Why did C Rudraiah’s career never take off after his dazzling debut film? The film industry’s answer: “Avar Appadithan.”
This is your first film, and even the way you refer to this first film in the acknowledgements at the beginning is different – not as “mudhal padam,” which is the literal translation, but as “kanni muyarchi,” your virgin attempt. Padam signifies a tangible product – a film. Muyarchi, on the other hand, is shrouded with vagueness – it suggests flailing about, it suggests a search, it suggests an experiment. Aval Appadithan (loose translation: She Is the Way She Is; in other words, her own person, not too concerned about blending in with the rest of society, all of which, gender-reversed, seems to apply to the director C Rudraiah as well) was all of these things, especially an experiment. The film, which was released in October 1978, remains one of a kind, an “art film” made with huge commercial-cinema stars (Kamal Haasan, Rajinikanth, Sripriya).
PC Sreeram, who was Rudraiah’s junior at the Adyar Film Institute (Rudraiah graduated in 1975), told me, “We were all totally zapped by the movie. This is the kind of world cinema we had been exposed to, the kind of cinema we believed in, and to see one of your own make this kind of movie, in your mother tongue, was amazing.” Imagine what the audience must have made of it. You go to the theatre seeing the faces on the posters, the stars who were last seen together in Ilamai Oonjalaadugiradhu, Sridhar’s superhit which was released just that June, and you expect a story-driven melodrama along similar lines, with probably a trendy “item number” like Yennadi Meenatchi, and instead you get… this, this moody dissection of a woman’s psyche. And, at first look, this isn’t even a very likeable woman, someone you feel sorry for, someone whose plight makes your eyes swim in tears, but a woman who’s to her gender what cacti are to the plant kingdom. She’s filled with thorns, and she does her darnedest to keep you away.
When a film is in the spotlight – due to, say, its director’s demise, as in this case – there is a tendency to shove other films into the darkness, and if we are to be really fair to the other directors of the time, we should take note of K Balachander’s Thappu Thalangal, which was released in 1977. That film, too, had Rajinikanth and Kamal Haasan (in a special appearance), and it, too, had an “adult” storyline that was unusual for Tamil cinema, something about a thug who meets a prostitute. That same year also saw the release of avant-garde filmmaker John Abraham’s Agraharathil Kazhudhai. So you could say there was something in the air.
Still, Aval Appadithan was different. The shadowy black-and-white cinematography was different. The dialogues, which were more about revealing character than advancing plot, were different. The frank handling of sex and profanity (“she is a self-pitying, sex-starved bitch!”) was different. The documentary-like detours were different. The painfully sensitive, feminist hero was different. Rudraiah was different. If nothing else, no Tamil film, before or since, has had the hero and heroine kissing in the loo, right next to the flush toilet. K Hariharan, the filmmaker and a close friend of Rudraiah, told me, “He was very radical. His thinking was very [French] New Wave – he was a big fan of Godard. Like Godard, he was into anti-narrative cinema, without traditional beginnings and ends. He wanted to change the conventions of cinema.”
The director (seated behind the camera) during the shooting of ‘Gramathu Athiyayam’
Seen from today’s vantage, then, it’s not surprising at all that someone like Rudraiah had such an abbreviated (one might even say aborted) career – he made just one other film, Gramathu Athiyayam, which was released in 1980. That same year, Rajinkanth became a superstar with the release of Murattu Kaalai, and two years later, with Sakalakalavallavan, Kamal Haasan was officially launched into the stratosphere. It wouldn’t be feasible for these stars to do small films again, especially if the director wanted things that the box office did not want. Hariharan pointed to Mani Ratnam, too, as a “major game changer.” He said, “His was a consumerist kind of cinema. He looked at frames as commodities in themselves. And this was anathema to Rudraiah, whose cinema was a pure, radical, anarchic world that could not be seen subscribing to anything called ‘standard culture’. Between the native folk art of Murattu Kaalai and Sakalakalavallavan and the urban city art of Mani Ratnam, Rudraiah lost out.”
But not for lack of trying. Among the people I spoke to was S Arunmozhi, who was one of Rudraiah’s associates on Aval Appadithan and Gramathu Athiyayam, and a director in his own right. (He made films like Kaani Nilam.) Arunmozhi, actually, was more than just a professional cohort. He spoke of the “ashram”-like atmosphere in Rudraiah’s Kumar Arts office at Raja Annamalaipuram, where, between 1978 and ’86, many like-minded and creatively inclined individuals used to gather. He spoke of a library there that housed Tamil translations of Jnanpith Award-winning novels, along with the scripts of Buñuel’s The Exterminating Angel and Polanski’s Cul-de-sac. Arunmozhi met Rudraiah at the Film Institute – the story of Rudraiah, then, is also a chronicle of people who’ve been trained to look at cinema purely as art, and what happens when they step into the Tamil film industry, which is among the country’s most commercial – and assisted him in his diploma film based on the Jayakanthan short story Siluvai, which is about a nun’s struggles with celibacy. The script was not approved by the HOD, who was Christian, but somehow the film was made and it impressed the examiner, K Balachander, so much that he awarded Rudraiah a gold medal. (At least this part, to some of us, isn’t very surprising. A nun’s struggles with celibacy? How could this story not end up fascinating KB?)
Arunmozhi told me about the other films, the could-have-beens, and though he wasn’t exactly clear about the dates, the chronology, it’s at least instructive to see that even when he was not making cinema, Rudraiah was thinking, constantly, about making cinema. In the 1982 timeframe, give or take a few months or years, there was Raja Ennai Mannithuvidu, with Kamal Haasan playing younger brother to Chandra Haasan. Sujatha was cast as the latter’s wife and Sumalatha was to play Kamal’s heroine. The story dealt with the conflict between the peacenik older brother and the Naxal leanings of the Kamal character. The film was shot simultaneously in Telugu – it was to be a bilingual; Rudraiah’s mother tongue was Telugu – and one of the locations was the set that served as the blind protagonist’s house in Rajapaarvai. Shooting went on for about 15 days, and the film was about 40% was complete (“Those days, you shot very quickly,” Arunmozhi said) when things ground to a halt. Hariharan told me that one of the reasons was probably that Kamal Haasan, at the time, was advised by SP Muthuraman – who had always been a sounding board, since the days of Kalathur Kannamma, on which SPM worked as an assistant director – to change tracks, to make more mainstream movies and not keep making films like Moondram Pirai (released in February 1982). The result of this advice was, of course, the as-mainstream-as-mainstream-can-be Sakalakalavallavan (released in August 1982). So Raja Ennai Mannithuvidu possibly collapsed under the pull of a big star, on one side, and, on the other, a director who worshipped Godard. A couple of songs that Ilayaraja had composed for the film – including Ponvaanile ezhil venmegame – ended up in a 1985 Manivannan flop named Anbin Mugavari.
