“Freedom
of expression in India has always been under threat…”
He
is widely acknowledged as one of the greatest living actors of Indian cinema. Kamal
Haasan is also an unrelenting experimentalist and multi-tasker. Through a
six-decade professional journey that began for him as a child, he has worked in
over 200 films – as a writer, producer, director, actor, dancer, choreographer and
singer, primarily in Tamil films with occasional forays into Telugu, Malayalam
and Hindi. In this exclusive interview, the legend looks back on what has been,
in his own words, “a very charmed life”.
By Anna MM Vetticad
Your Tamil film Papanasam and the Hindi Drishyam are both remakes of the Malayalam
film Drishyam. They have all been
hits. Are pan-India audiences more similar in their tastes than we realise?
Yes,
because we have a common mythology. And for thousands of years, Kashi,
Rameshwaram and for half the time Ajmer have all been part of our landscape. Gandhiji
was one of the few people who understood our ethos and that India has a
collective consciousness. So that can be put to good box-office use. (Laughs)
Ek Duuje Ke Liye
(1981) is a great example. It started off as a Telugu film (Maro Charitra). Producers were emboldened
to try it in Hindi with a new pair of actors because despite being in Telugu
and not being dubbed, it did two-and-half years in Chennai. They were so
astounded by the success that they decided to make it in Hindi with very few
changes, like shifting the location to Goa from Vizag. And it was an equally
big hit in Hindi. In fact, it became the biggest hit in (his long-time
collaborator and mentor) director Mr K. Balachander’s career and mine too.
You released the Tamil film Dasavathaaram (2008) in dubbed Telugu
and Hindi versions. You made Vishwaroopam
(2013) simultaneously in Tamil and Hindi. Considering the national ethos we
just spoke about, why don’t more Indian filmmakers dub their films into at
least a couple of other Indian languages?
Dubbing
takes away the essence of the language and makes the film more foreign than a
foreign film. I would rather that we put subtitles in Hindi or another language
and release it across.
Okay then, why don’t more
Indian filmmakers release their films with subtitles?
They
should. They should do it with English subtitles for a metro audience, but
fortunately I have a better thing and I’m trying to constantly do that. I’m
going to be doing more double versions now in Tamil and Hindi. Vishwaroopam 2 will be made in both
languages.
I’m assuming shooting a film in
more than one language is slightly more expensive so why don’t more filmmakers
release with subtitles across India or do dubbed versions?
Actually
not. No Hindi filmmaker can match the price at which we can make a Hindi film
when you amortise it with two films. Vishwaroopam
would cost Rs 80 crore to make just in Hindi, but you have two films for that
price.
So financially, what you’re
doing is more practical?
More
practical. Only thing is with my earlier films something or the other went
wrong. For instance, there was a ban on Vishwaroop
and they tried to buckle me in, and I tried DTH and the theatre guys were
upset and didn’t cooperate. But just because of a few mistakes, a sound
business solution need not be left aside. The problem with Dashavtar (2009), the Hindi dubbed version, is that it was released
a year later. If you do it together the momentum is national. The need to see
the film is fuelled by national publicity. Bahubali
cashed in on that.
It has become standard practice
for big Hollywood action adventures to be released in India in dubbed Hindi,
Telugu and Tamil versions apart from the original English. Are Indian filmmakers
slow to tap into markets beyond their traditional audiences?
Ya,
very very slow. I credit Hindi cinema for at least making it a little broader.
It started with Bengali. Thanks to a few people or probably one man called
Satyajit Ray, they went out and pushed their films. Hindi cinema has broadened
its market. Tamil and Telugu cinema are waking up 2-3 decades later. Even when Ek Duuje Ke Liye was a hit, people
thought twice about making a double version when we could amortise the cost. I
never understood why, because it’s a win win. I thought it was laziness, and
not knowing the market. I have so far done 23 double films. Thoongaavanam (2015, Cheekati Raajyam in Telugu) is my 24th. I have vast experience of
succeeding and a few of them failing. So you’re talking to a man who has
benefited from this.
