Looking back at the Jayalalitha persona, refracted through her appearances on the screen, both big and small.
It’s tempting to imagine that, right from the beginning, destiny had designs on Jayalalitha. There she is, barely in her teens , billed as “Kumari Jayalalitha,” in the 1962 Kishore Kumar-Sadhana starrer, Man-Mauji, directed by Krishnan-Panju. (The duo would go on to direct her again in Engal Thangam, opposite MGR.) She appears in a dance sequence, as Lord Krishna. She’s already assuming a male role. She’s already being positioned as an object of worship. Before she became the much-venerated Amma, she was an actress, the screen goddess of her era.
How does one remember a star who ruled the screen for as long as Jayalalitha did, with a filmography studded with so many hits? You could recall her presence – say, in the song Oru naal yaaro, from Major Chandrakanth. She looks like a freshly minted cherub, as sweet as P Sushila’s voice. You could recall her work with Sivaji Ganesan – whether as the thespian’s daughter (Motor Sundaram Pillai) or his love interest (Galatta Kalyanam). You could recall her films with MG Ramachandran, from their first (Aayirathil Oruvan, 1965) to their last (Pattikaattu Ponniah, 1973), with one magical song (Ennai theriyuma, from Kudiyirundha Kovil) after another (Ninaithen vandhaai, from Kaavalkaran). You could look back at her films with the next generation of actors, Muthuraman and Ravichandran. But there was always this sense that something was missing, that she was holding back, that her persona was far more fascinating than her performances seemed to suggest.
Jayalalitha entered films when men and women weren’t equal. This is true of Tamil cinema even today, when heroines are mere eye candy (and as disposable as a candy wrapper), but the leading lady of the 1960s was even more of a patriarchal construct, bent over from the burden of representing a man’s idea of “Indian womanhood.”
Consider Jayalalitha’s debut in Tamil cinema, in Sridhar’s Vennira Aadai (1965). Nirmala is the nominal heroine, but the story revolves around Jayalalitha’s character, Shobha, who was widowed mere hours after marriage. The trauma has left her with a mental condition, which is gradually cured by a psychiatrist (Srikanth). Shobha falls for Srikanth, who cannot tell her he is engaged to Nirmala, lest she lapse into her original condition. After many plot twists, we reach the final scene. Shobha accepts that she’s meant to be loveless, alone.
Seen today, the film blurs the line between professional and personal, reel and real. Early on, we see the ebullient Shobha in a series of riotously colourful “Western” attire – skirts, high-waisted Capri pants, sleeveless tops. But midway through the movie, after her “cure,” she turns demure, more “Indian” – thereon, she’s seen in dignified saris. In the last scene, she emerges in a white sari.
Most of the films Jayalalitha appeared in followed this progression. She’d begin the movie as a specific individual – the imperious, wealthy, convent-educated achiever we perceived Jayalalitha to be in real life – and slowly transform into a generic heroine, as her character is “tamed.” One of the most famous of these parts came in Pattikada Pattanama (1972), where her character is named Kalpana. In her first scene, she alights from a flight from London, where she’s been studying. She’s wearing hippie clothes, go-go sunglasses. When her mother asks her how London was, she replies, “Oh, it was simply fab, mummy!” She agrees to marry a villager (Sivaji Ganesan), but soon finds she cannot cope with the lifestyle change. “Let this village go to hell,” she screams. “I don’t care. It’s not Paris. Damned village people. Old-fashioned brutes. Don’t know the ABCs of civilisation.” But by the end, she realises the error of her Western ways. She falls at her husband’s feet. The last scene has them heading to a happily-ever-after. On a bullock cart.
Given the kind of films being made in Jayalalitha’s time, the kind of submissive roles she had to essay over and over, perhaps it’s no surprise that she eventually broke away into a different field, one in which hers was the hand that cracked the whip. And what a different field it turned out to be, as she revealed in Simi Garewal’s television show. When asked about her serene, calm exterior, she said, “When you are a leader, you learn to control your emotions. You learn not to show them openly… I keep my emotions to myself. They are not for public display. I have never lost my temper in public. I have never wept in public.” In other words, after so many years of acting out her emotions, she had to learn how to act like she had no emotions.
