With randramble

Birthday reflections are far from peaceful preoccupations. Even if he has lived an eventful 53 years and has a cap cluttered with feathers, contentment seems a far cry for Kamal. Every interview smacks of a Schindlerian “I could have done more”, which works out just fine for the greedy viewer.

Attention grabbing. That is what artists do for a living. But the blink-and-you-miss moments — which is a sort of Kamal signature — make meeting-the-artist midway quite a task. And of course the rewards are great. So, how about sharing the rewards then, just like we did last year?

All ye, who have seen MMKR, would recall the short-lived giggle that Kameswaran lets go, when ChakkubAi plonks herself on him and just before reigning himself when Tiruppu shoots a scorching look. With all due respect to Crazy here, it was one of those several Kamal-Singeetham moments. One can actually trace the idea back to a few passing frames in Aboorva SahOdarargaL.

This in the famous driving lesson, that has screamers like “nice-A vandhittEn”. The car is stuck in the middle of the road and Raja and Janaki have to exchange seats. Kamal steals a wickedly funny moment here. No lines, no stopping the viewer to direct his attention to the moment — just an ingenious expression that send the observant viewer rolling. Here it is in a thousand words:

Now, this is becoming a Singeetham special too. In the path-breaking movie that was Pushpak aka Pesum Padam, acting is restrained by the lack of dialogues. From balcony to balcony, he speaks with the girl he likes. After telling him about her parents, she asks him about his. Talking cheerfully till then, he becomes sad. He recovers quickly, puts out his tongue to indicate that they are dead. She empathasises and melancholy sets in, with the violin background of L Vaidhyanathan.

Moving onto little bit more serious stuff, Nandhu of Aalavandhaan (Abhay) is in one of his hallucinations and the doctor asks him where he picked up so much violence from. Combining the innocence of the character and the mischief of the writer, he replies that he learnt it by watching cartoons.

That’s it from us. What’s your “Kamal moment”? Let’s have a better show this year in the Comments section.

Kamal’s screenplays of Hey Ram and Mahanadhi are out as a book, not in Tamil, but in Malayalam! Titled Kamalhaasanda Rendu Thirakadhagal, the release was done in DC International Book Fair and Cultural Fest at Thiruvananthapuram.

The Hindu earlier published an interview with Kamal on the occasion, where he talks about his evolution as a writer. Though not in his own words, Marmayogi receives some confirmation here. Check out a different edition for a nice photo and also a report from Behindwoods.

While a screenplay being published as a book is common in Hollywood and elsewhere, it is good to see such things happening in India too. Hopefully, it will happen in the language of Kamal’s writings too sometime soon.

[With input from Ananth]

[Picture courtesy: BehindWoods]

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.

Editor’s Note:
After giving “outside support” for a very long time, HAL debuts as an author on AllThingsKamal.info. A different kind of post — hope all of you enjoy. In the Kamal A2Z series, we move onto ‘C’ in a couple of days…

Avvai Shanmughi is one of the underrated comedies from Crazy-Kamal combo. K.S. Ravikumar’s first with Kamal. Which was to be followed by Thenali, a more slapstick humour and successful film, then Panchathanthiram with a taut script of events laced with verbal humour, and the much anticipated magnum opus, Dasavatharam.

Avvai Shammughi has an interesting premise, inspired by Mrs. Doubtfire, garnished and served in Indian platter. Not to sound hyperbolic — frankly the narrative is chalk and cheese, and the execution is much better in Tamil version. The film opens with Kamal’s monologue “Avvai T.K. Shanmugham avargal-ku idhu paadhai kaanikai“, the film is dedicated to T.K. Shanmugham (Kappalotiya Thamizhan, Ratha Paasam), Kamal’s mentor who was a famous theatre artist. The film is a tribute to Shamugham’s various female performances on stage.

It would suffice to say that his mentor Shamugham would have been proud with Kamal’s near-perfect portrayal of a pseudo-Maami, Pandian’s disguised act as Avvai Shanmughi - a brahmin granny as a nanny. The body language, the dialect and the expressions here are top-notch, making one wonder how he does it through layers of make-up and get-up where likes of Eddie murphy just fail(ed), or just falls short of perfection like Robin Williams. Kamal treads a fine line of balance as Pandian himself wouldn’t be completely versed on Brahmin etiquettes and behaviour, the ‘caricature’ effect that Pandian brings as Shanmughi is justified and perfect.

