Good, Bad and the Ugly
Editor’s Note: Another debutant — Kannan. He starts off on a rarely-discussed aspect of Kamal’s acting. Enjoy and participate in the Comments section!
While talking of Kamal the actor, critics have always portrayed him as someone who can make you laugh and cry like no one else. But there is another facet of the actor that is so often overlooked – the ability to frighten and horrify. Yessir, this post is about Kamal the baddie. There are a few scenes I will touch upon from Sigappu Rojakkal and Aboorva Sagodharargal.
The beauty of Sigappu Rojakkal is its enduring ability to strike fear in the viewer. Bharathiraaja’s second movie with Kamal couldn’t be more different from his first – 16 Vayadhinile. If Kamal’s histrionics in 16 Vayadhinile made you sit up and take notice, Sigappu Rojakkal would have you stand up and applaud his subtle genius. No other actor could have played characters as varied as Chappaani and Dileep back to back. “Audiences want an ordinary human being with failings” – Hitchcock’s words on the expectations of the modern audiences from their villains seems to be Kamal’s dictum here.
The very first scene establishes his character and sets up the viewer for what is in store. The gardener has just ‘fertilised’ the soil and the servant is bringing two cups of tea to his master’s room. Kamal looks up at his servant for few seconds, notices him glancing at the abandoned brassiere on his side and looks back at him again. He then replaces his cup back and says, rather nonchalantly, “Indha tea thevai illa“. That look and expression conveys more about him than could a thousand pages of dialogues. Does he care that the boy has found his truth out? You bet! He waits to see the boy’s expression after he finds the bed empty. A cold, calculating stare that tells us that he is probably weighing his options on his next move. When he sees that the boy is going to get inquisitive, he dismisses him offhandedly. All in the matter of a few seconds. And mind you that the cup obscures half his face!!
After the courtship and marriage to Sridevi come the defining moments of the movie. Driven to the end of sanity by the police investigations, he decides to take matters into his own hands (!) and heads to the bar to reason with the witness, Bhagyaraj. What starts as a routine confrontation soon spirals out of control into full-fledged arguments and as Illayaraja’s BGM (background music) crescendos to an orgasmic peak, Kamal slips his hands into his gloves (the glaring discrepancy of meticulous precautions in a public place!!) and silently emerges the winner. Show me any other actor that could have pulled off Dileep’s character and I will show you a peace loving American president.
Aboorva Sagodharargal pretty much set the standards for masala movies, not just in Tamil but in any Indian language. But, stripped of its songs, comedy track and gloss, the story is about a midget scorned. And we get to see his full fury. The small stature of Appu is not just a ploy to attract audience to the theatre. It also serves as a very important plot device. From ‘Delhi’ Ganesh standing casually in front of the contraption that would kill him to Nagesh who ridicules his abilities, all victims have one thing in common – taking him lightly. And they pay the price. Appu doesn’t go complaining to the law – because he knows that wouldn’t satisfy him. He craves blood and violence. One scene stands apart and establishes this trait. After his confrontation with Nasser, he sets upon his tiger and waits patiently for it to finish the job – having a little taste of vegetarianism himself from the grass patch beneath. We know it is all over when he stops chewing and gives a satisfactory grin – interlaced with a hint of anger. The climax scene could very well be one of the few instances in Tamil cinema where the hero, in spite of the opponent’s confession in front of a full house and police still goes ahead with his plan of public execution. He could have very well let the police take Nagesh away – but instead turns to his mother waiting for her approval to finish what he started. As Srividya nods her consent, we the audience join in, nodding our affirmation and appreciation of the genius actor that Kamal is.
The above examples seek to emphasise the important point that it is not just loud dialogues and shining of red light on the actor’s face that contribute to the expression of terror. There are some obvious movies I have left out to make the post short, but I am sure readers will join in and kick start an interesting discussion.
October 29th, 2007 at 3:40 am
Nandhakumar in Aalavandhan will be an appropriate addition to this - the poetry spouting moments, voilent outbursts in absolute madness, the loud disturbing animated hallucinations, subtle grins, grimaces and utter body language that speaks volumes all adds up to an immaculate representation of an unstable and grossly demented character, culminating in the finale, a mayhem in madness - a class act by Kamal.