But what was she really like? For the quintessential “Jayalalitha scene,” we may have to look beyond the films Jayalalitha made. We may have to look at Mani Ratnam’s Iruvar (1997). The MG Ramachandran-equivalent character, Anandan, is hunting for a new heroine, and he’s in a screening room, watching a clip featuring the Jayalalitha character (called Kalpana, like the Pattikada Pattanama heroine). This is the first time we see her, in a song that goes Hello, Mr. Ethirkatchi. With these opening words, she’s already hinting at the breakaway Opposition Party Anandan will form after she enters his life – but there’s some opposition from her too, when she’s cast in a film opposite this mega-star. On the set, everyone falls at his feet, but Kalpana demands, “Why should I? This is a democracy. Everyone’s equal.” A woman who does not see why she has to follow the man-made rules of a man-made world – that sounds like Jayalalitha, all right.
An edited version of this piece can be found here. Copyright ©2016 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Iswarya
December 8, 2016
Thank you so much for this.. Especially the “freshly minted cherub” moved me to tears. Alright, I am quite maudlin in the last few days now reading obit after obit for a woman like no other.. I watched portions of this Vennira Aadai two days ago on TV and was struck by the same thought. How free and footloose she seems at the beginning, only to be crushed under the weight of tragedy and withdrawing into a lonely place of reticence and dignity.. OK. Will stop here without rambling any further. Thanks again!
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Anuja Chandramouli
December 8, 2016
Off-screen deity, on-screen goddess…
That says it all really. As an on – screen Goddess, Jayalalitha must have gotten used to the adoration, adulation and applause, making her ill- disposed towards those who did not give her any or all of the above. This coupled with the fact that she must have loathed being forced into submission on-screen or having no choice but to bend that iron will of hers in order to meet conventional, patriarchal strictures had the unhappy result that she grew increasingly isolated and developed hardcore trust issues (it happens when chauvinist pigs repeatedly try to take advantage of you, physically assualt you in public and call you vulgar names) which spilled over into her political life to the detriment of the state as well as her personal and public life. Her aura was such that well meaning individuals as well as opportunists were dazzled by it and had trouble getting close.
In an interview, J had said something about the first and second stages of her life being dominated by her mum and MGR, that the final stage would be entirely hers to do with as she pleased. But I think we can all agree that it did not exactly pan out that way with the CM insisting on a one (wo)man show on the outside, ruling like a medieval Empress but becoming scarily in need of someone, anyone who could fill the void left by her mum and mentor.
If only she had surrounded herself with a team of smart, qualified people who could have done for her what Chanakya did for Chandragupta Maurya… Perhaps then J could have fully realised her potential. Damn!
Moral of the story: It’s high time we stopped worshipping our film stars, sports heroes and politicians. They do not deserve to be raised on pedestals. Instead we are better off treating them as mortals who need to do their jobs well and to be held accountable if they don’t.
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Anu Warrier
December 8, 2016
Jayalalitha was unique indeed. For all her flaws, and if even half the criticisms are true, then there were many, she was a character like no other. For better or for worse, she shaped the destiny of a state, and did so on her own terms. I know of no other leader who was so quietly confrontational, and seemed so invincible doing so. That took guts.
Her death truly marks the end of an era. I feel strange saying RIP – it’s such a Christian thing. Hindu souls don’t rest, do they? They are on an eternal journey to the ultimate salvation? (Sorry, went off on a tangent there.)
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sanjana
December 8, 2016
Maybe after 5 years from now, the true picture may emerge.
The most powerful also cant escape death. And immediately they leave a void.
What turn Tamilnadu politics will take from now on?
As of now Chidambaram is the tallest leader who can govern this state efficiently if Swamy allows him to do so. And Kanimozhi is also there.