While Virumandi deals on the nihilism of marriage in a darker realistic paradigm, Mouli’s Pammal K Sambandham is all about ‘marriage’ in a more banter-like narrative, KSR’s Panchathanthiram is a roller-coaster ride of ‘marriage’ and Sathi Leelavathy is about adultery and a disrupted relationship, with the protagonist giving her best to save the marriage. Here we have two people who love and marry, but then arises the misfit of the classes, the rich Janaki (played by Meena) who could not lead a bourgeois married life with an assistant dance master (as she says, a “koothaadi” — Kamal cuts back with statements like “Natrajar” is a koothadi, the lawyer is a vaayaadi)..

Unlike PKS where Kamal plays an innocent stuntman (his only other role of a direct worker in the industry), tricked by Simran’s scheme for a more selfish purpose and a different reason. It’s quite the opposite here, with Kamal pulling his ‘act’ to be with his daughter, named Bharathi, after the great poet himself. The deceit here arises out of loneliness and love for his family. Then starts the fable.

For its theme, the film maintains the humour with no homosexuality or no sexist remarks. That’s a remarkable achievement in itself.

What’s with a Kamal comedy without Chaplin reference, Deva’s score here heavily lifts from Chaplin’s theme. The memorable piece that we associate with Chaplin certainly lifts the mood of the scenes. With Chaplinesque collage moments, from the daily routine of Pandian to Shanmughi to Pandian again, or the quick snippets of Pandian/Shanmughi dressing or undressing. Kamal’s gestural sequences have always been an indirect tribute to Chaplin.

And assumed identity? Pandian-Shanmughi aside, there’s another inclusion in Pandian’s friend Bhai (played by Nasser), a chef becoming a mute Iyer cook (hence avoiding the ‘accent’ misfit). There is an hilarious moment when when he blabbers, and it’s assumed to be ‘gothra‘. (Kamal, as always, brings a slight dose of atheism at places, in a more subdued way here, of course.)

Mix-up of characters? Shanmughi has different husbands at different times. She creates a fictional one out of compulsion to escape from Vishwanathan Iyer’s crush (Ungalukku oru Chellamaa illaiya, adhu madhiri ennaku oru Chellappaa irukkaar). That is followed by a spoof of a yesteryear tragic song symbolizing ‘love-failure’ (with black an white transition in video), from an old Gemini Ganesan starrer, Kalyana Parisu. [The song soulfully rendered by A.M.Raaja is “Kaadhalile tholviyutraan“ — there is a female version too.] The once poignant nostalgic lines, “kaadhalilE tholvi yutraan kaaLai oruvan kadantha pinnE amaithi engu peruvaan”, used in a much similar context, offers a comical moment here.

Shanmughi’s husband is cyclic with instinctive lies from Pandian / Shanmughi: For Mudhaliyar (the landlord, played by Manivannan), it’s Sethuraman Iyer (Delhi Ganesh). In a well-conceived funny moment (reminiscent to Ganesh-Kamal-Lakshmi in MMKR), here we see Ganesh-Manivannan-Kamal:

Pandian: Shanmughi oda purushaen Sethuraman Iyer thirumba vandhutaaru...
Mudhaliyar: Ayyo nee anniku Vishwanathan iyer-nu thaane sonna…
Pandian: Oh adhayum sollitaenaa! Rendu pEr..
Mudhaliyar: Two purushanaa?
Pandian: Rendu pEr, Sethurama-Viswanatha Iyer-nu neelama vechutanga…
Mudhaliyar: Adha suruki, Sethuraman…neenga nambula parunga..irunga…(to Sethuraman iyer) Vishwanathan Iyer, Sethuraman Iyer..rendu perayum* ennaku theriyum illa?

* ‘pErayum‘ is cleverly used as a pun here, as this would mean a ‘name’ of person or as the person. In MMKR, Kamal and Delhi both use ‘adhu’, one referring the Bangalore trip, the other about intimate romance — not to forget the hilarious ‘Nadodi Mannan‘ reference.

Sethuraman Iyer: Unakku theriyaadadha Pandia..kalyanathuku appuram pirichu vechadhu thappu thaan. Adhulla enakku udanpaadu kedaiyadhu…
Pandian: Podhum podhum…kelvi ketta mattum thaan badhil sollanum…(to Mudhaliyar) Podhuma mudalyar?
[Deva uses the Mudhal Mariyaadhai ‘kuyil’ sound for Manivannan in a hilarious fashion.]

For Sethuraman Iyer, it’s Mudhaliyar, who says, “Chellappaa Iyer thaane sonna?”, for which Pandian cooks up “Chellappaa Iyer thaan manam udanju, Mudhaliyar-a convert aytaaru“.

