The Superstar of Many Faces

(Published in Matinee, The New Indian Express, dated 13th July, 2008)

"Ammaavum neeye, Appaavum neeye…"

The deep-set, sad eyes, the innocent upturned face and the resigned mouth of the little boy who sang the song in Kalaththoor Kannamma would have aroused the maternal instincts of the most masculine-minded women. Forty-eight years later, the same deep-set eyes have portrayed every emotion in the book, the tiny little body has gone through a series of transformations, the tuft of hair has seen every style from a tonsure to a waist-length Rasta, and the boy who warmed the hearts of mothers had grown into the man who stirs audiences across the globe. Seven of his films have been in the running for Oscar nomination, he has received civilian honours and doctorates, he is a singer, dancer, actor, director, writer…one would think he had done everything there was to do in film. And then he comes up with something new – a film that could have been a swansong if one were not so sure Kamal Haasan will not – because he cannot – leave cinema till his last breath. Kamal Haasan appeared in ten avathaarams in what could be described as Navaraathiri-meets-Sivaji. But his career has spanned much more than ten avathaarams – complete with a different consort for each one.

Some of Kamal's performances have stood out even amongst each other, and each one of those seems to have been the flagship of a phase in his career. The brooding intensity and inherent defiance in movies like Apoorva Raagangal and Unnaal Mudiyum Thambi went on to ripen to maturity in Naayagan. But these three performances were separated by close to a decade each. The Prasanna of Apoorva Raagangal gave way to the trusting, helpless characters he played in movies like Moondru Mudichu and Padhinaaru Vayadhiniley. He then moved on to comedy, as Mani in Meendum Kokila. Decades later, Kamal would revisit these two genres and bring them together beautifully, intertwining pathos and hilarity as the title character of Tenali and Pammal K Sambandam, as Avinashi in Mumbai Express and even in and as Vasool Raja, MBBS.

Then, Kamal went on to play the psychologically disturbed lead character of Sigappu Rojaakkal, where you couldn't decide whether you loved him, feared him or despised him. As he grew as an actor, he would weave together the dangerously disturbed and the endearingly innocent in Guna, and later, in Aalavandhaan – daring roles that most actors would have hesitated to take on in the hero-driven Indian film industries, for fear of what they might do to their "image". But be it the idealistic lone intellectual fighting society (to eventually lose) that he experimented with in Varumayin Niram Sigappu, Punnagai Mannan and Salangai Oli, the swashbuckling daredevil in Guru and Vikram, the steadfast, upright fiery know-it-all of Sattam, the sensitive, troubled character who swings between avuncular and amorous leanings in Moondram Pirai or the heartrendingly delicate visually impaired character of Raja Paarvai, Kamal Haasan barely ever allowed the wax to settle around his image before breaking out of it. He even temporarily turned into the Mithun Chakraborty of Tamil cinema, with a trail of movies like Simla Special and Sakalakalaa Vallaban ­– a phase he jokingly thanked Mohan of "Ilaya Nila…" fame for helping him out of. In a television interview, Kamal Haasan once said, "if Mohan had not gabbed the mic. I was holding in my hand, you probably would never have seen a Velunayakan or Nallasivam."

Nayagan was followed soon enough by a series of transformation stories like Devar Magan and Mahanadhi, which would be capped years later by what is arguably Kamal Haasan's best performance of all – Anbe Sivam. But even as the heaviness of these roles was beginning to weigh down his fans, he churned out the laugh-a-minute Sathileelaavathi, where the bumbling Dr. Sakthivel and his hysteria-prone wife Palani played the perfect foil to the three protagonists of a marriage on the verge of breakdown. And then, out of the blue, came Indian –a movie that made you laugh, cry and sit up straight.

What did Kamal Haasan have left to do? Why, the thing the man he describes as the person he relates most to – Dustin Hoffman – had done a while earlier…play a woman! And very few women could have brought the proverbial 'Mylapore Mami' to life the way Kamal in and as Avvai Shanmugi did…to the extent one felt rather embarrassed when he stripped off his saree. Then, as if to reassert his masculinity, came Hey Ram – the role of an individual at war with an institution – which he would reprise in and as Virumandi, as Rangaraja Nambi in Dasavatharam, and (hopefully) in and as Marudhanayagam.

The dexterity with which Kamal switches between the chaste Brahmin Tamil and the crude Madras Tamil, even while exploring the dialects of distinct corners of the state, are only matched by the variety of roles he can handle simultaneously. We've had glimpses of his penchant for playing multiple characters before. Movies like Yenakkul Oruvan, Kalyanaraman, Punnagai Mannan, Indrudu Chandrudu, Apoorva Sagodhirargal and – possibly the most successful of them all as far as individual character definition goes – Michael Madhana Kamarajan have left us in no doubt of this little indulgence. So when his latest offering was first announced, the hype began to build up. For years, fans, critics and sceptics wondered what they would see…and when they finally did see it, many were left disappointed. Some have shaken their heads at the makeup for certain roles, while others have found holes in the plot.

But Dasavatharam is not the typical Kamal Haasan movie – it is not meant to probe your mind and alter the way you think; it is not meant to carry a subversive atheistic argument; it is not meant to make you marvel at the subtle nuances of performance. It is a stage set for a theatrical act, stretched to gigantic scale. It is a display of what a man whose larger-than-life image has never superseded the characters he plays, can do when given the reins; it is an exhibition of talent without restraint; it is a first in Kamal Haasan's acting career in that he is openly bigger than the film. Dasavatharam is a hero's treat for his fans – for the ones who have secretly longed to see their man pulling off impossible stunts and claiming his share of the screen by scorching it with his presence; for the ones who have wondered what Brand Kamal Haasan will be. 

And Dasavatharam is perhaps the most definitive definition of Brand Kamal Haasan – a study in metamorphosis…a journey which began with the sturdy little steps of Kannamma's son, turning into the jaunty saunter of Prasanna, into the crippling limp of Chappaani, into the hesitant curiosity of Mani, into the bell-bottomed foot tapping of Sakalakalaa Vallaban, into the kurta-clad purist dancing fervour of Balakrishna, into the languid swagger of Vikram, into the splayed-footed walk of Chaplin Chellappa, into the determined march of Velunayagan, into the surefooted gambolling of Guna, into the demure grace of Avvai Shanmugi, into the stride of Saket Ram, into the dragging limp of Nallasivam, into the charge (one would hope) of Marudhanayagam.