Published on PFC
1987. After reading the article of a new Kamal Hasan movie that was making waves in the media, I had locked myself in the room and went through all the movie’s images that were printed in the article. There was an old Kamal Hasan in a never before seen getup and makeup that really made him look, “realistically” old. The young Kamal Hasan about to fold his handkerchief as he walked on the streets of Bombay. Another one where an old Kamal Hasan was involved in an intense scene with a younger actress. I was enchanted. Enthralled. I did not know yet what the story was. Just that it was a movie based on Vardarajan Mudaliar, a Mumbai based mafia cum smuggler, who I don’t remember if he was still alive at the time.

  slowly started imagining what the story might be and started acting Kamal’s part out in front of the mirror. Such was the impact of a two page article, not cause it was well written (which it was) but because of the passion and intense desire to go out and watch that movie. Unfortunately, in 1987, Tamil movies hardly came to Bombay. As it was, it was the worst phase for Hindi movie goers… content and quality were going down the drain, theaters were closing down making way for shopping malls and whatever.

The movie was Nayakan. I got to watch the dubbed version of it around 10 years later. After having gone through the torture of watching its remake (Dayavan).

In all those years I ended up watching each and every Kamal movie that got released. Never mind if it was in Tamil, Malayalam or Hindi. From Mayor Saab, to Pushpak, to Michael Madan Kamarajan, to Appu Raja, to Mahanadhi (my favorite of all Kamal movies), to Guna, to Thevar Magan, to Sathi Leelavathi, to Kuruthipunal (mixed feelings but I liked Drohkaal better). It did not help that my roommate in college was a Tamil. A movie fan. And to top it all, he came from a family of film financiers. Ho Gaya Kalyan (Hinglish: Done Went Kalyan).

And then it happened. Right after Chachi 420. His Hindi remake of his own original Tamil movie. Shantanu Sheroy was supposed to direct it. He was shown the exit a few days into the shoot. Kamal took over as the director. The movie got made, was released and was quite successful.

And that was the last of Kamal Hasan. The one who’s Nayakan role I had enacted in front of the mirror. Except for a couple of films like Virumandi or even Anbe Sivam (I thought the trying to extract pity for his character was a bit too much). While Vettaiyadu Villaiyadu and Vasoolraja M.B.B.S showed the man had put the brakes on his creative process and approach… completely.

What was going wrong?

Perhaps too much of “I ME MYSELF”. Dipping into the dreaded pool of SELF INDULGENCE. Hey Ram, for me, was a big red flag. He was falling in the trap. Abhay confirmed it. Mumbai Express stamped it. And Dasavatharam has delivered the coffin to the grave.

In the first 30 minutes of Dasavatharam, you have a strong question to ask Kamal. You wanna scream and ask him this. Why in the world was it necessary for him to play a white Caucasian male? In the next 30 minutes another question. Why the hell was he playing a Japanese?

The questions did not arise because it may have been looking a bit implausible for the eyes and brains. The questions arose BECAUSE IT FUCKING WAS LOOKING IMPLAUSIBLE AND INDIGESTIBLE. Here was Kamal as a white guy wearing a synthetic mask and it looked just that. A mask. Ditto for the Japanese character played by him.

WHY WOULD ONE WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE WHERE CHARACTERS WEARING RUBBER MASKS TALK TO CHARACTERS WEARING RUBBER MASKS? WHAT IS THE POINT? I would rather watch the dumb puppet show if I had this urge to watch rubber talking to rubber.

What was this experiment all about? Was it an experiment in the first place or was it - SELF INDULGENCE?

Clearly someone should have taken the responsibility to tell him, during the making of the movie “Kamal this is not working”… and Kamal Hasan did not listen. Or perhaps no one told him that. After all he’s the great Kamal Hasan, one of the or may I dare say the finest of actors India has produced in the last three decades.

Breaking News.

Not anymore. For over ten years, you’ve kept forgiving his mistakes, experiments which clearly run on the “I ME MYSELF ALWAYS RIGHT” syndrome.

Sorry Kamal, but I can’t take this anymore. You’ve become, in my view, a self obsessed man who wants to see himself in each and every frame of the movie trying to do all the various never done before acting yoga postures; story film script be damned.

I mean what do the directors actually do these days on his sets? Work as assistant directors to Kamal’s direction?

What does this mean?

Death of an Actor.

And that is tragic. Here was one actor who in the “fraction of a second” could convey the emotion shooting right at your heart, in the slightest of motion. The look (oh man that look) he gives to his mother in Appu Raja after his heart is broken, the battling for survival as he hangs himself in the next shot in the same movie, the slight pointing of fingers (to depict a gun) as he struggles for catching his breath, asking his associate to shoot him in Kuruthipunal, the look (that look again, I tell ya is a million bucks) through his glasses in Anbe Sivam, the breaking down in spurts scene in Mahanadhi… volumes of such instances, scenes that I’m sure you have & treasure and which have stuck to you for years.

So is there hope?

Unfortunately I don’t think so. At an age past 50, having achieved all the stardom and regaled and worshipped, it’s a bit late and hard to step out of temple of vanity where he has all the power and looked upon as God. Only a director who’s as powerful as he is or is strong and dead bent on having his own way shall be able to give Kamal what he has long lost.

A memorable performance. And above all. A memorable movie