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Panchathanthiram-time interview

Considering the current discussion going on in the Comments sections, now is a good time to look back at one of Kamal’s interviews on Rediff.com, done just after the release of Panchathanthiram. The setback of Aalavandhaan (aka Abhay) wasn’t too far behind. A lot was going on in Kamal’s personal life too at that time. So, there are peeks into all that. Excerpts:

The mahurat of Abhay was a huge, unmanageable affair, unlike anything we had seen before. But he could not maintain that grand momentum.

It is so ridiculous. There should be a law as to who should cut the film and for what purpose.

Now I am working towards settling my debts. Instead of one film, I will probably do two or three films per year at the same fee that I got one doing one film per year.

You know directors who have treated me as a comrade instead of just an actor, have always got the best out of me. Even great filmmakers like K Balachander, Mani Ratnam and Balu Mahendra have treated me like an ally. That helped the entire project….I am sure Mani doesn’t take all his actors into confidence. But he would discuss the screenplay during Nayakan. That was really reassuring for me. My chest heaves with pride when my directors take me into confidence.

My comedies have always done well. I am grateful for that.

We all worked like lunatics to complete the film in three months. While director K Ravi Kumar was cutting editing and mixing, I got busy writing Anbesivam.

Despite the turmoil in my personal life, the film will always brought a smile to my face. It was just the balm I needed to keep me calm.

Read the whole interview.

Kamal A2Z: Anbe Sivam

Editor’s Note: Here’s a reader who has just now turned author on this blog, with this wonderful post. Please welcome, Deepauk! Who’s next? How about taking up Aasheerwaadam or Anthuleni Katha or Aval Appadithaan?

To paraphrase Bertrand Russell, a stupid man’s report of what a clever man intends to portray on screen may never be accurate. Nevertheless I shall attempt an interpretation. The movie has been alternately hailed and dismissed from different sections for various reasons. I will touch on the screenplay and the characterizations, two items that are sometimes knocked.

A frequent criticism leveled against the movie is the script, especially the flashback sequence. A simple exercise to determine if a scene is superfluous to a screenplay is to remove that scene or sequence and see if the movie still holds together. Anbe Sivam stands up to this test very well. Apart from 2 songs (an occupational hazard in the Indian Film Industry), the removal of any scene would rip through the entire fabric of the movie. Some sequences while clich├ęd from a birds eye view are less so when examined. The minor banalities in structure are acknowledged by the writer through Madhavan’s “Puratchi Kathaanayagan Thimiru pudicha Kadhaanayagi” (dashing hero, arrogant heroine) dialogue.The entire sequence in Bala’s house serves to emphasize the romance, Kandaswami Padaiyaachi’s opportunistic theism and finally the reason for Bala’s continued involvement with Nalla. The action sequence sets up the scene afterward in the police station (the actor playing the inspector is a riot). It forces Nalla to come to terms with the consequences of his dalliance with the daughter of the man whose policies he resents.

I would like to mention 2 specific scenes that contrast the range of anecdotes that were drawn upon to deliver exposition in the movie. First, the portentous scene about the Tsunami that plays out in the Bhubaneshwar Hotel; the description of the photography-enthusiast consumed by the seas is supposedly based on a tragedy that befell a close friend (source: Kamal the writer himself in an interview to Sun TV). The scenes at the mural unveiling in Kandaswami Padaiyachi’s office are based on, I presume, Diego Rivera’s mural for the Rockefeller Center (a point to note here is Nalla’s allegiance, much like Russell, lies more with Marx than with Lenin). Referencing an intensely personal experience as well as global pop culture in the same movie should be a stretch, but it is pulled off with consummate ease.

The obvious strengths in the Nalla role apart, what is really meant to step out of the movie and slap the average yuppie viewer’s face is the Anbarasu character. Madhavan delivers the wake up call well, combining socially accepted selfishness and naivete’ with aplomb. Even small characters like the members of the Koothupattarai (street play troupe in Tamil Nadu), Mehrunnisa and Pounkunju in particular, are given a lot of depth. And for the piece-de-resistance we return to Nalla. For nearly 2 hours the man is infallible. He has fought the Indian government and won, waded through floods, chased a train, lost and donated blood and through his generally gregarious nature managed to traverse nearly the entire east coast of the country on a leg and a half. And then suddenly the self-assured “last-word-freak” has all his insecurities laid out in one line. “Manaivingurathu oru karpanai walking stick. Manam Nondaama Irukkanum Ille” (”The concept of wife is an imaginary walking stick. The mind shouldn’t go lame, right?”). Nalla’s imaginary walking stick clearly shows Kamal Haasan’s imagination needs none.

