Rajesh Khanna’s unheralded films: Portrait of a man trapped between image and identity

In Dark Star: The Loneliness of Being Rajesh Khanna, now in a new edition published by Rupa, Gautam Chintamani takes on the ambitious task of chronicling the life and stardom of India’s first true superstar. He does this not merely by recounting his record-breaking string of blockbusters but by looking deeper through the less explored, often overlooked films that capture the essence of Khanna’s complex relationship with fame. Rather than glorify the well-known trajectory of his peak years with iconic hits like Aradhana or Anand, Chintamani invites readers to re-evaluate Khanna’s superstardom through films that didn’t necessarily top box-office charts but reflected layers of his persona, creative instincts and inner struggles.

These unheralded films – those that critics dismissed or audiences ignored – become the terrain on which the author maps the emotional and artistic cost of being the first to experience the mythos of mass adulation in Hindi cinema. In doing so, Chintamani deftly shifts the conversation from nostalgia to critical inquiry, showing how these less celebrated roles often held the rawest fragments of Khanna’s emotional reality. They form, in a way, the subtext of his fame. Movies where he played characters either on the fringes of relevance or fighting against the very mechanisms of stardom that had once buoyed him. By focusing on this quieter narrative, Chintamani paints a more nuanced, even haunting, portrait of a man trapped between image and identity. It is this choice – to examine what superstardom costs through the shadows it casts rather than the light it throws – that sets Dark Star apart from most celebrity biographies.

Khanna’s fall from public grace, his reported eccentricities, and the loneliness that seemed to envelop him later in life are not treated as dramatic footnotes but as essential truths revealed in films that tried, and often failed, to keep pace with his myth. In Chintamani’s hands, these films become more than cinematic detours; they are intimate confessions, flickering onscreen, of a man trying to hold on to relevance, or perhaps something even more elusive: a sense of self.

Dhanwan (1971)

A masterclass in moral decay and redemption, Dhanwan features Khanna as Vijay, a cold-blooded businessman who loses his eyesight in a hit-and-run and is forced to confront his failings. The character’s arc, from arrogance to awakening, prefigures the flawed antiheroes of Shah Rukh Khan’s Baazigar or Anjaam. It’s a performance that hints at what Khanna could achieve when the mask of the romantic hero was removed.

Red Rose (1981)

Perhaps the boldest film of his career, Red Rose casts Khanna as a charming yet deranged killer. It’s a rare outing into darker territory, and he walks the tightrope of seduction and psychopathy. The performance is chilling, quiet and deliberately underplayed. Deviating from his romantic hero image, Khanna showcased his range beyond melodrama and romance. Though it flopped commercially, the film remains a bold experiment in Hindi cinema, ahead of its time in theme and tone. Red Rose is essential to understanding the risks Khanna took to reinvent himself.

Dushman (1971)

While a runaway commercial success, the Dulal Guha film warrants a second look for its moral complexity, and for breaking away from the usual tropes for Rajesh Khanna as a charming lover or tragic hero. Here is a leading man who commits manslaughter and has to become the ‘dead’ man to support the family. Khanna’s look in the first half of the film and the manner in which he gruffs his way through the proceedings is sheer brilliance. The film explores guilt, redemption and social justice with restraint, predating Bollywood’s later experiments in realism. Khanna’s performance as a remorseful truck driver is nuanced, understated and devoid of his typical star persona.

Chhaila Babu (1977)

Often dismissed as lightweight, this comic caper has Khanna displaying his comic timing and command over slapstick. A typical 1970s film, Chhaila Babu gets overshadowed by similar films in the genre but it has aged well. Here, Khanna dons multiple disguises and tones with ease and charm. In the 1970s everyone was obsessed with James Hadley Chase and pulp fiction. Light, breezy and surprisingly sharp, Chhaila Babu is the best in the series.

Maha Chor (1976)

A film that tried to be everything Bollywood loved in the 1970s: masala, mistaken identities, moral heart and mop-haired mischief. Khanna plays Raju, the Bombay street-thief with a conscience, displaying a charm and comic timing that’s criminally underrated. From dressing up as a traffic cop in shorts to delivering Kader Khan’s punchlines with a wink and a grin, this was Khanna going full Manmohan Desai-lite. It works more than it doesn’t.