You’ve tried various
experiments over the years. You tried to release Vishwaroopam directly on television before taking it to theatres
but you faced considerable opposition…
That
is because I am part of this industry, so whatever I do is considered to be a turncoat
kind of a thing. But if not me someone else will do it. I looked at it because
it’s a great opportunity to do films differently. As a matter of fact I’m
constrained by the size of my stardom in the matter of the kind of movies I can
do. I have to bloat a film to fit me which would not be necessary at all if I
have these kinds of smaller venues open to release my films. I would then do
smaller films too.
Theatre owners objected to Vishwaroopam coming out on TV first. Is
there greater unionisation…?
Cartelisation.
Is there greater cartelisation of
elements within the Tamil film industry than elsewhere, because it does appear
that in Tamil Nadu it is easier for associations and organisations to put a
huge amount of pressure on individual film makers?
That’s
because politics and the film industry have been very close. They’ve learnt bad
habits from each other. Andhra somehow managed to pull itself out of these
clutches and stay as a business entity. Tamil Nadu unfortunately has become a
cocktail of both.
Is the problem you faced with Vishwaroopam to do with the fact that powerful
politicians in Tamil Nadu own TV channels, and therefore control the film
industry in many ways?
It
is true that there are two. Both parties own TV channels and you have to be
careful when you make the third choice. You don’t wanna hurt anyone. The
industry could do without that.
Isn’t it suffocating for you?
Absolutely.
At the time of Vishwaroopam’s release, you had said you
want to leave the country.
I
meant it.
Why did you say that?
Because
of the general apathy to an artist. And it does not come from the audience. The
audience either respects or disrespects according to the output, they applaud
or simply decry the man for lack of performance. That’s a fair deal and they’ve
been very kind to me for the past three decades. My exasperation is because the
industry is a very unfriendly place for artistes. People who will come out and
help are limited in numbers.
Isn’t that a huge irony,
considering that the industry depends on artistes?
Is
it not tragic rather than irony? It’s tragic. It’s all about business. Rather
than celebrating a man who is going beyond the call of duty to make his work excellent,
they ridicule him. The audience appreciates actors for having tried beyond. The
industry simply wants you to shut up and behave, like in George Orwell’s Animal Farm. If you’re a pig, why do you
wanna fly?
How do you deal with the
frustration? Over the years, it does appear that you have ended up focusing a
lot of energy not on the creative aspects of your work but on these battles.
That
is why I said I’d like to leave this place, because it’s a waste of time. As a
matter of fact even the time that I spend on marketing my films is a waste. I
should be doing workshops imparting whatever I have learnt through my years,
and making films. Instead I am trying to just duck the blows that come my way
and they’re not blows I deserve either.
You said you wanted to leave
the country but you did not of course...
(Laughs) Well it’s been too short a while
since I said it, to know if I meant it. I might say it again. I hope I don’t
have to.
Going back to your point that you
sometimes feel constrained by your stardom because you have to bloat a project
to fit you. Can you elaborate on that?
Yeah,
sometimes I’m told not to make a small film. I ask why. I’m told: it will
shrink your market, then they’ll say that’s your size. That’s not true. Papanasam, for instance, is a very small
film which is not my market size at all. But I still did it.
But Papanasam is a remake of a Mohanlal-starrer. He’s a huge star in
Malayalam. Why do you consider it a small film?
But
it is a small film. A big Malayalam star
can do that. In the Malayalam industry, Mammooty can do Mathilukal (1989) with Adoor Gopalakrishnan and next a big
commercial entertainer. Mohanlal could do a small film like Namukku Parkkan Munthiri Thoppukal (Vineyards
For Us To Dwell In, 1986) and then
do a huge film. That’s allowed in Malayalam. Because it’s a small industry, the
money spent is smaller, so people churn out more number of films. Mohanlal and
Mammooty have to keep working on films. They come out with fantastic quality
and subjects, of course. Nowhere else in India will you find so much variety
within a small state. Point is, it’s nothing extraordinary if you go and do a
small film in the Malayalam film industry.
But in the Tamil industry if
you do a small film?
It’s
dangerous, almost suicidal. You will never find Rajinikanth attempting anything
like that.
But has your career path not
gone down a road which is different from his as a result of which you can
experiment more and take more risks?
I
have kept that facility at great peril. The pundits said don’t do it, this is
dangerous. I went ahead and did it, because I wanted that freedom. I was
willing to fight for it and they’ve been kind.
They? As in, the audience?