But Kamal Haasan remained a well-wisher, and he tried to put together a project – this was sometime after Moondram Pirai – that Rudraiah would produce and Balu Mahendra would direct. “But Rudraiah, at that point, wanted complete control over a project,” said Arunmozhi. “He wanted to produce the project. He wanted to direct the project.” But after a point, things came to a halt – and these words will be seen a lot over the next few paragraphs.
There was something called Unmayai Thedi, which was announced in the papers with an ad – but after a point, things came to a halt. Then, around 1988, there was something called TXT7, a road movie inspired by Taxi Driver. (Arunmozhi’s synopsis: “The taxi driver is a good man and society makes him a criminal.) This was to have L Vaidyanathan’s music. Raghuvaran was to be the hero. The story was by the writer Sujatha, who wrote the lyrics for a song as well. Two songs were recorded. But after a point, probably due to a financial problem, things came to a halt.
From some accounts, though, Rudraiah doesn’t seem to have been all that averse to merely producing a movie – and there are projects he floated where his role was just that. Among the more interesting-sounding of these projects is Bhishmar, which would tell a story of the legendary figure incorporating portions from myth as well as the modern day. Rudraiah was to produce, with his Film Institute classmate Kothandaraman providing the finances, and ‘Billa’ Krishnamurthy was to direct. Sivaji Ganesan was to play the leading role, and as a story goes, he landed up on the sets at 5 am, waited till 8:30 am, grumbled about the “lack of planning” by these “new Film Institute boys,” and left. When I asked Kothandaraman about the film, he said that he had distributed two hits from April 1984, Thambikku Endha Ooru and Vaazhkai – and the latter had propped up Sivaji Ganesan’s sagging market. When his classmate came by and spoke about his non-happening career, he decided to help. Vaazhkai had made him a familiar face in the Sivaji Ganesan camp, and he went along with Rudraiah to give the actor an advance for Bhishmar. But after a point, things came to a halt.
The director (in a dhoti) during the shooting of ‘Gramathu Athiyayam’
Why did Rudraiah begin to toy with the idea of producing? Arunmozhi told me the story of how he, along with a few other technicians who were supposed to work on Raja Ennai Mannithuvidu, resigned their jobs at Doordarshan, New Delhi, when the film was announced because they couldn’t be shuttling back and forth. “We resigned a government job,” Arunmozhi said, and when the film never really took off after that, Rudraiah probably felt guilty. Turning producer for films made by other directors was possibly a way to help out the disciples from his “ashram.”
Around the late 1980s, Rudraiah decided that he would direct films for other producers – some people might describe this as climbing down from a rather high horse – and in the 1990-91 timeframe, he began work on Kadalpurathil…, which was based on the novel of same name by Vannanilavan, who co-wrote Aval Appadithan (with Somasundareshwar and Rudraiah). It was a tragic love story set in a seaside village, and Archana was supposed to play the lead. After a couple of weeks of shooting, the producer decided to make it a telefilm, and he changed the heroine as well as the director. Kadalpurathil… ended up being telecast on Doordarshan.
Then there was this film whose story was written by Somasundareshwar. PC Sreeram remembers listening to Somasundareshwar’s narration, and being impressed by “this intense love story. It was wild and weird, and still made a lot of sense.” Arunmozhi remembers this film as a modern version of Romeo and Juliet (that, in fact, was the film’s name), to be made with Somasundareshwar’s son as hero. Sreeram was to do the cinematography. AR Rahman was to do the music. “This was supposed to bring Rudraiah back as a director,” Arunmozhi said. But after a point, things came to a halt.
Even during the director’s last days, he was planning a film – it was called Gautam, and the hero would play a triple role, a father and his two sons. The film was to be shot in London and Colombo, and the German filmmaker Martin Repka (whose 2007 film Return of the Storks was Slovakia’s official entry for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars) was roped in for discussions. But after a point, things came to a halt. There could have been other projects too, Arunmozhi said, and he didn’t know about them because, for a while after 1986, he wasn’t in regular contact with Rudraiah, at least not as much as in the “ashram” days. If some of these projects appear to be overly big in scope, especially considering the filmmaker’s modest (and modestly budgeted) résumé, they seem in line with Rudraiah’s thinking, which was always big. “He’d travel by car, never by auto,” Arunmozhi said. The economic losses from the shelved films didn’t cramp Rudraiah’s style. His wife was employed as a teacher, and there were friends who lent him money. After his divorce, he moved into a Single Person’s Quarter in Royapettah, but he kept wanting to move out. “Even during his last days,” Arunmozhi said, “he was looking at houses that cost something like Rs. 60,000 per month.” And this is a man who hadn’t made a movie in over 30 years.
It’s common for a project or two to get dropped in the course of a filmmaker’s lifetime, but in Rudraiah’s case, it comes off like something chronic – almost as if he couldn’t bear to go ahead with the ideas he had in mind. One of the reasons for the stalling of Rudraiah’s career, Arunmozhi said, was that it was too late by the time he began to consider making films for other producers. The man was also a Marxist, a follower of the French philosopher Louis Althusser, which may mean nothing until you begin to consider the unapologetically capitalistic and class-filled nature of the commercial film industry. (Titbit: Rudraiah’s elder brother Gurulingam considered himself a ‘Marxist Leninist’, and it was this dynamic, reversed, that worked its way into the relationship of the siblings in Raja Ennai Mannithuvidu.) In his last days, though, there appears to have been some disillusionment with the people he put his faith in. When Rudraiah was undergoing treatment for the cancer that finally consumed him, he noticed that most of the patients in the adjacent beds were from Kolkata. “What good is a Marxist party if it cannot build even one good hospital?” he told Gurulingam.