Yes, the film didn’t quite click back then but today, Maha Chor feels like a parallel timeline of what Hindi cinema could’ve been if Khanna’s momentum hadn’t shifted. Watch it for the swagger, stay for the satire, and rediscover the superstar who did it all but sometimes went unnoticed. Kader Khan’s dialogues, the same that made Amitabh Bachchan a star, are in full glory here. Khanna’s pairing with Neetu Singh is fun too. There are too many similarities with Don and Deewaar — films that paved the way for Bachchan’s stardom — and show how Khanna was a huge star even when he wasn’t. He was the first port of call for everyone, and had the fallout not happened with Salim-Javed, who knows?

Aaj Ka MLA Ram Avtar (1984)

In a year marked by another big political film starring Amitabh Bachchan, Inquilaab, that received a lot of flak for its preposterous climax where the star shoots down the whole cabinet of ministers in the parliament, we also had Rajesh Khanna playing a politician.

Aaj Ka MLA Ram Avtar is often dismissed as a heavy-handed political satire, but it remains a curious guilty pleasure for cinephiles. Coming after Khanna’s decline from superstardom, it offers a glimpse into his attempt to reinvent himself, not as a romantic hero but as a ‘man of the people’. The plot, which sees a humble barber rise to power as a chief minister, feels both implausible and prophetic. Khanna’s charm is visibly dulled, yet flickers of his past brilliance occasionally break through, especially in the more introspective scenes. While the film’s execution lacks finesse, it unintentionally captures the era’s cynicism about politics. Despite its melodrama and dated aesthetics, there’s an odd comfort in watching Khanna navigate this flawed narrative – like a star refusing to dim quietly.

Dard (1981)

Khanna’s revenge on his heroines. In the broadest sense, Dard was a typical Rajesh Khanna film in the mould of an Aradhana, Amar Prem or Kati Patang, where the heroine undergoes a lifetime of trauma to make someone else’s life better. The only difference is that, here, Khanna was playing the role usually reserved for his heroine. Filled with enough theatrics to see four movies through, Dard was nothing less than a treat for Khanna’s fans who got to see him in vintage mode. An emotional roller-coaster, the screenplay gave Khanna a great deal of screen time, and the father-son dual role ample opportunity to bring the house down with his histrionics.

Phir Wahi Raat (1980)

Rajesh Khanna in a safari suit, solving ghost trauma with psychiatry, in a haunted haveli. Yes, it happened. Phir Wahi Raat, directed by a debutant Danny Denzongpa, is a moody, slightly bonkers psychological horror with all the tropes in place – Lata’s ‘Bindiya Tarse’, an unhinged Shashikala, Kim screaming into the night, Jagdeep doing what he does best, and Khanna looking like he walked into the wrong genre. But that is what made the film interesting. To begin with, Denzongpa was trying to get Shashi Kapoor but settled for Khanna as Vijay, a shrink trying to heal his girlfriend’s childhood trauma by literally dragging her back into the mansion where the horror began. What follows is part Scooby-Doo, part Ramsay Brothers, part overcooked melodrama, and all of it weirdly watchable. Revisit it for the atmosphere. Rewatch it for the chaos.

Oonche Log (1985)

Though a box-office failure, this one deserves a thoughtful reappraisal, especially for Khanna’s performance. At his peak, Khanna was the undisputed king of the underdog role, bringing vulnerability and charm to characters battling social and emotional odds. By the time Oonche Log arrived, his stardom had waned and the magic seemed diluted. Yet, in his portrayal here, glimpses of that old brilliance shine through. Despite some unintentionally funny emotional sequences full of the mannerisms that seemed to have become second nature to him by now, there’s a quiet dignity and restrained emotion in his performance that recalls the depth he once brought so effortlessly. While the film itself may be melodramatic and uneven, Khanna’s take is worth noting. Oonche Log is a reminder of a star struggling with transition, still capable of emotional heft.

(Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri is a film and music buff, editor, publisher, film critic and writer)