Yes,
they have not ditched me. If they do then I am finished because then the
pundits would’ve been right. They stood by me, they have been my only strength.
That’s why I continue with this. They are the only reason why I have stayed
back. When you ask me the question (laughing):
why have you not gone, you’re still here? The only reason is the audience, not the
industry.
You’re in your sixth decade in
films. What do you do to ensure that you don’t get bored and you don’t take
your own audience for granted?
I
have never taken my audience for granted because I am one of them. I never take
myself for granted.
How do you see yourself as your
own audience?
I
still like to see Kamal Haasan perform and not the same kind of roles. I don’t
look at myself as a trademarked John Wayne or MGR. I want to see myself in
different attire, different moods. I also write, so there’s quite a variety
still to be done.
It’s
very easy to take it for granted because mine is a very charmed life. It will
be wrong to say I suffered. I met the right kind of gurus at the right time
without any endeavour from my part. So there’s all the possibility of taking it
for granted. But I have not.
If
I take my success for granted, I’m taking my audience for granted. Because
where does the success come from? It’s not because I know I’m excellent, it’s them
accepting that I am excellent, that’s where the success comes. I might think
I’m the greatest actor in the world, but what if nobody else agrees that is the
case? That is the tragedy I’ll die with. It has happened to good actors. I’ve
seen many talented guys, many of my peers whose names you won’t even know, who
were equally talented or even better who never got to see the light of day. They
died either alcoholic or anonymous. Those are not wake-up calls, but they were
quite stark reminders of what could have become of me, so I never took it for
granted.
So your success from a combination
of talent, hard work, discipline and good luck?
Good
luck, yeah I could say that. But I’ve never shunned hard work and never never
took it for granted. So I never believed in luck that much. Probably because my
life is so charmed that you don’t have to believe in luck. I have a funny
saying that there is nothing called luck for those who deserve it. It’s like
that. Mine is a very happy life if you look at it. I can’t design a better one for
myself. I might put in a little tragedy to make it more fizzy.
You mean, if you were to make a
film on your life?
Yeah
yeah, it is quite a pleasant one as far as the professional side of things are
concerned. As I told you I met the right gurus at the right time, and not just
one. Once might have been an accident or chance. I kept meeting them again and
again and again. I don’t know whether I had humbled myself to meet them or they
just found me. Over various stages of my career I found these people reaching
out to me and helping me.
Your life story is worth
telling, is it not?
I’m
not a mirror, I’m a box and I’d like to keep it closed
You will not write your
autobiography?
No.
What is the purpose of writing something which is so dishonest?
Because you won’t tell the
truth?
You
can’t, because so many people are alive, they wouldn’t like it either. It’s better
that I leave the lies to others.
Vishwaroopam
was briefly banned in Tamil Nadu. This May, Vishwa Hindu Parishad called for a
ban on Uttama Villain. This is
happening more and more in our country? Do you think free speech is under
threat?
I
think politicians found that their manifestos are not helping acquire fame and
attract attention, so they’ve turned to such shortcuts. Otherwise I don’t see a
reason. There’s nothing at all they could have been so angry about with Uttama Villain – now the film has released
they look silly.
Is freedom of
expression more under threat now than when you were starting out in films?
It has always been under threat by moral policing, but now with
the media it becomes easy for everyone to make a noise. So the brawls are
looking bigger, but actually they’re not battles at all. They’re actually
scuffles and frivolous scuffles.
Male actors of the present
generation have become far more body conscious than in previous generations.
What do you think of young male stars going shirtless to display their well
worked out gym-toned torsos?
It’s
like hairstyles at one time, dancing at one time, now this is the fad. But that
will not yet complete an actor. Good health is universal. Everyone should have
a good and healthy body. How many muscles you should see on the outside is a
question of aesthetics. Among the bodybuilding community, the beefcake look is
getting out of fashion. They’re now looking at slim, wiry, very muscular
beautiful bodies. So it’s changing with time.
So within filmdom also you
think it will change?
It
will definitely change. I think I always admired a good physical form. From the time of Da Vinci, Greece and Rome
there has been admiration for good bodies. Some actors have been lazy and not
taken care of themselves but I thought Kirk Douglas was well built for his
time. He was not a bodybuilder but he was built well. All the actors who played
Bond had a fairly good musculature – not enough to win Mr Olympia but they were
there.