[Picture courtesy: BehindWoods]

Kamal A2Z: Ananda Jothi

Natural performance. An expression that is used at the drop of a hat by our critics, that it ought to be taken out of the English language for servicing. Anyway it is a curious expression to use with regard to the art of acting. As a sage once put it, “from the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the type (of all art)“.

Child actors, one would naturally suppose, are the best candidates for such performances. Such a supposer would have obviously not been acquainted with Tamil film children, particularly those of the yesteryears. These little pieces of heaven can be spotted swaying their head from side-to-side during song sequences and talking lengthy dialogues with righteousness oozing from their ears. All this of course if they are not tugging at the heartstrings with polio stricken legs or polishing boots to support their co-orphan younger brothers. Unless of course, the child in question happens to be Kamal Haasan.

After a National Award winning debut in KaLathoor KannammA and a dual role in PaarthAl Pasi Theerum, Kamal played the role of the heroine’s kid brother in the MGR-Devika starrer Ananda Jothi. The movie is as routine as it gets: a dispossessed rich man MGR, an epitome of simplicity and rectitude, goes about righting wrongs and finally living happily ever after. Notable here is the performance of the child Kamal Haasan. For anyone who may think this is just some retroactive praise, the movie is highly recommended, and a feeble description of a scene is attempted below.

MGR is an upright teacher Anandan, in a school run by Devika’s family and has an image of not bowing to authority. What Devika doesn’t know is that MGR is also writes poems (don’t even ask!) by the name Maniyarasan, whom she adores. Devika’s brother Kamal, studies in the school and can’t stop admiring his teacher.

In an ensuing exchange where she passes messages through Kamal that his teacher is an idiot while Maniyarasar is a genius. The message itself is triggered by a comment from Kamal: “unga maNiyarasar periya ivarO?” (roughly translates to a sarcastic: “your Maniyarasar is a great chap, eh?”). The twang and intonation are to be heard to be believed.

MGR translates the English word ‘idiot’ for Kamal. The child is outraged that his sister could have chosen such a word to describe his teacher and is angrier still that he was made to carry the message. His reaction is spontaneous and enchanting. He carries back MGR’s barb to his sister and closes the sequence with a witty smile: “pEchchu vittA pEchchu vaangikka vENdiyadhu thAn” (if you dish it out, be prepared to take them too!). And all this, with impressive expression and intonation. Natural talent, is what comes to mind, just that it isn’t compliment enough.

Of course this cannot be compared with Kalathur Kannamma. He literally drove the second half of that movie, performing with unbelievable ease. Ananda Jothi on the other hand, is yet another case of Kamal showing his mettle in an ordinary film. He would do it for a while later too.

Editor’s Note:

Prabhu Ram has picked a not-so-familiar movie and given a good start to the series. Readers, you are encouraged to send in your entries — immediately for the letter ‘A’ and not so urgently for other letters. ‘A’ itself has a whole lot of movies — Arangetram, Apoorva Sagodharargal and Avvai Shanmughi to name a few. Or can you enlighten readers about ‘B’ for Benkiyalli Aralida Hoovu, next fortnight? All your entries, with the subject-line as “Kamal A2Z Submission”, are awaited at randramble AT gmail DOT com. An even simpler way to contribute is to just comment on such posts, adding more info and thoughts about the movie covered. More info on the series is here.

Forrest Gump based on Swathi Muthyam?

Kamal has often been criticized for “copying” Hollywood movies, be it Avvai Shanmughi (Bhamane Satyabhamane / Chachi 420) or Tenali. In a rare occasion, he provided his take on the controversy in Singapore. Thinnai (a Tamil Webmag?) covered it.

