part0012

In Tamil Nadu, ideologues, writers and artistes of the Dravidian movement used theatre for both propaganda and fund-raising. While production of films declined to an all time low during the war years, drama flourished, providing opportunities for many aspiring playwrights. A lieutenant of E V Ramasamy Naicker in the Self-respect movement,
C N Annadurai, who later became the chief of Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) and then the chief minister of Tamil Nadu in 1967, wrote the play Moon Rise/Chandrodhayam which was staged in 1943. This play, with both Annadurai and M Karunanidhi, who later succeeded Annadurai as chief minister of Tamil Nadu, in the cast, was used extensively for propaganda. The stage came handy as a tool for political propaganda when the Dravida Kazhagam (DK) was formed in 1944. A play was often the highlight of DK conferences; many leaders in the movement routinely tried their hand at writing for theatre.

Some of these writers who aspired to work in films joined the story department at Modern Theatres in Salem which served as a kind of school for dialogue writers.1 It was here that Bharathidasan, a Dravida Kazhagam sympathiser, made his mark as a dialogue writer for films. He wrote the dialogues for many films including Subadhra (1945) and set an example for other writers from the movement to emulate. These writers from the Dravidian movement worked in a number of films in the Fifties, films which can be described as the cinema of dissent: they were iconoclastic and radical towards certain traditional practices and beliefs. As one film historian put it, ‘A cinema of dissent or disengagement makes comments no less revealing than one which whole-heartedly endorses the standards of its society.’2 These films deserve a closer look for this reason.

Inspired by Frank Capra’s Mr.Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Annadurai wrote the story and dialogue for Nallathambi (1949) and made a momentous entry into the film world. The original story by playwright Robert Riskin, set in the Depression years in America, suggested that the rich should share their wealth, with the poor.3 This motif came in handy for some radical rhetoric in Nallathambi. Annadurai had already earned his reputation as a playwright through a successful play titled, Servant Maid/Velaikari. The basic idea for the play was taken from a newspaper report about a devotee in Sylhet, who, disappointed at his prayers remaining unanswered, had damaged a statue of the goddess Kali.4 Jupiter Pictures of Coimbatore, with a shrewd eye on the market, observed the full houses this play was drawing and decided to turn it into a film called Velaikari (1952). The hero Anandan, a devotee of Kali, returns from Sri Lanka to find his father hanging from a tree, victimised by his landlord’s greed. He sets about planning revenge. This film’s appeal lay in its rationalistic rhetoric and anti-priesthood slant.

Annadurai was an inveterate filmgoer and was much influenced by American films of that period. At the time, Hollywood films were going through a phase in which the spoken word was given importance, with pithy repartee and witticisms serving to entertain the audience. Robert Riskin’s dialogue in It Happened One Night (English, 1934)5 is a well-known example of this emphasis. Films for which Annadurai wrote dialogues stressed on the spoken word rather than dramatic action, reflecting the Hollywood trend of that time. Some sequences in Velaikari were modelled on those in The Count of Monte Cristo (English, 1934) and even had an identical sequence in which the hero Dantes, before escaping from prison and avenging himself on those who framed him, writes down his scheme of revenge chapter by chapter. Similarly the climactic court scene in which Anandan comes disguised as a lawyer was inspired by the film, The Life of Emile Zola (1937) starring the great actor, Paul Muni; even the hero’s make-up was closely imitated.6

Rouben Mamoulian’s film, Queen Christina (1935) in which a queen in seventeenth century Sweden, while trying to avoid a marriage she does not fancy, wanders around disguised as a male and falls in love with a man of her choice— inspired another film, The Gateway to Heaven/Sorgavasal (1954), written by Annadurai. This film, set against the backdrop of the spread of Buddhism in ancient Tamil Nadu, preaches rationalism and rails against ritualism and commercialisation of religious activities. Gas Light (English, 1944), another Hollywood film, whose hero inflicts mental cruelty on his wife in order to drive her insane, inspired Annadurai’s novel Rangoon Radha which was later made into a film
in 1956.7

