“Go watch ‘16 Vayadhinile’,” my Telugu speaking neighbour insisted. I reluctantly did and it turned out to be a lottery. The film, directed by a debutante Bharathiraja was engrossing with first rate performances by Sridevi , Kamal and Rajni. Sridevi’s transformation from a carefree coquette who reluctantly starts loving the village idiot after being duped by a city slicker was stunning. I was hungry for more and devoured anything starring this trio. I caught up with ‘Moodru Mudichu’, a typical K. Balachander tale in which she marries the father of her boyfriend’s murderer just to keep him at bay. There was ‘Gayathri’ with Rajini again playing her tormentor. A couple of years and some insignificant films later Bharathiraja cast her in ‘Sigappu Rojakkal’ where she’s courted by and married to a suave Kamal before she realises he’s a psychopath. The same year (1978) Sri acted in around 15 films and also made her Hindi debut with ‘Solwa Saavan’ though she’d earlier acted as Lakshmi’s kid sister in ‘Julie’. When I met Amol Palekar a little later he was candid. “I had decided that if people think I’ve achieved ten percent of what Kamal had I’d be happy, but Sridevi was a revelation even though she didn’t know the language and was doing the role all over again,” confessed Amol.
There’s no doubt that Sridevi was influenced by Kamal’s style of acting, sometimes bordering on imitation. Rishi Kapoor mentions Sri learnt ‘method acting’ from Kamal in his memoir. I disagree. I would call it practised spontaneity. Both share a felicity of face that is more reacting than acting with an enviable gift for comic timing. Kamal has confessed that he guided and corrected her initially, but was stunned by her rapid transformation into a consummate performer. Just one song in ‘Varumayin Niram Sivappu’ ( Chippi irukkudhu ) is testament to their on-screen understanding. They acted in 27 films together and complemented rather than competed which made the chemistry sizzling. Watch their last film together, ‘Oka Radha Iddhuru Krishanulu’, a mediocre enterprise enhanced purely by their performances. Sri played second fiddle to Kamal’s bravura performance in an author backed role in ‘Kalyana Raman’ and he returned the favour in ‘Moodram Pirai’. They knew when to hold back while performing together.
“You sometimes forget to call ‘Cut’ when you watch them perform,” said Balu Mahendra, after the release of ‘Moondram Pirai’. “Sri just slipped into the role. It was entirely her interpretation after I briefed her.” Gulzar was in Madras to write the lyrics and had watched portions that had been shot. “It could have easily been reduced to hamming but what a performance,” said the sensitive filmmaker . I watched the ‘first copy’ of ‘Sadma’ with Balu and select friends at Chamundeshwari Studios in Bangalore where ‘Ooma Kuyil’ a remake of ‘Kokila’ was being shot. Amitabh who was shooting in the city had requested a screening. There are rumours that Dimple Kapadia refused the role, but Balu told me he had approached Rekha purely for commercial reasons but rescinded when she insisted on Amitabh for Kamal’s role. Everything happens for the best and a visibly moved Amitabh hugged Balu after the show.
‘Sadma’ did not do as well as the Tamil version. “Well it didn’t do too badly either,” said Kamal when I asked him if tastes differ across borders. We were not surprised by Sridevi’s act in ‘Moondram Pirai’ but it took a ‘Sadma’ for the Hindi filmgoer’s gaze to rise from Sridevi’s thighs to her face. What followed were not roles of substance but the garishly mounted Telugu remakes. Ironically, Northern audiences who called ‘Madrasi’ films loud lapped up these senseless, hysterical offerings with gusto and some like ‘Tohfa’ broke box-office records. Sridevi went through the motions having to strain physically not emotionally. Her snake dance act in ‘Nagina catapulted to super stardom and after films like ‘Mr. India’ and ‘Chaalbaaz’ it was being whispered that heroes with waning careers depended on her to prop them up. Not even Amitabh was spared after ‘Khudha Gawah’. She achieved what her male counterparts from the South, Kamal, Rajini and Chiranjeevi couldn’t. She accepted roles that barely scratched the surface of her immense talent but just her incandescent presence lit up the screen.
She was an introvert rarely hobnobbing with the cast or crew. She would listen stone faced as the director explained the scene but the transformation when the director shouted ‘action’ was astounding. It’s as if a wax doll had come to life, suddenly. She would offer a menu card of expressions from which the director could choose. Acting is the art of reprising a character totally alien in nature convincingly and Sridevi did that with consummate ease. There’s an inexplicable element of magic about acting and Sridevi achieved that effortlessly.
With nothing negative that could be said about her acting the Bombay press was busy scrutinising her personal life, always reminding her she was an outsider. They were never kind to her in life and were briefly disappointed when it was declared her demise was due to a heart attack. Relieved when it was concluded ‘death due to accidental drowning’ they pounced like a pack of wolves. No they didn’t want to believe the word accidental. She faced the vicissitudes of life doggedly but could not dodge death. Hopefully, she’s sleeping in a more peaceful place.
By the way she’s not a Bollywood superstar as is being bandied about. She’s a South Indian superstar who ruled the Hindi film industry unchallenged and there will not be another like her, ever.
sshivu@yahoo.com