Kamal feels that it’s not wrong to use stories from other language movies. Defending himself, he says that Forrest Gump could have been based on the lead character in Swathi Muthyam (Sippikkul Muthu). The movie starring Tom Hanks in an Oscar-winning role released in 1994 and was based on a book that came out in 1986. Kamal’s movie was out in 1985 itself. There is a piece on Forrest Gump on a Web-site, said to be based on an Wikipedia article, which mentions the original Telugu movie. Similarly, Sigappu Rojakkal was said to have been plagiarised from Visiting Hours, whereas the Hollywood movie actually released 4 years later! In the end, Kamal calls for having belief in and appreciating the talent of fellow Indians.

The Kamal of My Dreams: Musings on His Many Indias

Editor’s Note: The 200th post — another milestone, as we travel towards new destinations. We have reached this point due to the great support of readers like you and various contributors. Thank you all; but do give us more, to help us give you more! And now, Qalandar is back with a fitting post…

I am ostensibly an odd choice to write a commemorative post on a site dedicated to Kamal Haasan: not only have I not grown up on Nayakan, Thevar Magan or Guna, but I’ve come to Kamal’s films — indeed, Tamil films in general — only relatively recently (and even now am limited to the ones I can find with English subtitles), and indeed often wish he would stop playing the hero (including in one of my favorite Kamal films, Virumaandi).

What gives?

All of the above might, however, make me especially well-positioned to begin a discussion on Kamal’s place in Indian cinema, a discussion, that is, that does not focus on his acting achievements so much as on what he means, the position he occupies, and the difference he has made. That “difference” is not merely a question of saying that Kamal stands for “quality” cinema, or that Kamal goes against the grain of Tamil masala cinema. Rather, a proper appreciation of this difference would also have to engage with the wider context of a Tamil cinema that is simultaneously a “regional” cinema, and one confronted with the hard fact of a dominant “national” industry with far greater resources at hand. For it is this terrain that Kamal’s career has had to negotiate, certainly over the last two decades.

Confronted with that brute fact, the tendency is for India’s “regional” industries to go aggressively “local”, with cinema being viewed as a repository (or even as embattled citadel) of a culture and way of life that is under threat, besieged not necessarily due to any overt political hostility so much as by the dominance of a discourse — in this case Hindi cinema — with nationwide ambitions. At its best, this phenomenon results in films far more attuned to the rhythm of the “little”; to “marginal” voices that are not very likely to register on canvases where images are painted in very broad brushes; to moments as opposed to grand projects; to stories and not mere spectacles. At its worst, however, the “regional” film finds it hard to shed its mantle of insularity, and runs the risk of imagining the “local” past and culture as hermetically sealed and set in stone, and even of falling into the trap of xenophobia. Confronted with a “national” hegemony that would potentially sacrifice the “regional” at the altar of homogeneity, the temptation (not often resisted) is to construct a narrative of the “regional” that itself becomes a countervailing homogenizing hegemony: certain films or subjects are deemed more or less “authentically” Tamil, while others might be criticized for not hewing closely to a “standard” or “authorized” Tamil idiom. The construction of a countervailing sub-national hegemony, in short, risks compromising the very attention to the “local” that animated the “regional” in the first place.

Ever since the man started assuming greater film-making control over his projects, the arc of Kamal’s career has done more to destabilize the above polarity than any other, Mani Ratnam’s excluded (fittingly enough, if one were hardpressed for an inaugural “moment” for the difference I am referring to, one need look no further than the coming together of Ratnam and Kamal in Nayakan). For Kamal and Ratnam have sought to evade the hegemonic “national” by resorting to a global paradigm, one that seeks to tap into the best of “world” cinema in an ambitious attempt to distinguish their Tamil films not merely on account of their Tamil essence but on account of their excellence — where “excellence” is defined not in terms of what would or would not pass muster in mainstream Hindi cinema, but what would make the grade where the world’s cinephiles are concerned. Indeed, it would be no exaggeration to say that of the two, Kamal’s concern for the health — and even more so for the sophistication — of Tamil cinema exceeds that of Ratnam’s. And if the prescription comes at a price — the casting of Kamal himself in the role of messiah — in a historical sense the price is well worth paying.

Kamal’s approach is not simply a question of distinguishing Tamil films by virtue of quality: the films he has directed make clear that he sees the appeal to the trans-national as a way not only to evade the national, but to enable the “regional” to interrogate the national, thereby carving out a cinematic space that is not simply a function of linguistic difference, even as it depends upon and perhaps even acts in the name of that linguistic difference. It is worth stressing that this is in no way an “anti-national” viewpoint, but instead one that resists the dominance of an “official” paradigm. My point is best illustrated by means of Hey Ram and Virumaandi, two of the finest Indian films I have seen this decade, and both directed by Kamal himself.