Then in jewellery shop, the drunkard Joseph (Nagesh) becomes Chellappa Iyer / Mudhaliyar, Shanmughi’s fictional husband to Gemini. The cycle ends with Pandian being Shanmughi’s another interest. Rip-roaring word-play to guide throughout…

Or simple gestural humour…

Or the improvisation when Shanmughi improvises a Tabu song “Ruk ruk ruk” (from Vijaypath), to Carnatic fusion, serving the purpose of the occasion, as well as lightening up his kid. Incidentally, Tabu plays Janaki in the remake, Chachi 420.

Like the famous Apoorva Sagodharargal complicated mechanism, here we have a setup to fool Mudhaliyar and Heera with a pedestal fan, pulley, hook and a mug, to simulate Shanmughi bathing inside the bathroom.

The other characters: Heera’s character, an assistant to Pandian, and in a formulaic way, has a crush on him. However, she isn’t distasteful so to speak of. I guess she is the Madras progressive lady here as against the traditional “iyer aathu ponnu” in Meena, one has to look at her short exchange with Mudhaliyar (”Yov, ‘na?“, LOL). Shanmughi also asks her in his first meet in disguise,

Sholay anybody? There is another shorter character (Kamal’s films often has memorable ones) in studio-worker Subburaj:

Pandian: Enna Subburaj-u, pillayar enga podhu?
Subburaj:Idhu ‘pullayar’* illa, ‘ganpathi’, Ezhaam number floor-la Indi padam sooting…
*(Madras variant of ‘pillayar’)
Pandian: Yaarudhu?
Subburaj: Adhu inna* pEru adhu? Maruti biscuit-a illa discuit-a, avangathaan…
*(not ‘enna’, this is Madras improvisation)
Pandian: Yov! Madhuri Dixit-ya, Maruti, Ambassador-nu..

Then there is a very funny physical fight in the market with Kanal Kannan.

And yeah…

While Kamal also shows the Tamil film industry, where the hero (Ramesh Arvind in a short cameo) romances with the heroine, while the dance masters simulate a step (much like the weak-hero spoof in PKS). Or, the touch-up to an artist by the make-up man. Kamal teaching the heroine to exaggerate her bosoms in a song. A satirical take on Tamil film’s dance-song routine…

Or the play of words (verbose)…

“Illai-nu sonna, naan sonnadhu nijam ayidum, nee sonnadhu poi ayidumE” — from Shanmughi to Janaki.
“Vishwanathan ponna kalyana pannadhunaala, yEn ponnu vishwanathan iyer pEthi aydichu, Vishwanathan pEthi, adhoda amma idhu”- - from Pandian to dance master.
“Avaru vandhu “joot” solvaru, apram thaan adikanum enna? Pechu vartha nadakum bodhu, vanmurai koodadhu…” — Sethuraman Iyer to the mob.

Finally the chase? The film ends with a ‘chase’, like other Kamal comedies. The husband (in disguise) chases the wife. It’s either a symbolic motif to represent the ‘chasing each other’ in a cultural / metaphorical sense, or just a recurrent tribute to The Circus. I would like to believe there is an implication here, from what we know of the filmmaker.

While we await Kamal-KSR’s Dasavatharam, here’s a film from their combo to liven up.

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 clichéd 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]

“Anaiyaa Neruppu” (Unextinguished / Unextinguishable Fire) is a short story — or is it a fable? — that appeared in Ananda Vikatan more than a year ago. Thanks to HAL2211 again for reminding me about it. UniversalHeroKamal.com has the Tamil original while Chenthil Nathan has a very good English translation, interestingly titled “The Day I Lost My Chastity”. Kamal’s creativity, thinking and knowledge are on display. Enjoy, if you haven’t already!

Watching films written by Kamal is a unique experience. After growing up watching the film one would discover an aesthetic element, an angle of storytelling that was completely hidden till one sudden viewing. Then on it is impossible to not see the movie without feeling that pattern. In fact it could be so weak that one may not find anyone else who would agree with the interpretation. But then, well made films provide for each viewer’s experience to extend beyond the content of the film.

This happens to me on a regular basis with Kamal films. I can never be sure that the way I enjoyed it this time would be the same as it was last time or the next. Kamal written films tend to be highly deliberate: a line of dialogue, a frame of screenspace exists because it was meant to exist that way. This is what propels you to wrestle with questions about why someone said/did something on screen. And it is most often rewarding.

I have lost count of the number of times I have seen ThEvar Magan. It is a movie that raises complex questions about the nature of responsibility, heritage and individualism. Right from the very title the movie it puts into focus the simple truth which most Indians find anything but simple, that ‘the individual’ is an artificial construct.