Kothandaraman said that Rudraiah was too sensitive, that he used to take things very personally, that he had “too much self-respect” to function in the film industry, where a bit of boot-licking is the norm. Hariharan said that Rudraiah was a private man who would frequently retreat into a shell. He wouldn’t circulate and meet others. “He was a villager at heart. The three years at the Film Institute changed him. Had he been persistent, he could have been the mascot of a new wave, but he gave up.” But more than anything, it was perhaps the cult success of his first film that left Rudraiah paralysed. “He was frozen with Aval Appadithan,” Hariharan said. “Everyone kept praising the film, and it took years for him to come out of its shadow. And he was not flexible. I said I’d take him to Doordarshan, where he could make a meaningful documentary or some sort of semi-fiction. I was doing TV then. Saeed Mirza and Govind Nihalani were doing TV then. But he said no. For him, that was a big compromise. I used to tell him that the best way to describe him was ‘Avan Appadithan’. He would laugh.” And later, he probably started losing confidence. “I met him last in the mid-1990s. He had forgotten what it was like to make a film. Aval Appadithan was so far back in the past.”
Arunmozhi told me that Rudraiah’s fondness for Kamal Haasan was really why nothing ever happened. “Kamal was intelligent, talented, and he knew so much about world cinema. They were on the same wavelength. Rudraiah always appreciated him and admired him. In fact, I would say he was addicted to him. He wouldn’t settle for less. He could have tried to do something with Rajinikanth as well. Rajini helped him too. He didn’t take any money for Aval Appadithan. But Rudraiah wanted only Kamal. It was like an ‘oru thalai kaadhal’.” This revelation lends another layer to Aval Appadithan, where Kamal Haasan plays an uncompromising, non-commercial filmmaker and can be seen as Rudraiah’s alter ego. In the opening credits sequence, Arun (the Kamal character) – rather his voice, given that we just hear him over a black screen – tells an associate that nothing can be done if “villagers” don’t understand this film, and we hear many other thoughts along these lines, all overlapping, like voices inside the head, until Arun shouts “Silence,” like a director would. Consider these other scenes too. The scene where Arun looks at the audience (us) and says, “Konjam left-la thalli irukkanum,” which Kamal Haasan recently revealed was an injunction for the audience to have leftist (or in Rudraiah’s case, Marxist) leanings; the scene where Manju (Sripriya) enters Arun’s home and finds a huge poster of Mamayev Mound, the statue commemorating the Battle of Stalingrad (speaking of Russia, Arunmozhi told me that The Brothers Karamazov was one of Rudraiah’s favourite books); the scene where Manju asks if there’s lots of money in cinema, and Arun replies, “Adhu mattum ennoda nokkam illai”; the scene where Arun tells someone that he’s going to interview S Janaki and she asks if it’s the Janaki who sang Machaana paatheengala and he says he only knows the Janaki who sang Singaravelane; the scene where a big-name actress says she has no dates to spare for the production company named ‘Kumar Arts’… These appear, today, to be as much about Arun as Rudraiah. Even the character of Manju was based on a woman Rudraiah knew. I asked Arunmozhi if Rudraiah, like Arun, was a bidi smoker. He laughed, and reminded me that Rudraiah liked to live life Kings size. “Even if he had to borrow money, he’d smoke a 555 or a Dunhill.”
The only other actor Rudraiah was interested in was Raghuvaran, whom he had seen in Hariharan’s Ezhavadhu Manidhan. “He considered Raghuvaran an actor of some capability,” Hariharan said. “They shared a similar wavelength.” But then Raghuvaran turned to villainous roles in films like Mr. Bharath, and he acted in a 1987 potboiler called Michael Raj, which became a hit. And Rudraiah lost interest. He dropped Raghuvaran and went back to casting, in his head, Kamal Haasan in his various could-have-been films – like Gautam, or much earlier, an adaptation of Amma Vandhaal, Thi. Janakiraman’s story of a Brahmin boy who discovers that his mother is having an affair. But would such a busy star be able to shave his head and sport a tuft for the duration of the shoot? The question, now, is moot. As always, after a point, things came to a halt.
The only film that fructified after Aval Appadithan, then, was Gramathu Athiyayam, which Arunmozhi said was an attempt to transpose Anna Karenina (another Russian connection!) to a village – but the film, today, apart from the outstanding Ilayaraja songs, looks like a fairly undistinguished love triangle between a man (named Thangavelu), his sullen wife (named Bhavani), and her former lover (named Arun, like the Kamal Haasan character in Aval Appadithan). To Rudraiah’s credit, his film was probably the first to explore this dynamic, which would be seen later that year in Mahendran’s Nenjathai Killadhey, and the next year in K Bhagyaraj’s Andha 7 Naatkal – and it’s interesting that the woman, who is confused about her feelings for both men, doesn’t choose who she ends up with; the end is more the result of a deus ex machina. And there are touches that remind us of the filmmaker Rudraiah wanted to be. After Bhavani’s father arranges her marriage with Thangavelu, she attempts suicide by jumping into a pond. Arun sees this and jumps in after her. And the frame freezes. We don’t see them thrashing about in water, we don’t see the rescue – instead, we cut to the characters sitting by the banks and talking. Only, they don’t move their lips. It’s some sort of Bressonian alienation thing, which is amplified by the affectless acting of newcomers Krishnaveni and Nandakumar.