Hey Ram is ostensibly itself a “national” film, planned and executed as a bi-lingual, and populated with Bollywood stars, to such a degree that non-Tamilians might not even think of it as a Tamil film at all. Yet this is no instance of cultural effacement in the quest for a wider audience. Rather, Kamal uses Hey Ram to literally enact the drama of the “regional” difference (not to mention communal difference) vis-a-vis the symbolic heart of India, Mahatma Gandhi himself. This is about more than just the fact that the film’s protagonist is Tamil Brahmin Saket Ram, out to avenge himself on the nation’s father; rather, one realizes very soon that almost every memorable character in the film is testimony to the “regional”, be it a Pathan Muslim, Saket Ram’s Bengali wife, or his Sindhi friend. In fact, the film’s casting of culturally “authentic” Hema Malini as a Tamilian is itself slyly subversive, inasmuch as it takes a “national” icon and “regionalizes” her in a very direct way. The extremist Abhayankar and the wicked Altaf are far more “mainstream”, of course — not coincidentally, if the film has villains, they undoubtedly fit the bill. Towards the film’s end it is in fact the Pathan’s knowledge of Tamil that enables him and Saket to escape the mob at their heels, a literal staging of the hope that acknowledgment of political difference — here the sub-national — might enable us to sidestep the overarching manias of national projects (problematic not so much because they are manias but because they are overarching projects), including projects like Abhayankar’s.

Perhaps most wondrous of all is the fact that not a trace of anti-Indian sentiment animates Hey Ram, though this isn’t surprising to those who have followed Kamal’s interviews. The film is not embarrassed to embrace India, but equally, is consistent with a view that does not see patriotism as involving any sub-national compromise, and certainly no compromise of a humanity that is shared across communal and other boundaries. Perhaps as a result of its enactment of this conviction on a nationwide scale, Hey Ram might be the grandest “regional” film of them all, free not only to examine the national margins but also liberated from the stultifying restrictions of “mainstream” discourse within which it would be difficult to think the things Hey Ram thinks of. The result is a political film that is bolder than most, and a “regional” film that meditates on issues that resonate nationally, even globally.

Virumaandi illustrates another aspect of the “difference” I started out with. On the face of it, the tale of a violent inter-village conflict in Madurai district sounds like the sort of “local” film any number of directors mindful of making “authentic” Tamil films could have made. Once again (and more clearly here than in Hey Ram) it is Kamal’s recourse to broader aesthetic and political concerns that distinguishes the film, which touches upon Kurosawa’s Rashomon, capital punishment, and the injustice of the justice system. Simultaneously, Virumaandi strives to be a rip-roaring “massy” action film as well as the sort of rural study Bharathiraja was once known for — in short, about as recognizably Tamil a film as one could ask for. The melange is not always seamless, but the parry (of the status quo, here represented by a hopelessly inadequate legal order) and thrust (of the “regional”, in the form of the ultra-Tamil feel of the film) clearly strikes a chord. Virumaandi is consistent with Kamal’s resistance to the homogenizing potential of the “regional” itself, and displays an ear for Tamil voices not often heard in mainstream cinema.

Nor was Virumaandi the first time Kamal had explored the representation of voices that one might characterize as “marginal” to the Tamil cinematic mainstream, as films like Thenali, Nala Damayanti , and Anbe Sivam attest — indeed the first two quite literally focus on characters who speak a Tamil that is lived on the border as it were, between Sinhalese and Tamil in Thenali; and between Tamil and Malayalam in Nala Damayanti. (The third film explores a character beholden to an ideology — communism — that is as marginalized today as it has ever been.) With Kamal, it is clear, the hegemony of the national may not be replaced with the hegemony of an “authorized” regional voice, one which purports to stand for the authentic to the exclusion of others. Moreover, Nala Damayanti is especially relevant in the contemporary “globalized” world, given its doubly disorienting move: not only does the film’s protagonist speak the Palakkad Tamil of the Tamil Nadu-Kerala borderlands, but he is also an illegal immigrant in a strange land, adrift in a sea of English he cannot understand. Nala Damayanti, that is, illustrates yet again the ability of the “regional” film to explore global issues that the “mainstream”, almost by design, finds difficult to engage.

