The Legend Lives on : By Dr.S.Krishnaswamy

A tribute to the greatest actor and one of the great Tamilians that we all know of:

Sivaji Ganesan's voice and diction not only changed the course of dialogue delivery in Tamil films and plays, but also had a deep impact in the manner in which the language is spoken by narrators on Radio and Television.

ALTHOUGH WE are constantly aware that we are all mere mortals, we are unable to reconcile with the mortality of some people. ``Sivaji'' Ganesan is one such - an immortal in our minds.

``Long live Bharathan....'' blessed Rajaji, after the film ``Sampoorna Ramayanam'' was screened for him. Sivaji Ganesan had performed the role of Bharatan. Those brief words of Rajaji, who rarely watched films, were unconsciously pregnant with identical ideas of film historians and researchers on Tamil Cinema. ``In the desert of Tamil films, an actor by name Sivaji Ganesan is an oasis'', I had said, in my article on Tamil films for an American arts magazine in the 1970s. Earlier, Erik Barnouw and I, in the first edition of our book ``Indian Film'' (1963), had commented, ``Seldom has substantial talent been used more recklessly or profitably''. A world-class actor remained a regional star, essentially because the ethos of Tamil Cinema was never in the wavelength of world cinema - celebrated as the Seventh Art. But even a diehard enthusiast of realism in films, had to sit up and watch Sivaji. That one hand gesture of Bharatan, meaning ``lets go'', in ``Sampoorna Ramayanam'' is not merely etched in my memory, but has been adapted, and re-enacted by a hundred film actors, and even classical dancers on stage.

It was often worth spending the nearly three hours watching immature story lines and inept directorial handling, to experience those sparks of true genius of an inimitable actor - Sivaji. His performance was stylised - drawing from the immeasurable depth of India's racial memory of many millennia, from artistes of ancient Tamil and Sanskrit Theatre. This was often erroneously described or even criticised as ``over- acting''. Well, if your theme is melodrama, your performance has to match it. But Sivaji Ganesan's range and immense versatility, did not confine him to this stylised performance alone. He could challenge any actor of the realistic school, when the need, the story and character demanded it. His career's best performance (in my opinion) as V. O. Chidamabaram Pillai in ``Kappalottiya Thamizhan'', puts him on a pedestal among the all-time- greats of world cinema, as an actor. The biographical, which was well researched, gave him the scope to re-create the ambience, maintaining the integrity of character - the realistic human side of a great patriot of the Freedom Struggle.

In contrast however, many fans remember him for his melodramatic portrayal of Kattabomman. Although made by the same creative team which was responsible for the suave, artistic and authentic ``Kappalottiya Thamizhan'', ``Veerapandiya Kattabomman'' was historically far from accurate. It was more like a costume drama or a mythological. Sivaji's performance was in tune with that treatment. Even today, nearly four decades after the release of the film, when enthusiastic parents bring their children for audition to perform in our TV serials, the boys invariably deliver Sivaji's dialogue from ``Veerapandiya Kattabomman'' to demonstrate their histrionics. Sivaji Ganesan's voice and Tamil diction not only changed the course of dialogue delivery in Tamil films and plays, but also had a deep impact in the manner in which Tamil is spoken by narrators on Radio and Television.

Unique among the film styles of the world, song sequences in our films constitute an inheritance from ancient Indian theatre. There was indeed, no one to beat Sivaji in ``rendering'' the songs. Never for a moment would you feel that he was lip-wagging for the playback singer, since his gestures and mannerisms were emotive manifestations of consummate skill, artistry and flair, unlikely to be matched even by original singers.

Apart from the infrequent courtesy calls, I have had the privilege of talking in-depth to ``Nadigar Thilakam'' - as his fans reverentially called him - three times. First was my hour- long interview for the first edition of ``Indian Film'', in 1962; the second in the 1970s for a Bombay-based film magazine and the third for an American Academic journal in the 1980s. He has sometimes been described as one constantly wearing an actor's mask - that he conversed as though he was delivering a dialogue. On the contrary, at least some parts of my interactions with him revealed a simple, transparent personality. For instance, soon after his return from his first trip abroad (to America as an invited guest of that Government), I asked him ``How was America?'' He first said, ``You have studied there. What am I going to tell you about America?''

``I mean your own reactions - how did you enjoy the visit?'' I asked.

With hardly a moment of hesitation there was a sincere answer. ``First I was struck with wonder. Then I was uncomfortable and felt embarrassed. Gradually, I felt very happy'', and then he expanded, ``The first impression of wonder was with the sights which were beyond what I had imagined. I was then uncomfortable because, I felt I was just another face in the crowd. Having got used to the attention of my people back in Tamil Nadu, it was a strange embarrassment to walk in crowded streets without anyone taking a second look at me. Gradually, I felt it meant at the same time, a rare liberty to be myself. And I enjoyed that''. It was candid, childlike and unpretentious.

In another session, I asked him ``Do you feel that you are not being used to your fullest potential, because of the limitations of Tamil cinema?''

``I can put it this way. I want to function as a fountain pen. My ambience expects me to perform as a pencil. Sometimes this results in my writing as a ball-point pen'' he described, in graphic terms.

In 1986, I was addressing The Washington Institute for Values in the US Capital, on the subject ``Culture As Political Phenomena''. In the small group of high profile audience, a senator, surprisingly well-informed about India, asked, ``Why is your great actor Sivaji Ganesan not politically successful like your M.G. Ramachandran?''.

I quoted from the narration of my biographical TV documentary on MGR. My narration says, ``The MGR Phenomenon was an amalgam of fact and fiction, dream and reality. The only archetype character he performed in all his films was of a hero who combined in himself the strength of a Hercules, the modernity of a James Bond and the love and compassion of a Jesus Christ''. The political value of this ingenious image is unparalleled in the history of media.

On the contrary, Sivaji Ganesan was the last word in versatility, performing any role of any shade - often that of a tragic hero, the self-pitying brother, the negative womaniser of ``Thirumbipaar'', the treacherous foreign spy of ``Andha Naal''.

He performed these different roles as a true artiste, interpreting every shade of character with ingenuity, involvement and ``finesse''. There was no fusion of an off-screen image and an on-screen image, to create a political mascot. Hence Sivaji Ganesan's attempt to build a political brand-equity failed. It was certainly a price worth paying - for he will be remembered as one of the greatest actors of modern India.

In my ``MGR Phenomenon'' I had said, ``Although MGR was an actor by accident, he was a mature politician by deliberate choice''. It will be equally true to say, ``Although Sivaji Ganesan stumbled into politics, he was a born actor par excellence - a thespian of whom India will be eternally proud''.

Vazhga Engal Nadigar Thilagam