Alas, this is a charitable way of looking at these performances – and most audiences just saw this as bad acting. (Saritha, who played a small role in Aval Appadithan, was supposed to play Bhavani. She even did a photo shoot, in costume, but finally the dates did not work out.) Arunmozhi told me that Krishnaveni was fairly exposed to world cinema, and that she responded well to Rudraiah’s direction. Unlike other directors of the time, most famously Bharathiraja, Rudraiah wouldn’t act out a scene and tell performers what he wanted. He’d get them into the mood by talking to them about the character’s backstory and mental state and how all this informed the situation currently being filmed. “The cameraman always had to be alert,” Arunmozhi said. “Rudraiah didn’t like to hear excuses like ‘the lighting is not yet done’, and he didn’t give much time to the technicians. He wanted them to be ready when the artists were ready. He was always thinking about the actors.”
According to Hariharan, the film’s problems rose from the cast. Rudraiah signed director Jayabharathi (who’d made Kudisai) to play Arun. (The prospect of hiring a star never arose because Arun is a weak-willed character, the kind of man who’d give up his love because he doesn’t have the courage to talk to his domineering father. Then, as now, the character would be seen as lacking “heroism.”) But after a few days of shooting, Jayabharathi was replaced with Nandakumar, who had joined Rudraiah’s unit as assistant director. “Maybe this was Rudraiah’s way of letting people know that he could make anybody act,” Hariharan said. Eventually, Rudraiah must have realised he wasn’t making the movie he wanted to make. Later, whenever Hariharan would bring up the film, he’d say, “Andha padatha pathi pesa vendaam. Let’s talk about the next film.” Arunmozhi said that part of the problem could have also been that Ananthu, who was the screenwriter, was in Visakhapatnam, with K Balachander’s unit, shooting Ek Duuje Ke Liye, and he couldn’t be present to make changes to the script. These were finally done over the phone, which made it impossible to have the kind of back-and-forth discussion that’s possible when two people are locked in a room, arguing animatedly, feeding off each other’s energy and ironing things out. Arunmozhi later told Rudraiah that he should have postponed the shoot until Ananthu was available on the sets. I asked him if he, too, thought that the casting caused problems. He said, “Had the film worked, no one would have said anything. Because it didn’t, we try to find excuses.”
Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here. Copyright ©2014 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Sanjay Kumar K
November 28, 2014
Awesome insight about a man that people know very little about…tried to get more info about this man, but the wiki was the only one which talked about him, which was woefully short for a person who wants to more about him…in a way he was a loser and a romantic who never survived his success!
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Manithan
November 28, 2014
Wow !!!
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neena
November 28, 2014
Watching the ‘Aval Appadithaan’ scene posted above, I wondered about the biases of even a ‘progressive’ or Marxist filmmaker. That Rajini was a more obvious choice for a misogynist, crass character and often, in other films, a villain, and Kamal for a sophisticated, if rebellious or radical, hero – does it reflect directly on casting bias in terms of skin colour or social background of the actors? It is another matter that misogyny came to define the mass hero masculinity and that Rajini films have since consistently turned the table with the fair skinned, rich guy (usually played by Sarath Babu) being the villain.
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Gnani
November 28, 2014
First honest and near the truth write up on rudhrayya.
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Ravi K
November 29, 2014
Great write-up. I find these misfit filmmakers quite fascinating. In a rather crass and commercial industry, the fact that that someone like Rudraiah even got to make one film (that too with Kamal and Rajini right before they hit it big) is something of a miracle.
Unfortunately these guys who want to push Indian cinema’s boundaries, when it comes to stories and characters that aren’t easily digested, haven’t lasted long in the industry, with perhaps the exception of K. Balachander. I really do feel for the Indian filmmakers who watch uncompromised, boundary-pushing world cinema and hope to replicate it in their mother tongues, knowing that their films won’t find any takers, especially since the international distribution for Indian art films is nothing like that for French, German, etc. art films.
Just as interesting as the story of “Aval Appadithan” and Rudraiah himself is the idea that something special and offbeat in Kamal and Rajini was lost forever to their superstardom. In Kamal moreso than Rajini at least we saw traces of that in the films he did make.
Hopefully a budding Rudraiah today will grab a DSLR and make something raw and artistic, without trying to make a calling card for a career in the Kollywood machine.
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Bayta
November 29, 2014
Second everything Sanjay said. And this coming from someone who lived in a flat below him, played with his kids and went to the school his wife taught at. All we knew then about him was that he was a failed director and a sullen man who kept to himself when he was at home, which was very seldom from what I remember. It was only much later that I watched Aval Appadithan and was blown away by it. Really wish I’d gotten to know the man better when I sort of had a chance. Glad to finally have the chance to learn about his story through this wonderful piece.
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Roquentin
November 29, 2014
Depressing.I feel Kamal Hassan let him down.Raja Ennai Mannithuvidu should have been completed.
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brangan
November 29, 2014
neena: Have you seen “Bhuvana Oru Kelvikkuri”? Interesting casting there, with Rajinikanth as a good guy and Sivakumar (of all people) as some sort of villain.
Ravi K: Unfortunately these guys… haven’t lasted long in the industry
See, this is not really surprising. Unlike France, say, we don’t have a state-subsidised filmmaking industry. Or consider Hollywood. There you still have some kind of studio system (even if the studios, today, mostly only distribute films, rather than finance them). So for every blockbuster like “Avengers,” they can afford to throw some of the money in the way of an idiosyncratic director — because even if they lose money, there’s still the possibility of an Oscar or something, the possibility of prestige.
Here, every film is a do-or-die situation for the individual producer. And there is no prestige compensation either. So a filmmaker like Rudraiah, who wants to apply Godardian techniques to a very commercial film industry, is sort of doomed from the get-go.
Remember what Kamal said in my interview here?
I asked Kamal Haasan to point out some of the “stuff” he’d picked up from these [foreign] films. He thought for a while and mentioned the tracking shots in the early portions of Guna. He said he was a great fan of Max Ophüls, the legendary German filmmaker who made The Earrings of Madame de… and who was known for complex tracking shots. Then he smiled and said, “We can use these ideas, at most, in a scene or two. Our films can’t take much more. If you bring these ideas in wholesale, then you’ll become like John Abraham, who was ostracised and kept outside the commercial sector.” He was referring to the Malayalam filmmaker known for avant-garde works like Agraharathil Kazhuthai and Amma Ariyan. “That’s a good thing actually, that’s a great state to be in. But it’s a rather lonely and dire state for a filmmaker.”