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Marees
December 8, 2016
Jayalalitha topped Tenth standard in Tamil Nadu in state exams just before entering movies. While shooting movies, she used to always read a book between breaks. When she built her first house, the hall was actually a big library.
In her own words, she found MGR as an intellectual equal, where she could discuss any topic under the sun with him.
In summary we all need to give more credit to MGR & Jaya, instead of reducing them to stereotypical caricatures.
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Mowgli (@vnambirajan)
December 8, 2016
Quite an irony – that an actress who played the ‘taming of the shrew’ narrative arc and got tamed in reel life went on to control governments, a state machinery and ministers later.
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blurb
December 8, 2016
Thanks for mentioning Iruvar. I’ve been watching scenes of Iruvar for the past two days. The movie, already a gem, has risen to so much more with the passing of JJ.
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Anon
December 8, 2016
She was truly one of a kind. How much personal sanity had to be sacrificed to be as bold as she did in public, only she will know. It’s truly truly amazing how she managed to survive and one up the patriarchal establishment that tried to put her in her place every time. She was intelligent, bold and a role model. I’m tempted to attribute her high handedness to a survival tool but it was probably a mix of her personality and the need to be high handed to not get done in by a bunch of people who would all too happy to take her down. What she managed to achieve against odds is overwhelming me a little bit.
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Anon
December 8, 2016
Anyone here that is NOT a fan of Iruvar? I find it inauthentic, with stilted dialogues and delivery. I didn’t feel the impact that I was supposed to feel in multiple scenes. Scenes ended too early. It’s not like I’m not familiar with the history or I didn’t want to be engaged – I just wasn’t as engaged as I wanted to be.
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venkatesh
December 8, 2016
RIP JJ.
May the likes of her not come again,
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Honest Raj (formerly 'V'enkatesh)
December 8, 2016
I’ve seen her in close proximity three times. The first of which came in 1996 when her party held a conference in Trichy. She stopped a man – probably in his 60s – who was about to throw himself down at her feet in front of a massive crowd. Back then, things were different.
We may or may not like her, but definitely cannot ignore her. She was arguably the most powerful female leader in India since Indira Gandhi!
the leading lady of the 1960s was even more of a patriarchal construct, bent over from the burden of representing a man’s idea of “Indian womanhood.”
Couldn’t agree more! When I saw Pattikada Pattanama barely a month ago, sorta felt like SKV was a spiritual successor to the film. ‘Womanhood’, ‘Tamil culture’, ‘Indian civilization’, ‘Western culture’, et al. Sigh! It even won a National Award. Indian mainstream cinema has come a long way!
Btw, she formed a hit pair with Jaishankar, didn’t she?
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Honest Raj (formerly 'V'enkatesh)
December 8, 2016
Anon: Anyone here that is NOT a fan of Iruvar?
I’m in. No doubt “technically” it was a great film, but not a compelling one story-wise.
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Madhu
December 8, 2016
@blurb: I love Iruvar, but I don’t think the Aishwarya Rai role in the movie reflects even a fraction of what JJ was and went on to be. I think MR took care not to go on about her role as he would have liked to, or may be he decided that JJ’s portions weren’t the most interesting portion of the two men’s relationship. I am saying this becaus: she is conveniently bumped off, her dynamics with Janaki Ramachandran is never explored, she is the MR’s equivalent of ‘loosu ponnu’ in that movie when it is obvious JJ was anything but. All she has is some token dialogue about him not acknowledging her in public and such. I always felt that she came in more scenes than Tabu, but Tabu’s was much more detailed role than hers.
Anyway, that is about the movie.
About JJ, I haven’t wrapped it around my head yet. It is too overwhelming, even 75 days weren’t enough to prepare me I guess. I miss her, as silly and stupid as that sounds.
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Sifter
December 8, 2016
Thank you for writing this. This comment is not about her goodness or her faults. This is not about her politics. This is my emotional response. Pure and simple.
