Kamal Haasan as ‘Citizen K’: blockbuster or cult classic?

Kamal Haasan | @ikamalhaasan

It is too filmy to expect Haasan to waltz in and occupy political space. But what if he is not looking for a blockbuster, and prefers to make a niche film?

He called himself ‘Citizen K’, an understated reference to his position as a shareholder in this republic with a vote of one. But it was more than just a catchy line uttered by Kamal Haasan. There was an admirable candour and clarity about the fact that Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane was his inspiration; it was something no dialogue writer would have come up with.

His political journey seemed to begin earlier this year, when the iconic actor came up with a droll, made-for-TV comment equating jallikattu with biryani, asking why not ban cooking the bull if wrestling it was not permitted. That comment stirred the pot. A week later, protesters turned up on Chennai’s Marina Beach, in what would turn out to be one of most interesting public protests the state has seen in recent decades.

Over the next few months, Haasan threw his weight behind the protesters who faced the wrath of the Chennai Police, taunted the leaders of the ruling AIADMK – who were caught in a bitter factional feud – raised questions about probity in public life, and exhorted the people to ask questions to the leaders.

Thus began the wait for his imminent entry into politics. There were interludes during which he interacted with the media, political leaders, and organised a function on his birthday, where he gifted an app.

With nothing to study except his cryptic tweets, an analysis of his political strategy is an exercise in clairvoyance. Instead, let’s look at the context.

The most significant context is the death of former chief minister and AIADMK general secretary J. Jayalalithaa in December 2016. Like the fall of a big tree, it opened up the skies. The vivid and vibrant – even if chaotic – outburst brought about the massive jallikattu protests, and also speculations about the political entry of new faces.

Thanks to the umbilical link of the state’s politics with the film industry, the most anticipated announcement was to come from Rajinikanth. He was, after all, a hero in the M.G. Ramachandran mould – (feudal) philanthropy coupled with (cultivated) humility. Add the on-screen attributes of bravery, intelligence, sense of purpose, and piety, all at a larger-than-life scale, and he was a knight just one election away from the throne.

There were carefully choreographed interactions with his fans, brief but frequent TV bytes, and incessant rumours about a tango with his ‘friend’ Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who is keen to capitalise on the vacuum that Jaya left behind. BJP president Amit Shah postponing his visit twice fuelled the speculation further.

That is when Haasan expanded his cameo role into a more substantial left-of-centre character, markedly different from the right-of-centre Rajini. One, a self-proclaimed rationalist from the iconoclastic stable of Dravidar Kazhagam founder ‘Periyar’ E.V. Ramasamy; the other, the biggest icon of them all.

Many say Haasan deliberately stole Rajini’s thunder. The BJP state unit unleashed a virulent, often distasteful attack against Haasan over his personal life.

Now, what if he goes on to float a party?

First, the psephology. Evaluating Haasan’s chances at the hustings on the basis of what M.G. Ramachandran in Tamil Nadu and N.T. Rama Rao in erstwhile undivided Andhra Pradesh achieved defies common sense. It doesn’t factor in the social and economic changes in the intervening decades.

Since 1967, there broadly are two players in Tamil Nadu politics: the DMK, and a force to counter it. Ramachandran created this challenger with the launch of the AIADMK, and Jayalalithaa expanded this space to capture well over a third of the vote share.

The present AIADMK is a far cry from this peak, and its leaders are not helping with their petty squabbles, inept administration, and allegations of corruption. But it is too filmy to expect Haasan to waltz in, occupy the space, and capture power. Because that would require him to not just harness the majority of AIADMK votes, he would also have to negate the proven organisational experience of the DMK.

If that is not tough enough a task, add to it the delicate balancing act that is required to satisfy the Vanniar, Dalit, Thevar, Gounder, Nadar, and other community vote banks.

But what if he is not looking for a blockbuster, and instead prefers to make a niche film that could win over just 10 per cent of the viewers? Like Vijayakant did in the 2006 state election – winning one seat out of 232, and a little over eight per cent votes.

Even with those paltry numbers, his DMDK managed to secure more votes than the margin of victory at more than 140 seats, including 115 where the AIADMK squared off with the DMK directly. In the Lok Sabha polls of 2009, its vote share crossed over 10 per cent, enabling the party to play a spoilsport role, skewing the verdict at 25 of the 39 parliamentary seats. Two years later, DMDK chose to align with the AIADMK and emerged as the second biggest party, relegating the DMK to third spot.

The strategy of being an influential minority has its drawbacks, too. Just a decade since its impressive debut, DMDK won a meagre 2.4 per cent votes in 2016 assembly polls. That is the realm of irrelevance, the dreaded hell for any performer. Would Haasan and his potential voters be pleased with that?

Second, Haasan and Rajini exude the confidence of messiahs who know just what is required to set it all right for the masses – a combination of sincerity at the top, backed by earnest performance of the executive. It, however, is a leap of faith; delusional at best, destructive at its damaging worst.

The world of messiahs is a surreal one, where citizens are metamorphosed into fans and devotees. What they rob off democracy is its cornerstone, the fundamental principle: the will of the masses to be governed by their elected representatives.

Besides, messiahs often transform into Stalinists. A jallikattu-like protest was unthinkable when Jaya was reigning supreme.

Citizen K, like Citizen Kane, is a figure of larger-than-life grandeur, but always evinces in the viewer the feeling of the ‘hero’ being just one scandalous personal story away from political disaster. He should know that cult status is often not delivered as a windfall, but accrued over several reruns, many a time posthumously. That, however, is too long a timeframe in politics.

Gopu Mohan is a journalist and columnist.