Sixty. Does it seem like a milestone that forces you to look back at the journey you’ve taken?
Well, it’s definitely no surprise that I am turning 60. The fact that I’ve lived this long is not really an achievement. Time passes, we age… it’s natural. This is why it annoys me when a person watches a movie and tells me that it was ‘time pass’. Would time not have passed if he hadn’t watched the film? But yes, I do throw glances at what I’ve done; I take stock of my inventory, so to speak. I think I’ve managed to retain my honesty, and while I don’t agree that it’s a great policy as the adage goes, I believe that it’s a luxury that only few people can afford.
On your birthday, you’re encouraging your fan club to clean a lake in Taramani.
There are civic issues that bother me. My road (Eldam’s Road), for example, has been laid and relaid over and over again. As a boy who looked out of the window at this road, I can, with confidence, tell you that the road has ascended several feet. Why is the road not scraped before a new one is laid? I’m talking about these issues, as Swachh Bharat seems to be quite the trend now.
Some people believe that for change to occur, the people who seek it must participate in governance. With your fan base, politics must seem an interesting prospect.
Would I get into politics? I’ll just say what I tell people when they ask me this. Pray that everyday citizens like me aren’t pushed to that corner. I’m happy doing my bit in the background with my supporters. We have been doing useful work for 30 years.
In fact, one of the most memorable photographs of my life was one in which a member of my ‘narpani iyakkam’ stood waist-deep in a sink hole to clean drainage. He did that, expecting nothing in return.
Is it scary that there are admirers who’re willing to do anything?
Yes. That’s why I changed the fan club to a ‘narpani iyakkam’. In fact, when the late MGR asked me if I was interested in politics, I asked him instead for suggestions on how to make my group apolitical.
You wrote both Vishwaroopam 2 and Uttama Villain. In an interview, you have said you’re grateful that filmmakers like R. C. Sakthi encouraged you to write.
Yes! I wish I could be equally encouraging of Shruti (Shruti Haasan). I think she writes a lot better than I do. Perhaps she will read this interview and get motivated to write more.
What else do you write?
I write the occasional poem. I think my dabbling in poetry makes me better at screenplays. Poetry teaches the value of condensing, the importance of talking in a few words. So, yes, I do write poetry even though I’m asked not to publish them.
Too controversial?
I wrote one ten years back about the onset of gay marriages. So, you can imagine.
Despite your confessed reluctance to act, you chose to do so.
People keep saying Balachander discovered me. I differ. He invented me. When a stalwart like him suggests that I act in films, who am I to refuse?
What do you make of the kind of films you’re working on today?
Well, it’s clear that I’m scared and I’m playing the market. I’m not as free as an art filmmaker and that’s fine because I want to take people towards that destination eventually. The journey is more important, and when I die, I want to do so knowing that I’ve led some people forward. That said, I’d really like to make a film like Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life . Before all that, let me make the usual films without the fear of them being banned.
From Virumaandi to Vishwaroopam, your films have met with quite some backlash, haven’t they?
Being offended is one thing, breaking glass is another. If somebody misrepresented a reality I relate to, I’d probably be offended by it, but I wouldn’t resort to violence or fundamentalist measures.
Going back to writing, I see that many directors prefer to do the writing themselves. Why’s this?
I had a conversation with Karunanidhi once, when he asked me why I was keeping him waiting for so long before each release. I told him, “ Ezhudha therinjavanga illa sir.” He replied, “ Therinju ezhudharavan illanu sollunga .” I don’t think we have enough trained screenwriters here.
Surely, there are Tamil novelists who can step in?
I was responsible for bringing in people like the late Sujatha into the industry. However, most writers are sceptical of film people, I think. It’s just a different medium.
A progressive film like Aval Appadithan was made in 1978. Do you believe we have grown since then?
We have regressed really. I’m not sure what is causing this decline. It’s perhaps the mass influx of untrained people into the industry because of the success of filmmakers like Bharathiraja and Ilaiyaraaja. Aval Appadithan was a guerilla attack on the industry by insiders like me. It slipped through their fingers, so to speak. With all the attention that films get these days, I doubt we can get away with such a film any more.
People think Bharathiraja and Ilaiyaraaja just came from their villages and became legends here. They don’t know the training and hard work they had to put in to get where they are today. When we were making Raja Paarvai , Ilaiyaraaja would often request to be excused in the evening. I initially thought he probably wanted some sleep. Later, I came to know that he was taking classes in classical music in the evenings. It is such dedication to learning that gets you to the top.
So, you believe that the regression is caused mainly by untrained filmmakers?
Sure. When I met the late director Balu Mahendra, I was encouraged by his education at the Pune Film Institute. I asked him if I should join too, and he said I should. However, I learned then that high school dropouts like myself would not be allowed to train there. But at least, during the days that I stepped into films, we had the excuse of not having any training centres in filmmaking. Today, there’s just no excuse.
For perhaps the first time in decades, you have three films waiting for release.
It’s a strange phenomenon. I was worried about the fate of Vishwaroopam 2 after what happened to its predecessor. So, instead of waiting for its release, I moved on to Uttama Villain after Lingusamy and I spoke. I also agreed to do Papanasam , as it seemed like an interesting film.
Shooting for these films is over. In fact, shooting for Vishwaroopam 2 was over last October except for one song. Production delays have kept it waiting. Clearly, you can do as many pujas as you want when launching a film, but its fate ultimately isn’t decided by supernatural entities.
You are an atheist, are you not? It’s interesting that you ended Dasavatharam with ‘kadavul irundha nalla irukkum’ (it’d be a good thing if god existed)?
Let me just say I can exist without god; I cannot exist without people. The line was a compromise in a way. I believe that the true saints are those working in places like CERN. A person like Peter Higgs should probably be canonised by the Vatican. Those are the saints I worship.
Does atheism leave a void after death? Theists have the comfortable belief of knowing there’s life after death, perhaps even heaven.
Mortality doesn’t bother me. It’s a part of life, not apart from it. What’s a sentence without a full stop? In a way, Uttama Villain deals with a similar subject. You’ll know more about the similarity when you watch the film. I play an actor, and K. Balachander, my real life mentor, plays the same role in the film. The film is sort of my tribute to him.
What’s your motivation for continuing to make and act in films?
It’s a versatile medium, is it not? I really appreciate it. To be honest, I think it’s been 25 years since I last worked. Films just don’t feel like work any more. They remind me of the time I used to build pyramids with playing cards when I was a child. It’s a sense of personal achievement and it's fulfilling.
