MUMBAI: Actor Aadesh Chaudhary, known for his powerful performances in shows like Laagi Tujhse Lagan, Sasural Simar Ka, and Maitree, isn’t someone who speaks for the sake of headlines. But when he does, he brings with him a perspective rooted in experience and a deep reverence for storytelling.
In a recent conversation, Aadesh shared his thoughts on the evolution—and in some cases, the erosion—of comedy in Indian cinema. As someone who’s seen the industry transform over the years, his observations hit with quiet truth.
“Comedy, once upon a time, had rhythm. It had pauses, wit, innocence… and a lot of heart. Today, it often feels like a race to get the loudest laugh with the least amount of thought. That’s not comedy—that’s noise,” Aadesh says candidly.
For Aadesh, the golden era of Indian comedy still remains the 1980s and 1990s, where the humour was situational and deeply character-driven.
“Films like Gol Maal, Chupke Chupke, Andaz Apna Apna, or even Hera Pheri from the early 2000s had one thing in common—they didn’t try too hard. The actors surrendered to the moment, and the writing did the magic. That kind of comedy doesn’t need explaining. It just works because it’s honest,” he reflects.
He believes that the definition of humour has indeed changed, but not always for the better.
“Today, there’s a lot of pressure to constantly be funny. That pressure shows in the writing. There’s an over-dependence on slapstick, background score cues, and forced one-liners that aren’t rooted in the character or situation. It disconnects you from the scene. You might laugh for a second, but you don’t remember it tomorrow,” Aadesh points out.
When asked whether filmmakers are struggling to keep up with changing audience preferences, Aadesh offers a nuanced take:
“I think the audience is ready for smart, character-led humour. The problem is we often assume they only want loud, fast-paced entertainment. That’s underestimating them. Look at how some web shows or even indie films handle humour today—they’re doing well because they respect the audience’s intelligence.”
He’s also quick to point out that the heart of comedy lies in relatability, something many modern scripts fail to tap into.
“You can’t just place a comedian in a scene and expect magic. Humour has to come from truth. When Govinda danced in the rain or when Johnny Lever panicked in a police station, it worked because those situations, though exaggerated, felt believable. We saw our uncles, our neighbours, our lives in them. That relatability is missing now,” he says.
However, Aadesh isn’t entirely dismissive of today’s efforts—he sees sparks of hope.
“There are writers and directors who are trying to bring that balance back—clean, intelligent humour that still feels fresh. But we need more of that. And actors, too, need to trust the scene, not just the punchline.”
In an age where humour is often repackaged into viral clips and OTT exaggeration, Aadesh’s viewpoint is refreshingly grounded.
“Laughter is a beautiful thing. But laughter that leaves you with warmth, that makes you think or reminds you of something real—that’s priceless. That’s what we need to bring back,” he concludes with a quiet smile.
With his growing body of work and his commitment to meaningful performance, Aadesh Chaudhary isn’t just another actor navigating trends—he’s someone who wants cinema to remember its roots, even as it evolves.
As audiences grow more discerning, voices like his are essential in reminding us that the best comedy isn’t just about making people laugh—it’s about making them feel.
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