October 29th, 2007 at 6:21 am
I think “Alavandhaan” had one excellent moment, when Riaz khan(forgot his character’s name) and Nandakumar escape, Nandu stops at one point, and (a Paranoid himself) plays with Riaz’s Sanity, that was ruthless indeed. I remember Kamal’s reaction was cold and chilling..
In the start, when Vijay takes his fiancee Tejaswini to meet Nandhu, Nandhu takes a quick squirm - That was a Lectur meets John Doe moment!
October 29th, 2007 at 1:15 pm
Thinking about it now, I think that Kamal took his villainous performances to the next level with Aalavandhaan / Abhay. Before that, there were also the politician in Indrudu Chandrudu and the selfish common man in Indian.
October 29th, 2007 at 1:31 pm
The name is Sultan. (And Riyaz Khan’s performance here — the way it’s written and enacted — is a tour de force to my mind.) The scenes at the asylum in the first half-hour and the ensuing sequence of the madness of the free Nandhu is so well written and has some brilliant moments. A favourite scene is when a drugged Nandhu calls up the doctor. His intent seems to pose off as Sultan (one can see that Nandhu mimics Sultan’s voice), but ends up telling the truth… (Nandhu is mentally very strong and it’s very much possible that he drugged himself beyond his own control just so as to sound like Sultan!)
October 29th, 2007 at 3:17 pm
Aalavandhan and Indran Chandran are more obvious examples. Both had one thing in common. Kamal’s appearance never overtakes his performance. Infact, he rises above the the near joker appearance of the Mayor in IC and genuinely scares the viewers with the ‘Odi vilayadu paapa’ line. And of course Nandhu’s poetry recitals in trance add the extra perspective of a genius psychopath. That was one of the factors that made the character so distinctive.
October 30th, 2007 at 7:03 pm
Welcome aboard Kannan !
Scary Appu is a very well chosen example.
When he finishes off Delhi Ganesh is pretty sudden for the audience. We are also watching the domino-routine and the arrow comes in from nowhere. Ilayaraja springs into action for slowcoaches like yours truly who haven’t stopped smiling still.
When he pushes the ball back for the second arrow he has Appu has a menacing expression which is pretty scary. We have never seen him before. The sword wielding Appu in the interval block is wearing his clown paint.
The Nasser murder is on the same lines. Even though you see the tiger you are still not allowed to realize the gravity of the situation thanks to the line “jimmy….kutti…naalu vayasu thAn aavudhu”
You mention the satisfactory grin. It comes with a sort of blood-lust that makes one wonder who is actually mauling Nasser. (recently noticed that his name in this film is :…Nallasivam !)
October 30th, 2007 at 8:29 pm
Missed to mention it the last time around, this is a superb write-up, Kannan. And, a great choice of topic.
I’ve always found the depiction of the “villainy” of Appu (the cold grin, the twinkle in the eye) in Aboorva Sagodharargal to be one of the subtle but audacious choices that Kamal made in his revisionist take of the stock revenge story of two sons separated at birth. Indeed, all victims take him lightly and pay the price. (”AnA, alatchiya paduthittiyE Anbarasu!” he says.) But, there’s something far more meditative in this choice of making the avenger a midget. In other words, there would have been no avenger had there not been a midget son. Appu is the one who is forced to bear the burden of their villainous act, and it’s only fitting that he should carry out the execution. And this could lend more meaning to his life in a way. Of course, this is fairly well established in the film itself, the root cause for his revenge is his being a midget and not his father’s death. What is also notable is how deftly Raja is kept out of all this. (The comic genius is of course in the way Raja is brought into all this!) He could chip in for fight sequences and manage to pull off some fisticuffs, but he’s no killer material. Raja can never be truly aware (not just literally, but also psychologically) of the horror of what the villains did to his family.
The way things transpire to this point is also fascinating. Sethupathi, the father, also an upright police officer, takes on a bunch of corrupt bigwigs, but when he loses the case and is suspended (stock material again), he doesn’t go seeking justice in other ways. (His mood quickly changes to familial concerns, the flute theme piece makes its entry, as Sethupathi sits dejected after the court session.) But, the villains kill him brutally (quintessentially stock), but not because he arrested them, but because he crossed the usual limits. (And, that is in turn because Sethupathi is provoked by Dharma Raj’s arrogance which makes him go overboard.)