If this essay is about anything, it is about more than the achievements of a single actor/filmmaker (and I have deliberately stressed the “filmmaker” Kamal here, leaving to others better qualified than I the task of thinking about Kamal’s performances and other contributions in light of this piece). Because the likes of Kamal have inspired others in Tamil cinema, not only at the purely superficial (albeit very welcome) level of technical proficiency, but visually and thematically as well. Rather than cite particular examples of filmmakers and actors who have followed Kamal, I will end by paraphrasing a critic I greatly respect, who had once said that prior to the mid-1980s there was no non-culturally specific reason to watch any Tamil films. The “difference” to which Kamal Haasan has helped give concrete form means this is simply not true anymore. How untrue it is in the grand scheme of things is an open question, and will turn (as it must) on those who follow. Kamal has done his part — and, fittingly enough, not just “locally”: while the Kamal “difference” is a different animal from the (overly optimistic) crossover concerns that seem to occupy far too many in the Hindi film industry these days, it has nevertheless left its mark even there, principally by way of the manner in which the likes of Aamir Khan have begun to approach their films — with seriousness, ambition, and the desire to rescue popular cinema from both global blandness and “native” cliche. It is not a question of creative influence so much as it is one of mindset. A mindset that is best situated to result in global critical recognition for India’s popular cinemas, and in a manner such that they do not cease to be voices of our many Indias.

Dasavatharam buzz

All has been quiet on the Dasavatharam news front for quite some time now. But rumours have been floating around and there has been some buzz nevertheless.

After oscillating between Diwali and Pongal, the film release date might well be December 21, the Friday before Christmas. The audio release might be in October itself. That is not really some consolation, as most fans are not sure of what Himesh Reshammiya is going to come up with.

In the end, we are back to the long wait, which, we are confident, will be well worth it.

Meaningless awards

When people used to say that actually some award was honoured because it was given to some person, I used to think of it as flowery, shallow praise. Now, I realise that such comments could have been genuine. The award in question here is the recently announced Tamil Nadu State Awards. Kamal has been declared as Best Actor (for Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu), with a bunch of others. To make it more meaningless, awards were announced for 2 years and not just one.

Now, here’s another forgettable award to add to the collection, this time from the “Film Fans Association”. What else do we do, but ignore such news and recollect the really significant ones that Kamal has amassed?

Sila Nerangalil audio launch

Kamal launched the audio of Sila Nerangalil, starring Vincent Ashokan and Navya Nair.

As always, there are more photos to browse through at Behindwoods. KollywoodToday.com has similar photos and a video (that resembles one that is done for wedding receptions).

[Picture courtesy: BehindWoods]

Kamal in Hyderabad

Kamal was in Hyderabad a few days ago to promote Raghavan, the Telugu-dubbed version of Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu. Idlebrain.com put up some nice pictures, including tight close-ups. IndiaGlitz topped it with its usual array of photos plus a video. The speeches are short, with Kamal talking partly in Telugu. The video itself starts off with the racy title track (in Telugu, of course) playing in the background.

Fans from Hyderabad had lamented that the pre-release publicity for this movie was really low-key. The producers seem to be making up by getting Kamal and Gautham to attend this event now. With the movie trying its luck at a time when twin tragedies have struck Hyderabad, this late effort should help anyway.

IndiaGlitz even reports that Kamal confirmed doing a straight Telugu movie.

Kamal & Rajni to act together again???

Junior Vikatan, the Tamil weekly, possibly broke this news / rumour. And it’s the mother of all that we’ve heard before — Kamal and Rajni are planning to act in a movie together again! Dinakaran and Thatstamil (both in Tamil) too carry the same ‘news’.

The common aspects of all these reports are that it’s a story of friends and that Kamal will feature only for about half an hour. Other speculation includes the director being Mani Ratnam or KS Ravikumar, the title being ‘Chakravarthy‘ and the movie being produced by Kamal. Of course, another rumour has it that such a movie was attempted and that it didn’t work out.

Just like Kamal and Rajni watch seriously in the photo above, we too await official confirmation.

[Picture courtesy: BehindWoods]

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