I remember my grandfather refer to her as Pappathi this or Pappathi that. Just the way he said it implied whether he is impressed with her or referring to her with scorn. I had seen her movies…of course, impressed by her audacity at times, but didn’t care one way or the other.
That changed post her acquittal in 2015. But a few months ago I came across Vaasanthi’s unauthorized autobiography by pure chance. Bought it, read it and my interest spiraled and from then somehow got very emotionally invested and connected in her after that. The past 2 months and more so the last few days got me so weepy. It would not be an exaggeration to say that there is still a heaviness in my heart.
Reading anything and everything I could about her now. What a woman she was! She remained fierce and bold as heck.
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Altman
December 8, 2016
Thank you, Brangan. One can read a plethora of obits – both hagiographic and evenhanded – only spotlighting her whirlwind of a political career. Yours is a fresh viewpoint on her larger than life persona via her characters in movies. Have to say, I sort of expected this from you.
Anon: Though I am a fan of Iruvar, I agree with you on the dialogues and inauthenticity. The lines are very simplistic and so unrepresentative of the era the film portrays. Mohanlal, Prakash Raj, and Nasser are portraying the trio of great orators of Dravidian movement, who mesmerized people with their speeches but none of the actors speak like their real life counterparts. The reason must be Suhasini’s limitations as a writer. Now compare the insipid dialogues to Vairamuthu’s incendiary lyrics, you see the contrast, the mismatch of styles I am referring to. Someone like Sujatha, with his sheer wit and mastery of language, would have done more justice to the material IMO.
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Vignesh Kanagaraja
December 8, 2016
Thanks Baradwaj Rangan, for writing such a nice small piece on Jayalalitha. Why Thanks? You are one of the very few writers who have not deviated from reality and have not a new-found angel in the former CM. She was as human as most of us – she did quite some good things and equally bad things. I find it surprising that the same media who had blasted her barely a few months ago is now projecting her as the Goddess of Tamil Nadu who has sacrificed her life for the poor and needy Tamilians. Really glad you too did not go into that mold.
I have always respected her for her strong decisions and have admired her oratory skills, command over language – both Tamil and English. On the other hand, hated her arrogance and the amount of superiority complex she demonstrated where she bordered dictatorship.
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Madan
December 8, 2016
Have pretty mixed feelings about her political legacy (which goes for most modern leaders anyway). And while we need not single her out for it, I hope we haven’t already forgotten that she refused to protect Viswaroopam from the mob. But as a person, she was a most remarkable one, goes without saying. RIP.
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
December 8, 2016
“Happily ever after….on a bullock cart” Vow !
This is so different from all the other JJ articles we’ve been inundated with these last few days.
Easily the crispest (sic) and breeziest and has a consistent theme running through it.
Thanks so much for this !
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Dracarys
December 8, 2016
Aishwarya Rai’s best role till date , for me, has been her debut role of Jayalalitha in Iruvar! Dual roles and surprisingly short ones…Mani’s instructions to Aishwarya must have been just to be herself I guess…smart, intelligent and innocent at the same time!
Agree to disagree on the dialogues in Iruvar. Character speak chaste/diplomatic tamil in public but casual talk while in private. That’s always the norm…everywhere..
Also, if you can watch the movie again, you will sense that the Anandan and Tamizharasan share a warm camaraderie and mutual respect since their first meeting on a movie set..and that shows in their conflicts in later part of the movie as well.
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Rohit Sathish Nair
December 9, 2016
Iruvar wasn’t ‘engaging’ engaging for me too, but it worked a lot better for me with a second watch. Today I see it as something like The Godfather: Part II – ‘disengagement’ is the big point made, with people you liked and were invested in initially turning into very different people. People doing the right thing all the time and yet making mistakes somewhere along the way. But here, unlike in the latter where you get Vito, we are given no one else to put our anchor on.
Didn’t really feel that the dialogues were that ordinary because I don’t know much Tamil.