Prabhu Ram,
Now, what is Delhi Ganesh’s name in the film? But of course, Anbarasu!
October 30th, 2007 at 9:05 pm
Francis Anbarasan, that is. I also like the fifth guy’s name — Valliyambalam. (”podhumakkaLukkum, periyOrgaLukkum, thAimArgaLukkum, kuzhandhaigaLukkum…“) Of course, Kamal’s usage of very real-life-like names is lovely in general. Be it Subramanya Raju (a nod to the eponymous, renowned Tamil writer), Palakkadu Mani Iyer (a nod to the eponymous, renowned Mridanga Vidwan; simultaneously a nod to Gurumurthy, the Mridangam player of Sindhu Bhairavi?), VirumAndi, KothALan, PEikkAman or PuliyERupadiyAn!
October 30th, 2007 at 10:10 pm
Coming back to Aboorva Sagodharargal, Appu’s execution of the four villains could possibly seen as even being slightly unfairly to them! It’s not as if a doctor told Srividya that her son is a midget because of a poison intake. (When giving birth to twins, it’s possible that one of the babies, most often the elder one, turns out to be less ‘enabled.’ Also, by the time she’s forced to take poison, the babies are in full shape and are all set to be delivered!) “oru vELai, nAn kudicha veshathunAla dhAn ippadi AyittiyO ennamO…” she ponders, and Appu takes no time to buy that perspective. (And, these guys did kill his father after all.)
What a fantastic film! This is our man’s Kill Bill, I say!
October 31st, 2007 at 6:57 am
Not exactly a baddie, but I find Virumandi’s put-on act in the courtroom(Kondarasu’s murder case) to be one of the classic example of ‘grey areas’ in every individual, and how he submits (and becomes “means”) to Kothala thevar’s scheme. Note that Peiykkaman says to Viru, naama ellaarumE karuvinga dhaan - Makes more sense!
October 31st, 2007 at 7:11 am
Kamal’s films are often self-referential (to his own life, and qualities,) the characters’ names are self-referential with “names” at least. Very good find PR and Zero, never realized this particular one.
BTW, If I remember correctly, Kannannn made a great point sometime back about recurrent character(s) - the pimp-like middle man, in Peiykkaman (Virumandi,) Govardhan ((Hey! Ram,) Dhanush (Mahanadhi.) Of course, there are many many more..
October 31st, 2007 at 10:02 am
Prabhu Ram and Zero, great points. The sword wielding clown before the interval nicely sets the viewer up for what is in store. Infact, the interval evenly divides the movie into pre-revenge and revenge phases (another example of how meticulously written the screenplay is).
Yes, Appu’s eagerness to attribute his stunted growth to the poison is probably his way of coping up with life after the marriage disastor. He might have wanted something to live for and finally found it in the form of the four. That would explain why he doesn’t go through the formal justice system.
October 31st, 2007 at 7:23 pm
Zero, Nice one about names.In fact Kamal “Hassan” itself is a tribute-name !
And Jaishankar is Sathyamoorthy (as in “un pEr enna daaaaa…!”). In AS, it may have been a clever joke as he is a lawyer.
btw SatyA may have been about nesam vandhu kadichirum but perhaps also a nod to the freedom fighter Sathyamoorthy(must dig if Kamal’s father was associated with him).
But the grand naming award goes to Mahanadhi: with Krishna, Saraswati,kavEri,Yamuna,Punjabi,BaraNi..the script was still far from watered down.
In this regard, Hey Ram ! itself deserves an essay. Perhaps a separate post here.
November 9th, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Aboorva Sagodharargal - the scene in which Appu kills Jaishankar. The way Kamal’s eyes shine - evil fucking glint in the iris. And that upturned lip. Genius! genius!
Zero/Prabhu Ram - Funny you should mention names. For a long time, I’ve been nursing a thought - the names of the three main chars in AnbeSivam -
Nalla loves Bala
A. Ars loves Saras
I thought it was a deft touch. And thought I was the only one who’d noticed that. Damn!