About this point: something special and offbeat in Kamal and Rajini was lost forever to their superstardom
At least with Kamal, I think “Sakalakalavallavan” was a great move. It finally got him the A-B-C-centre blockbuster clout that helped him make the kind of movies he later wanted to make — and he COULD NOT have made those movies without the kind of stardom that “Sakalakalavallavan” and “Thoongathey Thambi Thoongathey” gave him.
I mean, you may like the films he makes now. You may dislike them. The fact remains is that he is able to do these relatively offbeat films, filled with ideas, in a very commercial film industry. He couldn’t do this if he hadn’t achieved that stardom.
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Madan
November 29, 2014
Wow, this is just hardcore journalism in the sense of how informative it was. I truly would have never known there was such an interesting backstory to the director of Aval Appadithan if I had not read this article.
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venkatesh
November 29, 2014
BR : Take a bow sir – great great piece of journalism.
I might get ostracised on this blog here but i don’t see what the big deal about “Aval appadithaan” was….. possibly because i am seeing it from a twice removed perspective.
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damilan
November 29, 2014
Thank you, BR. What a comprehensive piece. This is the best tribute I’ve seen anyone give to Rudriah.
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vijay
November 30, 2014
Kudos baddy! but the problem with a tribute becomes the story of a forgotten failed marauder of tamil cinema! It is an irony that it takes so much time for a director to break and make his first film in the industry and then the rest becomes history when he is put on a pedestal with a path breaker like aval appadithan! but then the sad cue with Rudraiah is the opposity , with his failed “pet projects” complicated by his uncompromising (leftist stature)! maybe its coincidence that I see a repeat of this , with the guy who made tamil cinema’s first neo noir film called “aaranya gaandam”
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Suresh-ET
November 30, 2014
Many people have been writing about Rudraiah since his death, mostly from those who seem to have an immense appreciation for Aval Appadithan (and disappointment that he didn’t more such films) and those who knew him personally.
Now, as for this author, we don’t know exactly what his intentions are. Except for some passing mentions of the film and Rudraiah himself in the past, he hasn’t expressed any particular liking for either in great detail. And that’s why this write-up comes across as a hatchet job than anything else (oh please, this has nothing to do with ‘journalism’).
“The brutal industry and the flawed man” seems to be the narrative this author wanted to weave and he’s pulled in just enough quotes from a handful of fellow has-beens to serve that purpose. It’s amazing how he does not implicate the great Kamal Haasan in being a part of that machinery that ground Rudraiah (and the likes) to a halt every time he took a few steps. See, Kamal isn’t obliged to fund Rudraiah or anyone, but he cannot skirt his own role in it by blaming the ‘industry’. He is the industry – hypocritical, self-aggrandizing and goodwill posturing. Exactly what has Raaj Kamal Films International – a product of all his oh-so-painful compromises – produced so far? Artsy, avant garde stuff? Revolutionary politics? Fuck, no!
May be Rudraiah had seriously misplaced expectations but what about Hariharan? For all his supposed insights, forethought and adaptability, what has he done since Ezhavathu Manithan? (Let’s leave aside the fact that very few have any recollection of any scene from that film.) What happened to Sridhar Rajan who made Kan Sivanthal Man Sivakkum? Where do we place them?
If you pause for a moment you’ll realize that Rudraiah’s failures have nothing to do with his purported illusions of grandeur or his stubbornness; the industry is replete with such characters on both sides of the aisle – right-left, artistic-commercial etc. It has more to do with those who willfully sabotaged his projects (Balachander not being the least of them – this is the same man who screwed a small town writer whose novel inspired Varumayin Niram Sigappu). Of course, the notion would be dismissed as hearsay here. Dare we not question the integrity of the demi-gods.
One need only hear Arun Mozhi’s own views on this esteemed ‘ulaga naayagan’ in a gathering in L V Prasad to put this whole thing — the article, the people (the author, lately, being one of them), the industry – in its fucked up context (the footage will be out before the end of this year).
I had no intention of engaging with this author here (still don’t), but there’s no better space to counter this ‘journalistic’ gem.
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Ram Murali
November 30, 2014
Really nice and comprehensive write-up on a maverick filmmaker…that line that you quoted (“self-pitying…”) was actually the line that stunned me the first time I watched it, esp. since it was uttered by Rajni. I was also shocked by Srividya’s comment on Sivachandran – “thangaiyaam? enna thev— nu sonna kooda I wouldn’t have bothered.”
He may have survived in these times when movie making has become far less expensive…if he had the backing of major stars or juggernauts like “Studio Green” he might have well had a longer career…
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sai16vicky
November 30, 2014
“Aval Appadithan” gives me goosebumps every time I watch it. Some of the conversations/dialogues I remember – “At least unga vettu pengalayavadhu seerazhiyaama paathukonga”, “Naan penmanigala pathi therinjakanum? Penna pathiya, maniya(read money) pathiya” and “You are a prejudiced ass. Yes, I am male ass”.
And Rangan, you forgot the climax gem –
Sripriya – “What do you know about Women empowerment?”
Saritha – “Enakku adha pathi edhuvum theriyadhe”
Sripriya – “Adhunaala dhaan neenga sandhoshama irukeenga”
(Bravo!)
I remember while writing about “Soodhu Kavvum”, you had mentioned about how passionate the makers/technicians were. The same applies to AA as well. The passion and energy of the makers is evident in each frame of the movie. This movie increased the respect and admiration I had for KB. If a man who is supported by KB’s assistant can make this movie, what was KB in this 70s? – A simmasoppanam sort of a being?
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brangan
December 1, 2014
venkatesh: As I’ve said earlier, it’s more useful to see these films as interesting films rather than as flat-out, flawless masterpieces.
I love the film, but it does seem to have problematic areas — the biggest problem being the way Sripriya’s backstory is narrated to us. She just calls Kamal in the middle of the night and starts spilling stuff about her mother. I wonder if this isn’t too sudden for someone who is SO guarded, and especially with men.
