him for bringing disrepute to their ‘family’.

Kapoor’s performance otherwise is… bigger, for lack of a better word. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not at all bad, it’s just broad. To the extent that the film’s tone changes whenever Rawal subs in. Consider, as an example, the scene in which Sharmaji and his sons visit Urmi and her parents at their fancy apartment. Sharmaji is visibly oblivious to his kids’ discomfort. They’re not necessarily embarrassed of him, but quite conscious of his presence. And a large part of that is because of how Kapoor plays the scene. He’s jovial, exuberant—almost as if he’s overcompensating for having forgotten about the meeting a few hours earlier. It works.
But notice the mood change on the drive back home. Not because of the discomfort, but because now, it’s Rawal’s turn to bring the scene home. His presence is much graver; there’s a stillness to him, and even a strong undercurrent of melancholy. Rawal’s Sharmaji isn’t at all like Kapoor’s glass-half-full workaholic. He’s the outcast. He’s the survivor. He’s the grieving widower. And in that ride back home, when Sharmaji’s son Rinku comes clean to him about the shady real estate scam that he’s fallen for, Rawal dials it down.

Director Hitesh Bhatia said in an interview that perhaps his only instruction for Rawal was for him to not try and mimic Kapoor’s performance. In addition to being a suitably emotional swan song for one of Hindi cinema’s most resilient stars, Sharmaji Namkeen also provides unexpected insight into the craft of acting, and how differently two performers can interpret the same character.
Observe the terrific outburst sequence in the film’s third act, when Rawal blows his lid while working in the kitchen and overhearing one of the women in his kitty party group talking about her business idea being rejected a potential (male) investor. Sharmaji storms out of the kitchen, screams at her to follow her dreams, and sulks on the drive back home, as Juhi Chawla’s character tries to cheer him up. She has the best idea; she takes Sharmaji to a rabri-faluda shop, and we cut from Rawal in the car to Kapoor in the halwai shop. Watch the childlike glee on his face as he slurps the dessert. Only he could’ve brought that energy.
No digital trickery. No flashy editing. Pure performance. For the film to have come together like this is mostly accidental, of course. But it makes you wonder if the movie gods were working in full force.