Name a Tamil male actor from a
previous generation who was similarly fit.
Without
a doubt, for his time, M.G. Ramachandran. I became a gym enthusiast because of
MGR.
Does being a dancer help you
maintain your body?
Yes,
but the body you saw in Abhay or Aalavandhan (2001) comes only from
exercise.
As we grow older, achieving
that kind of a body becomes slightly more difficult. What are your fitness
mantras?
I
work out. I never used any protein shots. I’ve eaten protein, which in itself
is wrong. I’ve taken so much protein to build my body, which I learnt later was
unnecessary, but I’ve never taken any of these booster shots or animal stacks
or any of those things. That is very commonly used now to get a quick body. Any
good nutritionist or physical culturist will tell you that you can’t get that
kind of musculature overnight without resorting to these kind of drugs.
Otherwise you will have to spend 6-7 hours in the gym every day. Most guys don’t
do that kind of exercise.
So you’re saying most
youngsters today who display really heavily muscled bodies are using these
supplements?
Quick
fixes.
Why did you never do it?
I
never saw this as the only route to success, so my health was very important
for me. I wanted to live a little longer and not get instant results. Above all
I had someone like Mr KB (K. Balachander) supporting me so I thought I had a
long career ahead and I didn’t want to support it with cortisone.
Are young actors who opt for
such quick fixes being irresponsible role models?
I’m
sure by the time they are ready to die with kidney disease, good medicines
would have been found for kidney troubles. But these medicines will affect
them. They will get a heart attack or kidneys will fail. This is not wishing
them bad, this is just warning them.
So are they being irresponsible
role models?
No,
they’re irresponsible to themselves to begin with. If one or two are not using
these quick fixes, I congratulate them.
At the Habitat Film Festival in
Delhi this May, in reply to a question from the audience about when you will
act with your daughters Shruti and Akshara, you said you are waiting for them
to become actors, right now they are busy being stars. What does that mean?
(Laughs)
Actor and star are different things. Star is something you can be by luck, a
good actor you have to be by hard work. Shruti wants to be both, I don’t know
what Akshara would be.
But is it also not destiny that
you’re born with the talent?
No,
I don’t think so. You aren’t born with it. I wasn’t born with talent. It was
inculcated into me by gurujis and my family. Ilayaraja was not born with music,
he acquired it later on.
Do you see yourself as an
actor, a star, or both?
I
started off as a technician. I had scant regard for both actors and stars. But then
Mr Balachander foisted (laughs) this
new armour on me and I think I became a little more invincible than I would
have been if I’d just been a technician. He gave me this financial armour
called stardom.
So if you want to be a
producer, director etc, is it a huge advantage if you’re a star?
Absolutely.
It’s not hubris, but the confidence you
find in my voice comes from that advantage.
Many people
consider K. Balachander’s Apoorva Raagangal
(1975) your big breakthrough. Do you?
Apoorva Raagangal
was one of my important films but
I think my breakthrough came when Balachanderji made Manmatha Leelai (1976) and then Maro
Charitra (1978) after that. He kept making films only with me.
Was the
breakthrough then the fact that he decided he wanted to work with you?
Ya he decided, I had no choice in that. I was a nobody. He sort
of discovered me and sometimes I suspect he could have invented me. (Laughs) Because I didn’t believe I could
or I wanted to even be an actor. He brought it about and he kept on. We made 36
films together.
You said your original
ambition was to be a technician. You mean a director?
Ya, a filmmaker. He asked me one day when I was 19, “So what are
your plans?” I said, “I’m not even ready to discuss my plans with you, Sir.” He
insisted, so I told him I wanted to become a director like him. To which he
said: “That you will. You have the capacity to become that, but what you have
inside you is something not many do. With training you can become a director,
no amount of training can make the star that you are going to be. You’re going
to be a phenomenal actor, don’t lose sight of that. Build a house, become rich
and then think of making films.” And that’s what I did.
That’s amazing
practical advice.
And I took it. That’s even more practical of me. (Laughs)
(A shorter version of this interview by Anna MM Vetticad appeared in
the September 2015 issue of Maxim magazine)
Photographs
courtesy:
Note: These photographs were not published in Maxim