And yet, this narrative decision allows for a beautifully dispersed backstory — as in, instead of WAITING to get totally comfortable with Kamal and THEN telling him the whole backstory at one shot (which would make it a rather conventional flashback block), when now have the backstory weaving in and out of the Kamal-Sripriya conversations. And that’s the way it would happen in life — we tell our friends things as and when we remember those things, or as and when the circumstances arise.
As I said, really interesting film. Whether it’s a masterpiece or not is quite irrelevant to me — the film being interesting is really all that I care about.
sai16vicky: Ananthu was more than an “assistant.” Ask the people in the industry, and you’ll hear stories about how he was really KB’s backbone, and how his death made KB a radically diminished filmmaker.
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Rohan Nair
December 1, 2014
Suresh-ET: I enjoyed your contrarian post. I cannot comment about most of it but your point about Kamal Haasan, “He *is* the industry… Exactly what has Raaj Kamal Films International produced so far?” is certainly food for thought. To think that he reserved his production house for films he wanted to make and act in himself, rather than provide succour to some of the seemingly-many art-minded colleagues in the industry that he cared so much about… hmm.
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Rohan Nair
December 1, 2014
Rangan mentions this as an aside: “Kadalpurathil ended up being telecast on Doordarshan”.
What happened to it? Is there a surviving copy?
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neena
December 1, 2014
Haven’t watched Bhuvana Oru Kelvikuri, added it to the loooong list of movies that I must try to watch at some point of time…
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Ram Murali
December 2, 2014
I have also heard from my Aunt who’s a subtitlist that Ananthu’s demise had a huge impact on the quality of KB’s films. I honestly am not so sure about that. Ananthu passed away in late ’97. KB has made just two films after that – Paarthaale Paravasam and Poi…
maybe my Aunt (as with some of the other industry folks that you were referring to) are talking about the quality of his TV serials…
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Rahini David
December 2, 2014
BR: I loved this piece. It is the best I have read in recent times. But there is one thing I often wonder about when I read these pieces. Why do papers wait until a person’s death to discuss their career.
Wouldn’t it be greater if these pieces came out during the directors milestone birthday or the debut movie’s milestone year? Maybe an article as thorough as this one would be difficult, but surely a more sweetened version?
I heard a Barathiraja Interview in FM Radio where the RJ spoke for 4 mins and Barathiraja for 1 minute and a random song from some newly released movie was played for 5 minutes and then the ads. It is a 30 min program.
I am sure these directors need better tributes and they need to happen when they are alive.
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brangan
December 2, 2014
Rahini David: I guess it has to do with the fact that out of sight, sometimes, becomes out of mind. And an occasion is needed, sometimes, to bring a person back into “sight” — maybe an anniversary, maybe a demise.
I interviewed K Balachander long after his prime, and that piece, in part, was instigated by my editor at that time. Sometimes, that helps too, when someone says, “Hey, why don’t you do a piece with so-and-so…?”
With Rudraiah, it’s a strange case. I met his daughter a few years ago when she wanted to sound me out about something. I asked her if he’d be willing to sit for an interview — again, the man came into “sight” because of an occasion, my meeting his daughter — and she wasn’t forthcoming. I kept sending the occasional feeler afterwards to Arunmozhi but nothing worked out.
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brangan
December 2, 2014
Rohan Nair: …rather than provide succour to some of the seemingly-many art-minded colleagues…
Sir, this is not charity. This is a business. A very, very expensive business.
And IMO, Kamal’s way of operating in this business is to do a certain type of film so that he can raise money for the films he really wants to make. When it’s so difficult for him to make his own films, how can he be held culpable for not “providing succour” to art-minded colleagues?
Forget films. Take the publishing industry. You think any publisher — in this increasingly expensive and competitive marketplace — is going to “provide succour” to an author who kinda-sorta wrote one cult-ish book and then withdrew?
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sachita
December 3, 2014
Brangan,
I had exactly the same thought as I read through some comments talking about how the industry/kamal never supported some people’s artistic adventures.
These comments riled me up, what is the expectation here? that people should just throw money into some one else’s artistic vision knowing there is quite a chance that it wont come back?
The only people who can do that or either ambani’s/ corrupt politicians with a lot of money to spare.
Agree with you on Kamal completely. He has handled this aspect commendably well and thanks to that we got to view awesome movies like hey ram!
Somehow never remember you talking about money aspect of movie making, the kamal fan in you brought that comment out?
On the movie itself, I have had a hard time relating to this sort angst film with its need of a pre-determined sad ending. I can to an extent understand the angst, our generation of girls/women definitely has it easier than those it terms of freedom( lot more to go)
But the sort of ending is a cliche.
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brangan
December 3, 2014
sachita: No, it’s not just this instance. I hear this all the time, this “romanticisation” of working relationships. Like with Ilayaraja — how he gave phenomenal music to all these directors and how they “ditched” him for Rahman or Vidyasagar or Ghibran or whoever.
It is no crime to say, “Hey, I feel like a change. Let me work with someone different and see what happens.” I’m not talking just about Raja but about all kinds of collaborators.
According to me, Kamal remembering and talking fondly about Rudraiah is something like what we do as well. We are all fond of our college mates, with whom we practically lived 24×7. And then we drift away. With some, we keep in touch. Others drop out of sight, and we get on with our lives.
It is possible to feel genuine joy and nostalgia and good vibes and sorrow (in the case of a death) with someone who was off your radar for years. We are mostly in touch with the people who are around us. Family. Colleagues. The rest we remember and celebrate when they drop in from the US after 20 years, or when we run into them by accident, or when they die and we get news… It’s just life.
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Rahini David
December 3, 2014
There he goes again with the “According to me” thingie. 😀
BR: You often claim to think in English. But you seem to prefer “According to me” to “In my opinion” . because you may prefer “Ennaporuthavaraikkum” to “En Karuthupadi” in Tamil (as you well should).
