Dear Kamal Haasan, stick to the movies
When a thinking actor fumbles with his opening lines in politics, there’s an uneasy feeling that something is amiss and you wonder if it’s going to plan. Perhaps the role is not tailormade for him
When a thinking actor fumbles with his opening lines in politics, there’s an uneasy feeling that something is amiss and you wonder if it’s going to plan. Perhaps the role is not tailor-made for him. Did he simply embed his character into a comical storyline — if there is one? One thing is certain though: he’s unwilling to share screen space with other players in this make-believe pursuit of mass happiness and ‘service to society’. His trite opening lines at an academic seminar at Harvard (no less) gave me an indication where this is leading. In his cultured, cultivated tone he said he’d given up his distinguished movie career to build model villages in his home state in India. Nice try, Weinstein, er Einstein.
But when you’re the Ulaga Nayagan (global hero) like Kamal Haasan, you could be forgiven your folly to think that you will slip into any role with ease, even if the setting is the dustbowl of Indian politics. You’re an actor, after all, a thespian. You can’t be serious! But the man isn’t listening. So, random incantations to Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru followed at Harvard as he attempted to cast a spell on a global audience.
And why not? He’s been the Kaadhal Mannan — Tamil for the King of Romance — for four decades, and wants to show them how deep his love for rural India is. The Harvard show was of academic interest at best, far removed from the grim insanity that he was wandering into with his eyes open. As a politician learning his lines, the star has flopped even before he hits the road to what could be political obscurity.
Which begs the question: What is India’s finest method actor doing in a grimy place like this? And why at this stage of his life and career? The perfectionist that he is, Kamal modelled himself on Marlon Brando, the original, the Godfather himself. I never really grew fond of their body of work. That’s because they tried too hard and I strayed from the cause. It wasn’t just about acting, they were grossly involved in their work, or over-estimated their abilities as they explored a gamut of strange emotions that I could not grasp and make meaningful connections with.
Kamal, for his part, went on to play the role of a don in Nayakan, which bagged him his second national award for best actor (he has won three). His movies turned heads in the West, at the Oscars and Cannes. In his heyday, women swooned over him while he appeared distant and played hard to get. It was said he spoke through his eyes and all resistance from his leading ladies would crumble when they ran around trees or got drenched in water from sprinklers, the love routine Indian movies have become infamous for. He didn’t have to wink to grab your attention like Priya Varrier, the latest social media sensation who’s taken the net by storm.
The King of Romance was in control of the creative frame in his prime. Kamal Haasan’s heart for his craft was in the right place. He pushed the boundaries in cinema, set benchmarks, and was taken seriously as a leading man. He played a lover, lunatic, dwarf and don with equal elan. He acted, wrote, directed, produced, danced and sang for his just rewards. The national awards for best actor are testament to his talent. He was self-made, and he traversed far to make it to the pinnacle of Indian cinema. A remarkable achievement for a man who lacked a formal education to boast of.
Pushpak, his silent movie, remains my favourite, where the characters speak volumes when they saying nothing at all. The moviemaker was in his element in that classic. It was a masterstroke from the man who has prided himself in sighs of silence. That spell of silence has now been broken as he steps out of his creative confines, intent on soiling his reputation.
Which takes me back to an event in 2000 in Chennai, when I bumped into the star. I was dabbling in some theatre and music in my spare time. Kamal looked tired, withdrawn, and was reluctant to chat. His movie Hey Ram was out in theatres and was not doing as well as expected. I could understand his concern. I didn’t ask for his autograph. I hate it when celebrities scribble rubbish on some paper. An interview, not of the gossipy kind, I promised. “Call my office in a week,” he mumbled, looking somewhat bored. The master of ceremonies was belting out the
Kadhal Mannan sobriquet and invented some more for effect. The MC’s adulation didn’t draw the desired reaction as was clear from the actor’s visage. I got the feeling he needed some rest and quiet. I had his number. The interview, however, did not come through. His office was evasive. He was booked for some shoots they said, when I called.
I complained to a friend about his behaviour, and was informed that the gentleman had attitude. “Don’t bother with him, his silence can be telling and compelling at the same time,” said my friend. For want of a better description, I prefer saying, ‘enigmatic’. He was a mysterious star back then, often unconventional, where he set the ground rules and garnered the space he sought on screen. That enigma is being threatened with his entry into politics. Shorn of that mystery, Kamal Haasan will be one of the many stars who have been there, achieved nothing and fallen flat. When he completes doing the rounds in politics, lost, lovelorn and lonely, I can only hope that he finds a soft place to fall in the movies where he truly belongs.