Ma…ybe, their being shown as men of average words must be an extension of what Mani Ratnam thought of these people. Ordinary men who somehow rose above the ordinary thanks to some semblance of talent. Considering how some Tamilians say that whatever is wrong with Tamil cinema and politics is a direct effect of the successes and failings of these 3, and also about how idol worship survived in Tamil Nadu, I guess this analogy works.
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r5arun
December 9, 2016
Manirathnam did not flesh out Kalpana’s character in a way that fully does justice to Jayalalitha. May be he did not think, she would never become the CM after a string of graft cases. Kalpana is largely defined by the role she plays in Anandhan’s life, as a stark contrast to Pushpa. I think Manirathnam thought of Anandhan’s affair with Kalpana as a character flaw. In Conversations with BR, he tells how he thinks some people will use rationalizations (Pushpa va appadiye urichu vachcha mathiri irukka) to indulge in things that a society will disapprove of. Manirathnam probably owes us a JJ movie. Since Iruvar JJ has redefined herself independent of her relationship with MGR.
But Mani’s take is much interesting. Instead of focussing on the character flaw, he uses the Aishwaryas to make a bigger point about Anandhan’s losses. He loses both the Aishwaryas. Heck he does not even get to see their corpses. Pushpa is buried before he can show up, and Kalpana’s remains are never found. What makes this more interesting is how Manirathnam beautifully foreshadows this. When the movie opens, you first see Anandhan in his first movie role waxing eloquent about a dead lover. And the actress is another Aishwarya Rai. No relation to Kalpana or Pushpa! (And Aishwarya is somewhat out of focus in her first her movie role in a movie that never got made). That’s the only time he manages to see her corpse. Anandhan’s possible last words: “Rose bud”.
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jussomebody
December 9, 2016
Agree with Madhu. I am a huge Iruvar fan, but I won’t go so far as to look to it to try and understand JJ or indeed any of the personalities on which the characters were supposedly based. I think the movie did a great job of weaving a compelling narrative around events that are part of the common sense of anyone even vaguely interested in TN politics and cinema. But of course, it also involved taking giant leaps in order to make that narrative compelling (Kalpana looking like Pushpa, for eg.), and the arc, sort of redemptive (Tamil Selvan’s final lament), and that would’be involved a lot of imagination in terms of what those people were like, what their motivations were, and so forth. I have been thinking a fair bit over the last few days about how personalities can drive narratives about them through what they choose to reveal in interviews, etc. (and indeed, what else do we have to base our feelings about them upon). But looking to Iruvar does seem a bit too facile, no? 🙂
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sravishanker1401gmailcom
December 9, 2016
r5arun : Thats almost a review of the movie. Good one.
Personally I think its a flawed movie with great production values and outstanding acting.
Flawed because somewhere in the second half its almost becomes a checklist of events – t’this one in / check – MR Radha shooting done ? Check…and so on” Thats teh point it ceases to be engaging.
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prasunsblog
December 9, 2016
That sounds very similar to Saira Banu in Purab aur Paschim which came out just 2 years earlier.
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edwardssammyy
December 10, 2016
Re Jayalalitha’s parallels with Kalpana, that incident actually did happen in real life. The second day of shooting at AO, Jayalalitha refused to stand up for the senior artistes. Panthulu furiously asked her mother Sandhya to make her comply with the existing etiqueete at that time. Jayalalitha, as expected, raged about it and threatened to not go for the shooting if she had to follow those absurd rules and conventions. But,, ultimately,like in every other decision, she caved in to Sandhya’s requests.
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edwardssammyy
December 10, 2016
Also, Jayaliltha too desperately wanted to marry MGR near the end of his life, in order to gain a stronger foothold in the party. In fact, she had asked him to come up to Mannargudi where she had arranged a small ceremony. And MGR didn’t show up there, and later claimed that he wasn’t serious earlier.
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Garvit Sharma
December 10, 2016
The first memory I have of Jayalalitha was of my father reffering to her during the Vajpayee Government
“Jab bhi madam Dilli aati hain market bitha deti hain” (“Whenever Madam comes to Delhi,she brings down the stock market”).
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