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Madan
December 3, 2014
Apart from what BRangan already wrote, I’d like to add that actually what Kamal did and the choices he made are not at all out of the norm. It’s what a lot of actors who are ambitious and seek good roles but are also mindful of the commercial realities do. Martin Sheen told HT in a recent interview unabashedly that he did many roles for the financial gains, in films which he was glad his grandchild wasn’t going to remember he was in. While at the same time he was proud of the fact that he got to play iconic roles like the one in Wall Street. Kamal is at least gracious enough not to thrash those commercial films that brought him fame and paved the way for films like Hey Ram. Alec Guinness wasn’t so kind about Star Wars even though he did concede the money earned from it allowed him to take up roles he really wanted to act.
Aside from all that, actors are not angels. They are also ordinary people, just that they acquired or were endowed with great acting ability. So they can and often do make selfish choices as Kamal must have too. Very nice and dandy to sit in the armchair and judge but I am sure a lot of those critics wouldn’t have chosen differently in his place.
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Rohan Nair
December 4, 2014
Rangan sir: My point about Kamal Haasan’s production house not supporting other people’s films was made – at least in part – thinking of all the recent actors and directors who, once they have made a name for themselves in being able to make a certain ‘kind’ of film, start backing others who they think can make such films. Aamir Khan comes to mind instantly. So does Anurag Kashyap. Even Anand Gandhi (from whatever I have heard of his doings post-Theseus).
I don’t think any of the above men are “doing charity” as you seem to suggest. They are canny operators – at least Kashyap and Aamir Khan who have been around a few years. In the North Aamir Khan’s trajectory and pursuit of “middle cinema” comes closest to what Kamal Haasan has been doing in Tamil Nadu. They are both survivors. Yet at some point Aamir Khan branched off into giving quiet non-commercial films a fair chance – at least a few scripts that he liked. I have not studied his production house’s financial statements (nor have I studied Raaj Kamal Films’s), but whatever the hit/miss rate at least he is doing something. You may argue that “Bombay works differently from Madras” and so forth but the fact still remains that for all his idealistic bombast about “I want to take people in that direction” when you ask Kamal about art cinema and the like, he hasn’t taken those few steps in this direction that Aamir has. Yes it is his own money and he can do what he wants with it. But the budget of any one of this man’s films (in the last decade plus) would finance five or more small artistic films of the sort that Aval Appadi Thaan was.
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Iswarya
December 4, 2014
Rahini: You took the words out of my mouth, I swear. This time around, I was really thinking, “Ah.. There he goes again, agreeing with himself.. Maybe he feels so strongly on this subject that he seeks an additional voice of support from himself. Or whatever..”
That “Ennai porutha varaikkum” actually nails it. But long since I saw this expression in print and have (awful to admit) grown unsure about whether the spelling goes like “poRuthu” (in the sense of patience, bearing with) or “poruthu” (in the sense of fit, gelling in). Isn’t it the latter? That would have a word level equivalence with the English version.
(“Poruthu” > “porundhu” > to fit in > to accord with)
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brangan
December 4, 2014
Rahini David / Iswarya: LOL. Thanks to you guys, I’ve been outed as a Tamilian masquerading as a Peter 😀
I should have a rap-that-knuckle app every time I reach for “according to me” 🙂
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brangan
December 4, 2014
Rohan Nair: You may argue that “Bombay works differently from Madras” and so forth
Of course I’m going to argue that Bombay is different from Madras 🙂
The day Tamil films have a market in the metros all over India, the day we are allowed to hike up ticket prices in theatres (it’s 120 bucks max, and that too, only in Chennai), the day the rates for non-star-value satellite TV rights pick up, the day national media hypes up small Tamil films (and therefore creates some sort of ‘market’ for these films, which helps international sales as well) — that is the day we can haul up people like Kamal and ask him why he isn’t doing what Aamir is doing 🙂
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Gradwolf
December 4, 2014
Wait. Is Aamir really doing that? Apart from Peepli Live and Dhobi Ghat (not counted or is it?) none of the films produced by him are what can be termed “indie” films can they? All other films have had stars, established writers/directors or both. He can’t even be compared to Kashyap, let alone Kamal. He still has to do a Ghajini and Dhoom 3 even in the more transparent Hindi industry. (Full disclaimer: Frankly Aamir Khan comes across way overrated to me. I’ve liked a lot of his post Lagaan films and film choices but sometimes I feel the intelligent or thinking man’s actor/producer tag is overdone). A good comparison would probably be Yashraj Productions or UTV that produce and introduce filmmakers of every level. And a production house like that in Tamil is still a long way away.
If I have a problem with Kamal, it is not that he is financially helping out these up and comers. I wish he would talk more about some of the great work that these new age directors in Tamil have done. From Aaranya Kandam to Aadukalam to Jigarthanda to Madras. But I understand that this wish is more of my problem than Kamal’s. It’s like people here asking Baradwaj, “Why did you not mention so and so’s acting performance/background score etc?” 😀
Also the new thing he’s started called Kamal’s Vaai Mozhi is interesting. The Nasser, Ghibran and Ramesh Aravind questions and answers were quite good. And so far he hasn’t given confusing digressive answers. (RC Sakthi actually tells him kuzhappama badhil sollanum in his episode..LOL)
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Madan
December 4, 2014
Even when Bolly went to the dogs in the 80s (least wise, that’s how the critics and even filmmakers have it), the parallel cinema wave flourished. Even in the 90s, even before the advent of multiplexes, you had films like Satya (which was a surprise hit). Bolly caters to a much larger audience with a more mixed demographic, so there’s simply no comparison with Kolly. Even if formula potboilers still hit gold at the BO in Bolly, offbeat films still do well and approach or even exceed the 100 cr mark.
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damilan
December 4, 2014
If Kamal thinks of movie making as a business, why does he keep saying he lives & breathes cinema in all his interviews? He has so much respect (according to him) for his mentors that he never fails to praise TKS, KB, IR, among many others every chance he gets. Who has he mentored now that he’s famous? Ramesh Aravind comes to mind, but that’s it.
This isn’t too much to expect from an Ulaganayagan, is it?
