Playing the Fool

Whether they are meant to be genuinely silly,tricksters or idiot savants,they are always at odds with authority,and are allowed a certain festive freedom. They often look noticeably “odd” or hover at the margins — there’s no mistaking the fool for the romantic lead. You laugh at them,and sneakily through them,at the pompous rules of the world they inhabit and invert.

In Bhasa and Kalidasa,the vidushaka is wingman,confidant and comic foil,who often slips in some serious blows to the king’s dignity or the lover’s romantic flights. Their energies are often focused on food or foppery in the same way that the hero is consumed by thoughts of love or valour. They provide a flattering sidelight,and make the hero look more charismatic by comparison. Sometimes,they are enablers and companions — think of Shrek and Donkey or Munnabhai and Circuit or even Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They provide another point of identification and lighten a heavy plot,keep up a running stream of chatter,and often deflate the hero’s serious quest. Bhasa’s play Swapnavasavadatta is about the sorrowing king Udayana who is considering a second wife,but cannot get his first wife Vasavadatta,who is believed to have died in a fire,out of his mind. When he speaks to his court jester Vasantaka about the virtues and graces of the two women,the jester praises the late queen and his preference for her,because she often sent him great food —gently lampooning the king’s tragic dilemma.

Fools and jesters dress funny and look different. A cap and bells,or the harlequin’s motley,Falstaff’s girth,Charlie Chaplin’s hat and moustache and walk,Buster Keaton’s melancholic manner,etc. are meant to mark them out as professional fools. Shakespeare’s fools are often the target of humour and also provide the meta,witty commentary on the action. 

Sometimes,they don’t propel the plot forward,but just bring the laughs — like those countless Johnny Walker/Rajendra Nath/Mehmood/Johnny Lever bits in Hindi movies — they’re just gratuitously inserted for comic relief,a break from the high drama. Sometimes,they have their own parallel love affairs,but those invite laughter too,we’re not meant to be emotionally invested in them like we are in the lead pair. For instance,look at Lakshmikant Berde in Maine Pyar Kiya — he’s a classic vidushaka figure. He’s the hero’s hanger-on,not part of the family but lovingly tolerated,he’s a goof and a glutton,he makes the paterfamilias almost funny by exaggerating his fearsomeness,and he gets to say things like they are.

The comic hero as jester has the right to say anything,to mock the monarch and bring him a measure of self-awareness. Beloved figures like Richard Tarleton,Birbal and Mullah Nasruddin are anti-flatterers,meant to puncture the court’s fictions.

And everyone else can only grin through gritted teeth,because “there is no slander in an allow’d fool”,as Olivia says in Twelfth Night. This kind of levity is sanctioned,because it’s necessary — it expresses what everyone’s secretly thinking about the authority figure,but it doesn’t seriously challenge his position. So much so that British Airways even appointed a guy as “corporate jester” to speak the truth to its powerful boardroom. Allowing a tiny bit of jokey,anarchic expression is what keeps the edifice from cracking,because it coopts and contains rebellious energies.

But that doesn’t make the jester’s take on things any less subversive. It’s right there,running through the main story and subtly undermining its ends. Like the joker in a pack of cards suspends the norm of a game,introduces randomness and surprise,the fool-figure in a comedy brings a slantwise interpretation of events,a different set of values. In the thoughtless frat-boy universe of The Hangover,it can be just as simple as caring about a cigarette-smoking monkey more than anything.

amulya.gopalakrishnan@expressindia.com