Any social critique in India will be incomplete without the artist’s expressed view on God and religion. One of Kamal’s pet themes of atheism, or atleast the impossibility of celestial relief for human problems, is presented quite centrally in movies like Mahanadhi. In others like Hey Ram and Kurudhippunal, they find direct mention. But in ThEvar Magan the issue is handled very subtly and beautifully.

Elements have always enjoyed a supernatural status in our tradition. But in this film they are cast as spectators and sometimes as part of man’s weapons against his fellows.

All is well on the surface, till Sakthi gets Esakki to break the lock of the temple. A temple that is everybody’s and nobody’s like the sky.

But the heavenly quest ends in the gruesome disaster that sparks things off. Ramu and co. respond by setting fire to the opponents’ huts.

The opponents reply by blowing up the reservoir and letting the water flood in and kill.

When Sakthi gets the better of that challenge (with a highly visual image of being soaked in the wet earth), Mayan is disturbed. The lawyer’s cunning idea is to get back through land. The scene ends with the lawyer’s wink and Mayan’s smile cutting to a shot that is on a hole in the reddish brown earth where the fence is being planted. The plan sees the end of Periya ThEvar.

The last faceoff does not end in a granary — as it could have very easily been. But the fight is broken into two and a chase is inserted — even at the great risk of losing tempo which is why I feel very strongly that the whole thing is highly deliberate. The chase takes Sakthi and Mayan into excessively windy open fields.

The final encounter happens with veshtis fluttering wildly and Sakthi uses a minor God’s weapon (which one may think of as the culmination of the cycle mishaps that began at a temple).

Note that the wind may seem like a really weak link here. But there is more than one shot of it which makes my case slighly stronger.

1. When Esakki and Kanakku lead a gang to attack Chinna ThEvar’s house, they rise from below in a frame. The crop in the foreground is seen to sway to wildly in the wind.
2. Similarly when someone passes the news of Mayan’s hideout to his mother, the atmosphere is very windy in the backyard.

This whole attempt to see the story in the backdrop of an elements may seem nebulous but I put the reason why I put it forward is because of this:

In the discussion in Chinna ThEvars house, Chinna ThEvar asks what is the course of action. The possibility giving them a taste of their own medicine by burning their huts in reply, is ruled out. The henchman appears silly by replying: “adhu mudiyaadhungayya, mazhai peyyudhulla, amaththippudum” to which Mayan replies with “neruppukku badhil thaNNi dhaanE”: isn’t water the (fit) response to fire ?

On the surface this looks as if a gem of an idea germinating from the henchman’s stupid remark. But I argue that it is more than that. It was a broad hint of how the elements are pitted against each other in the rest of the film.

This helps connect ThEvar Magan to Kamal’s other films where he puts the onus of social ills, squirely on individuals. Not blaming religion per se, but blind faith. The aesthetic appeal lies in the fact that, the views do not decry the institution of religion itself. For instance Periya ThEvar’s famous dialogues in the rain-scene, seem very much in line with the Gita-vian emphasis on every individual’s duty and is of universal appeal. And it is perhaps hinted, that it is highly compatible with rationality.

PS: Thanks a lot for the pics, Thilak.

[Editor’s Note: A new site is just the beginning. We also need new ideas and fresh blood. Here comes some, in the form of Prabhu Ram!]

SS Music telecasted a programme on Tamil New Year’s day, about Kamal receiving the Living Legend award, with various people talking about him. I thought that now was a good time to brush up the past a bit, although in a different way.

Sripriya, who co-starred with Kamal in many movies:

My inspiration to learn Tamil came from many persons, such as Vaalee and Kamal Haasan…has not studied much but he writes poetry. So I thought when Kamal Haasan could do it why not I? I have read a lot of Kannadasan’s songs also.

Kamal Haasan and Rajinikanth are my good friends. I learned a lot from them, particularly Kamal Haasan from whom I learnt dance.

Gautham, who directed in his last movie, Vaettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu:

I conceived the story after Kamal said we’d work together. He rejected my first script and that’s when I thought I’d make him a super cop stalking a serial killer. `Let’s do it,’ he said

I was jittery. Kamal is not only a super actor but also a director. You can’t play the fool with him. If I want an extra take from Kamal, I have to give him the right reason. I just can’t afford to be casual with someone of his stature.

K Balachander, his mentor, of course, has often praised Kamal. Here are a few things he said about Kamal and also Rajni:

Answering the million-dollar question as to if he would direct Kamal and Rajini in a movie, Balachander answered that he is open for the project if the two stars are ready to go for it. Besides, he, as it seems, has a script of sorts for the project as well. “I would not cast them in two opposite roles”. On the contrary, my movie would cast them as brothers who run into occasional prank fights, he replied.