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Rohan Nair
December 4, 2014
Rangan (and others) who suggest that “Tamil cinema is a long way away” : Tamil cinema has made lots of progress in recent years (just like Hindi we too had a post-KB post-80s dry period). So much that an Anurag Kashyap, accurately or not, goes on record to say that “Tamil cinemagoers are the most evolved in the country”. Aaranya Kaandam, Pizza, Mysskin’s films, the list goes on. Or perhaps an Aadhalal Kadhal Seiveer is a better example (my opinion) because it is a quieter film with no pyrotechnics. Perhaps none of these are as offbeat or small-budget or as austere as Aval Appadidhaan. Still the ballpark examples do exist in today’s Tamil cinema. In spite of the Rs.120 ceiling on ticket prices and everything else.
But as damilan asks, who is Kamal Haasan mentoring? He goes to watch the preview shows of all these movies, then agrees to pose for a photograph with these creative young filmmakers who then proudly put it up on their facebook wall. But beyond that I simply do not hear him talk about what is coming out in tamil cinema these days. He still talks about his own mentors, but what is he doing for the next generation? As an earlier commenter pointed out — and to lift a quote from someone Kamal himself keeps quoting — he *is* the change that tamil cinema wants to see. But he doesn’t seem to have understood the larger meaning of that. He only seems to apply it in the context of his own work.
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brangan
December 4, 2014
Rohan Nair: Okay, now you’re talking about the quality of Tamil cinema. I was taking off from your earlier point and talking about the risks involved in producing niche cinema in Tamil, because it does not have the pan-Indian audience that Hindi does and because recovery is harder due to lower-priced tickets etc. So a “Peepli Live” is simply not economically viable in Tamil.
Your question started about producing films. Now you’re talking about mentoring, which is another discussion.
And even there,
according to meIMO, no one is under any obligation to do anything in an industry where survival comes first.LikeLike
Rohan Nair
December 4, 2014
brangan, “So a “Peepli Live” is simply not economically viable in Tamil.”
Hmm. Pessimistic.
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brangan
December 4, 2014
Rohan Nair: Um… I am not trotting out an opinion. This is fact, based on conversations with a number of trade people here.
If you have a theory on how to make these films economically viable, then you should tell them and change the industry.
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ThouShaltNot
December 4, 2014
Agree with Rohan (and that may be my bias). Yet, it is all OK if the man doesn’t put all (or some of) his money where his mouth meanders (vaai mattume oru ulagam suttrum whatever), if he can stay away from unleashing ‘thathuvams”. Also, his breaking into (or even when ab initio) chaste tamizh seems labored, even if a bit guilt-inducing. And now, Vaai Mozhi? Apocalypse now! 🙂
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Madan
December 4, 2014
Aaranya Kaandam, Pizza, Mysskin’s films, – And Mysskin’s brilliant Onaayum Aatukuttiyum would not have broken even if not for Star Vijay buying the TV rights. I also heard that Ilayaraja waived off his composing fees and only asked that Mysskin pay the musicians who played Raja’s score. That must have helped too. And does that amount to a feasible, viable, repeatable business model? Probably not.
Leave alone something as far out as OAK. A film like Queen, with Kangana Ranaut as its only vehicle and Rajkummar Rao in a small supporting role, fell barely short of the Rs.100 cr mark. Kahaani went past it with, again, a female lead driving the film, this time Vidya Balan. What are the odds that a Nayantara or Tamanna Bhatia-driven Tamil film would rake up figures that would make the A-list heroes and their favourite directors a wee bit nervous (remember the terrible Kleavage barb at the height of Vidya Balan’s popularity)? You say Tamil cinema has evolved a lot since the 80s. Maybe it has in some respects. But in the complete objectification of its actresses, it only appears to have regressed further. I don’t think overacting Kajol in the 90s could have held a candle to Kushboo. We have come a long way indeed since then…sadly in the wrong direction.
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A B Rajasekaran
December 10, 2014
Amazing tribute!
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Ram
April 21, 2015
Nice tribute. Always wanted to know more about Rudraiah.
Do you know if Gramathu Athiyayam is available on DVD or tape? Has it ever been telecast on TV? I have been searching for this movie for a long time. Do let me know.
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Venkatesh
October 28, 2015
A fitting tribute! I’ve been wanting to see Aval Appadithaan ever since I came to know that it was praised as being ‘far ahead of its times’ by Mrinal Sen. ‘you are a prejudiced ass’, ‘she is a self-pitying, sex-starved bitch!’ – how often we get to hear such dialogues in Tamil films even nowadays? I like this particular scene (the conversation between Rajini and Kamal where they talk about wom[a|e]n). Easily one the finest sequences which shows the actor in Rajini. Dare I say, he effortlessly outshined Kamal in that particular scene! And to act in a film made by a newcomer without accepting remuneration, that too at a time when he was one of the most busiest actors in the country, was a commendable job; I think he had 21 releases spanning three languages that year.
I knew Ananthu was responsible for the Rudraiah-Kamal connection, but used to wonder how come the Ananthu-Rudraiah connection happened. We should really appreciate KB’s mastery in spotting talents. Wish he made Rudraiah direct a film for Kavithaalaya.
Coming back to Rudraiah, I never knew he was such a self-esteemed person. A while ago, there was a celebrity talk show in a TV channel (the topic being something like ‘Good cinema vs Bad cinema’). Rudraiah’s name frequently came up in the show – director Subramaniam Siva went to the extent of crying while recalling a 1982 interview of Rudraiah. His way of thinking, views, ideas, and approach gives me an impression that he was someone like a John Abraham (of Tamil cinema) albeit largely unsuccessful.
On a side note, Thappu Thalangal (the Tamil version) looks like being released in 1978; the same day as AA. 🙂
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brangan
November 10, 2019
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Varadhan Anandanpillai
February 17, 2020
Rudriah could have made a movie for NFDC. Even Mahendran did Sasanam though much delayed. But movies getting dropped midway regularly points to some other issues which we may not be privy to. Could it be a lack of bound script? Should improvisation always happen in the sets?
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