Many other writers from the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam entered the glittering world of cinema. A V P Asaithambi wrote the dialogues for The Dictator/ Sarvadhikari (1951). M Karunanidhi, who had earlier worked as a dialogue-writer in some films without being credited for it, wrote for The Princess of Maruda Country/Marudanatttu Ilavarasi (1950); but it was The Goddess/Parasakthi (1952), adapted from a popular play, that brought him acclaim as a dialogue-writer. He became much sought after and soon acquired a star status. The producers realized that the radical rhetoric and the elegant prose of these writers was a saleable commodity among Tamil audiences and were therefore hired as dialogue writers.

It is worth noting however that writers of the Dravidian movement were only employed as dialogue writers; control over a film remained with the director and the producer. When Nallathambi was under production, N S Krishnan, who played the lead, changed the story and Annadurai, the writer, though piqued, was in no position to resist.8 The writer’s job was to supply the lines; he exercised no control over the narrative sequences or visuals. He did not write the screenplay or shooting-script, but merely the dialogues.

While plays which met with popular success during conferences of the Dravidian movement were filmed, most of the radical content was jettisoned. The producers were theists; and they were wary of stretching the radical element too far and alienating the audience. Moreover, more money was at stake in a film than in a play. S K Mohideen and K Somasundaram, owners of Jupiter Pictures, were both believers and refused to allow any atheistic ideas in their film Velaikari as was its director, A S A Swamy, who was a devout Catholic. In fact, the anti-religious elements of the original play were greatly watered down when it was made into a film. K A Perumal, owner of National Pictures which produced Parasakthi, ensured that the first day’s shooting began with a traditional puja. On another occasion, during the making of Poongothai (1953), when the Regional Film Censor Officer Stalin Srinivasan, pointed out that some scenes were likely to be perceived as anti-religious, Perumal readily agreed to remove them.

The visuals of this school of films were also organized in a way that ensured such a dilution. In Velaikari, the climactic scene where Anandan raves in the temple of Kali and goes to sit resignedly outside is immediately followed by another in which the solution to his problems offers itself, providentially as it were. Observing this, Kalki who was a conservative writer, approvingly titled his review of the film “The Grace of Kali”.10 The last sequence in this film is a wedding scene. The camera tilts up to a “welcome” signboard above the entrance to the wedding pandal which carries the legend ‘There is only one God and only one community’, as though intending to clarify the doubts of sceptics among the viewers. This reassuring message was the director’s idea.11

In Parasakthi, when the priest tries to molest Kalyani inside the temple, she appeals to the goddess. The next shot shows the temple attendant, woken from his siesta by her cries, ringing the bell frantically; the priest releases Kalyani. The shots were edited in such a way as to make it seem that the bell was rung in answer to Kalyani’s cries for help. This was clearly the idea of the directors, Krishnan and Panju.12

It has been argued by scholars that what was finally internalized and accepted by the audience, was not the radical ideas of these films but the cultural definition of what it meant to be a Tamil.13 This view is supported by the success of many films with a heavy dose of religion that swept the box office, even as the films, of dialogue writers from the Dravidian movement were proving to be popular. Avvaiyar and Gunasundari (1955) are examples of successful films with an overt religious content.

Although the dialogue writers criticized social evils through the cast of characters, they did not suggest any agenda of political reform. They typically played the role of a gadfly attacking the establishment without offering an alternative political or economic ideology. It must be pointed out that this group of writers wrote the dialogue for scores of films and only a few are remembered for such rhetoric. Even these reformist ideas were not woven into the story but were merely spouted by the characters. Therefore, situational opportunities were contrived in a film where a character could be given scope for delivering long monologues, a courtroom scene, for instance. In many films written by this group, the courtroom scene was indeed the high point. This was so in Parasakthi, Velaikari, Manohara (1954) and The Minister’s Daughter/Mandhirikumari (1950). Sometimes, a play-within-the-film was introduced to provide scope for some preachy monologues; the Socrates play in King and Queen/Rajarani (1956) written by M Karunanidhi, or Samrat Asokan drama in the film Mother’s Command/ Annaiyin Anai (1958) written by Murasoli Maran, are examples. The ability to “deliver” these long monologues clearly and intensely was highly desirable in an artiste. Sivaji Ganesan’s performance in these “dialogue heavy” sequences was acclaimed as one of his special talents.