Replying to another question, he stated, “Kamal requested me to open a college to support cinema and stage. However, I have no immediate plans for the same. But if I was asked to head a college I would happily agree for that”.

Finally, we have Santhanabharathi, his long-time friend and associate:

As far as Mahanadhi goes, Kamal has acted very well in this movie. Certain shots that he has given in this movie, I wouldn’t have expected even in my wildest dreams. Particularly the scene where his daughter comes to visit him in jail. He told me to continue to take till he gave the cue. Everybody knew the scene, but nobody knew how he was going to do it. The emotions of a father, his helplessness…. and at the same time the need to hide his feelings from his children was really moving. When the scene got finally over, I had tears in my eyes.

The character in Guna can be played only by Kamal Haasan and no one else.

If I have to talk about Kamal Haasan, I would say he’s an encyclopaedia. He’s a self-made person. I have known him from my school days, infact I have seen the way he has grown, from the time he first came into films. He would take the initiative to learn on his own by reading a lot of books, talking to people and by watching movies. If he speaks about something it wouldn’t be out of the hat, his arguments are supported by a lot of reading and learning. Even though he did not have much of a formal education, his knowledge is immmense.

When it comes to movies, he gets totally involved with his character. Whether he has to put on weight, shed weight, go bald, grow a beard or change his complexion he would do it. For Guna, he dieted and lost a lot of weight and throughout the movie we see a darker version of him. For the last scene in Guna where we show him falling down a steep slope, we could have used a rubber dummy, but he insisted that the dummy should look exactly like himself and we moulded a dummy…we went about moulding the dummy part by part, first the hand, then the head, then the neck and so on. For that, he had to sit through for very long hours. You need a lot of patience for all that. He’s very helpful and cooperative when it comes to that. That’s why Indian was such a great success. Once you put on the make-up, you can’t even eat till it’s taken off. He wouldn’t mind all that, because of the total involvement that he has.

Lots of people ask me…how come he fights with all other directors but not with you. Well the thing is, any product is a result of teamwork. If somebody gives a good suggestion, there is nothing wrong in taking it. Actors like Kamal Haasan will surely bring their inputs to the character and the movie. For them the movie is more important than anything else. You have to take it as teamwork rather than personally, otherwise nothing will get done.

Some time ago, I came across this lovely mash-up of Pesum Padam aka Pushpaka Vimana aka Pushpak, by Thilak. The video covers most of the important portions of the movie. Beethoven’s symphony score in the background, though a little too sad, adds to the nostalgic value.

After watching the video, you might be interested in reading the creator’s thoughts at PassionForCinema.

Recently, Kamal’s interviews appeared on Asianet (Malayalam) and Sun TV (Tamil) channels. Many of us weren’t fortunate to catch them live, but watched portions of it later through other means.

The Asianet interview happens in an informal setting on a houseboat, in Malayalam and English. As the houseboat moves through the lake, Kamal and the interviewer are having lunch. Highlights:

• Right at the end, Kamal calls actors as “specialised tools” used by the maker of the movie. He uses an analogy to Shakespeare and says that only the filmmaker will be remembered ultimately. It’s a bit of a shock when he declares that he’s not very interested in continuing as an actor.
• Kamal talks about his time in Malayalam cinema — the simple living, the camaraderie — and mentions Soman, IV Sasi and Jayan. He lauds the friendship shared by the industry folks and says that only the current crop in Bollywood (K Jo and gang) come close.
• He also talks about upliftment of women and proudly says that India is better than even USA.
• He even sings a Carnatic song.
• He laments about the current commercial setup of movies.

The interview on Sun TV was done by Gowthami. It even had some interludes from people who have been associated with Kamal. Highlights:

• Kamal is very confident of Dasavatharam, talking high of the screenplay and Ravikumar’s enthusiasm on hearing the story. KSR and Kamal talk of their experience of working together on the movie.
• Kamal and Mani Ratnam talk about how Kamal was involved in all aspects of Nayakan. Mani even displays a shade of jealousy while Kamal is thrilled about appreciation from him.
• He attributes his growth to the people whom he grew up with — family, mentor, etc.
• He still expresses confidence in the audience regarding support for experimentation in movies.
• The interview moves onto things other than movies. An amusing digression is Kamal reciting a shloka and using that to bring out his rationalist views. It continues with Illaiyaraaja’s comments.
• K Balachander recounts an experience during Punnagai Mannan very emotionally.

Behindwoods carries a report on the same programme.

If you get a chance to catch any of these interviews some time, don’t miss them!