Complete actor vs method hero

Sivaji Ganesan in the Tamil film “Arunodhayam”.
| Photo Credit: The Hindu Archives

Sivaji Ganesan was a legend in Tamil cinema. For any cinema buff who lived during his heyday, Sivaji was the yardstick to measure the calibre of other actors.

Once started on this topic, elders in my family would wax eloquent: “Sivaji was the most complete actor. The current day artistes cannot hold a candle to him! This is not blind fanaticism. Look at the range of roles he has played! In Navarathiri, he did nine characters in one film, each completely different from the others!”

What was equally admirable was the consistency in the supporting arguments of a Sivaji fan. It was as if, like the thespian, the fan too followed a script. “In Thillana-Mohanambal, Sivaji learnt to play the nadaswaram, so that he could essay the role convincingly! Look at his finger movements, the wobble in his shoulders, and even the blood-vessel throbbing on his forehead! And when it came to the film Mridanga-chakravarti, he mastered the percussion instrument. His entire body language was spot-on! Nadai-udai-bhaavanai — in walk, in dress, in expression, he became the role! And when it came to the freedom fighter Veera Pandiya Kattaibomman, what can we say? The dialogues from the film are cinematic folklore, that give goosebumps even now!” At this point, the Sivaji fan normally drifted off to “kisthi-thirai-vari-vaddi…”, Sivaji’s most iconic tete-a-tete with “Jackson Durai” in the film.

Growing up in Mumbai, we were one generation too late. Sivaji’s “heyday” was over. Also, access to his films was limited.

Occasionally, the Sunday afternoon “regional film” on Doordarshan was a Tamil film in which Sivaji starred. “Don’t you think his emotions are a little over the top, Appa?” The Sivaji fan at home interjected before you could continue further, “Yes, he comes from a theatre background. In a drama, you need to emote — to convey that rasa to the audience. You cannot mumble, like today’s artistes do, standing still, like a tree! The performance must be impactful, and that is where Sivaji was head and shoulders above others!”

If the Sunday afternoon film was in a regional language, the Sunday evening TV slot was reserved for Bollywood. Sometimes, they played films from a previous era. Comparisons were inevitable. The superstar Dilip Kumar followed a different acting style. He was called a “method actor”. Maybe, in acting too, there was some “method to the madness”.

Dilip saab was from that school. As Prince Salim, in the film Mughal-e-Azam, he took on Akbar the Great. It was truly a clash of the titans! “Taqdeeren badal jaati hain, zamaanaa badal jaataa hai” — Dilip saab’s legendary lines from the film left its impact on an entire generation of cinemagoers.

The Sivaji fan, his pride pricked earlier in the day, took potshots but. “The lines are beautiful, but with due credit to Dilip saab, there is no emphasis at all! It is as if he is reciting the multiplication table! Where is the emotion, I say?”

Someone had to rush to Dilip saab’s rescue, “Yes, the emotion is ‘understated’. It is restrained acting to give a greater impact. Maybe, Salim and Akbar talked in such a matter-of-fact fashion, back then. Who knows?”

Once the film ended on Sunday night, suddenly, the dread of Monday morning and school loomed large. Some comic relief was needed to ease the tension. We took Dilip saab’s lines and parodied how Sivaji would have rendered the same scene. With emphasis and emotion on each word, the dialogue would have taken forever. By then, Akbar would have given up. Anarkali would have surely given up. And Akbar would have anyway dispatched marching orders to seal Anarkali’s fate!

Sivaji and Dilip saab — two actors, two styles, two languages, both legends all the same.

shankar.ccpp@gmail.com