Most of the other films written by this group had ordinary run-of-the-mill plots, in careful conformity with the existing beliefs and mores of the audience; as evident in Treasure Trove/Pudhaiyal (1957) written by M Karunanidhi. Kannadasan wrote the dialogue for films such as The Soldier of Madurai/Madurai Veeran, a folklore story and Rama of Tenali/Tenaliraman, the story of the legendary jester at the court of the Vijayanagar emperor, Krishnadevaraya, both made in 1956. However, in the dialogue, an occasional anti-establishment jibe was included, as in Annadurai’s A Honest Man will Prosper/Nallavan Vazhvan (1961).

The films in which dialogue predominated were very stagy, with eye-level shots and horizontal exits and entries. Characters looked directly into the camera and delivered their lines.14 The importance given to the spoken word tended to eliminate camera mobility and rendered the performance immobile. The capability of the camera to see from different angles and the consequent plasticity of cinema was not used in these films because of the importance given to spoken words. For the same reason, it was difficult for these filmmakers to get at the essence of the medium of cinema.15 There was this preoccupation with just one aspect of cinema: speech. Cinema was largely perceived in literary terms. In fact, the dialogues of a few of these films were published in book form which sold well. Thus cinema, as handled in these films, was almost like an extension of literature, instead of belonging to its own realm.16

The popularity of rhetoric in films, which came into vogue in the early Fifties, lasted only a decade; its novelty then wore off. By then, these dialogue writers had earned enough fame and money to produce their own movies.
A K Velan, A V P Asaithambi, Kannadasan, Rama Arangannal and Neelanarayanan all founded their own film companies and produced movies that were noticeably free from reformist propaganda. In the meantime, there was a significant development. The Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, an offshoot of the earlier Dravida Kazhagam, decided to enter the electoral fray: and it was on guard against alienating any section of the voters by attacking their beliefs or values. As a result, the films they made at this point in time proffered entertainment with an eye on the box-office.

The early Fifties registered an unprecedented boom in production. The end of the war and the lifting of wartime restrictions facilitated an expansion of the industry. While in 1946, only sixteen films were made, the figure went up to thirty-six in 1953. During these years, in Tamil Nadu, the rural electrification programme widened the market for films and took cinema to the interior regions. The number of movie-goers increased manifold, creating a demand for more films. It was at this time that dialogue writers, and later actors, from the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam consolidated their respective positions.

4. E V K Sampath interviewed by the author in Madras, 3 April 1975. The atheistic propaganda in the film created a lot of controversy. Two ministers of the Government of Madras viewed the film before it was cleared for exhibition. Kalki, Kalaichelvam, (Madras, Bharathi Pathippagam, 1959).

6. Alfred Dreyfus, a Jewish officer of the French Army, was accused of spying for the Germans and sentenced to long term imprisonment in an island. Many intellectuals, who believed that it was a case of anti-semitic prejudice, took up his cause which led to his acquittal in 1906. He died in 1935. Paul Muni played Emile Zola, the nineteenth century French novelist, who supported Dreyfus. The film won 3 Academy Awards.

16. The tendency to look at cinema from literary point of view still persists. A cinema-related topic for Ph.D. or M.Phil degrees is quite popular in the Tamil language departments of the universities in Tamil Nadu, while the subject ought to come under the department of media studies, sociology or anthropology, if not of cinema studies.