There are directors who make their careers by belonging to a system, and there are those who come like a storm, sweeping everything in their wake. Mari Selvaraj is only two films in, but you can already feel the impact of an actor at work. His cinema is strong and informed in its politics as well as imaginative and compelling in its craft. His cinematic voice for the downtrodden, booming in its conviction and irresistible in its persuasion. He arrived with Pariyerum Perumal; he broke through with Karnan; and is now expected to expand the borders with Mother.
Here’s the director in conversation about his third film, which releases today:
Much has been said about your comments about Tevar Magan. You’ve said that your own views on cinema, including this film, have been reshaped over the years, based on your evolving understanding of society.
The decision to work in director Ram’s office changed my views on literature, cinema and society. If I had chosen to work with another person, I might have continued to be the star-struck child who was only interested in “commercial” cinema. When I watched movies like The 400 strokes and The Battle of Algiers, I began to see my life differently. I began to realize that my suffering was not happening in a vacuum; I saw that my life was inextricably linked with the Tamil society and its people. This realization drove me to create the art that I do. The success of art, mine or anyone else’s, does not depend on the number of people who experience it. It’s about what changes in them.
While the quality of your first two films, Pariyerum Perumal and Karnanprovides enough justification to feel excited Motheralso helps that you cast Vadivelu against type.
I’ve always associated him – and the innocence of his roles – with my app. You will see that my films will always be about the parent-child relationship. I can’t imagine a story that doesn’t explore that relationship. At a time when I had no friends, no social life, my appa and amma traveled with me, protected me, made sure I didn’t get into trouble… I didn’t realize it then, but now I see that they always radiated greatness. As a child I kept asking myself why my appa who was a therukoothu kalaignar, was not like other fathers, but now I realize that when my parents protected me at the cost of appearing meek, they were braver than I imagined. You see this quality manifest even in Pariyerum Perumal— when the main character realizes that true valor isn’t beating people up. It’s about empathy; it’s about integrity.
So you will know how much it means to me that Vadivelu is playing a version of my father. Consider the comedy bits he’s done. He suffers, cries, is beaten, neglected and trampled on, isolated… However, his reactions make us laugh. I’ve always seen him as one of us, an ordinary guy who gets the injustice. I might laugh, sure, but my tears weren’t entirely from laughter. I actually have a portrait of Vadivelu and Ilayaraja in my bedroom. I consider it a personal milestone to work on a film with him. in Motherhe suffers as always, but I have changed the way we react to it.
Was it difficult to extract a subtle performance from Vadivelu, given all the years of theatrics and over-the-top reactions?
Fortunately, I’m so attuned to his facial features that I can tame even the slightest excess in performance. Each actor, each individual has a unique nature. A good performance is when the actor reacts to a fictional situation as he or she would react in reality. For me, acting is not about transforming into another person. It’s about throwing yourself into unfamiliar situations and responding honestly. With Vadivelu I only had to differentiate it from its cinema version. I wanted to see the real Vadivelu.
Although your life has moved you from the village to the city, your films continue to be about rural life and the oppression there. Does city life not interest you that much, or are there simply too many stories from your village to tell?
I see no difference between the two. City dwellers continue to travel to their hometowns. Chennai can never be my home. To me, it’s like the school we went to as kids. We may spend a lot of time there, but it’s not home. No one can afford to avoid their rural origins. Even those who are born and die in the city need to reconnect with their roots at some point. This is why psycho thrillers in Tamil cinema do not impress me. It seems to me that our psychopaths and sociopaths come from European cinema after all. We have to dig into our layers. We need to reconnect with our origins.
Although I see immense political and artistic value in your films, some continue to dismiss your work as ‘caste cinema’. How should this simple dismissal be approached?
Each person has his own prism through which he experiences art. I shouldn’t forget that I too was prone to elementary conclusions, that I too experienced films through its stars, that I also fought over actors and threw stones at the screens. Patience is paramount when you make the movies I do. If Pariyerum Perumal and Karnan only transform a dozen people, that’s perfectly fine. Perhaps ten years down the line, that number may increase. If some sections reject my cinema without recognizing its craft value, I have to take it as a challenge. I need to learn to make my art more accessible. I need to put in more work to win over my detractors.
So you don’t get really frustrated when positive change doesn’t seem to happen quickly?
Not at all. So many well-intentioned leaders have fought for years at the expense of personal freedom and security. If they expected to see a quick change, they would lose heart. By comparison, my job is just making movies. Even if someone feels progressive only during my film, that is enough for me.
And then there are people who believe, based on their experience, that caste discrimination doesn’t really exist anymore.
There’s a world outside of my experience, right? My own exposure to world cinema, for example, is not even a decade old. If it’s true that we only connect with movies that resonate with our lives and experiences, why did I cry after watching them The 400 strokes? Why I spent a sleepless night after Hotels in Rwanda? I cannot make anyone else sympathize with the characters of my cinema. They should be interested in seeking such truth in the world. Art exists to fuel your desire to seek out and understand people and ideas you might otherwise never encounter or acknowledge. My life led me to director Ram who in turn opened the doors and windows of training for me. Perhaps something similar can happen to others as long as they are open to molding.
AR Rahman’s evocative song, ‘Jigu Jigu Rail’ is charmingly western for a village-set film like Maamannan.
Sir Rahman expected that he would have to make a similar album Kizhakku Cheemayile. He was surprised when I asked him for a piece that might sound a bit like Bob Marley’s Zion Train. I have always been aware that my stories are not intended only for those who are already familiar with them. I want someone in the US, China or Russia to experience and understand them too. Our most effective tool when communicating local stories to the world is music. Just like I like “Zion Train” so much, I believe someone somewhere will like “Jigu Jigu Rail” and Mother.
I also really enjoyed that memorable shot of Udayanidhi Stalin holding a piglet at the end of the trailer.
(Smiles) The pig is probably the most insulted creature in our society. I love him very much; my family raises pigs. I grew up with the pain of realizing that people branded us for raising pigs. People label you based on the animals you live with. They associate their opinion of a pig with their opinion of someone who raises it. The pig, like all other animals, is a regal, far from docile creature in the wild. We have domesticated, controlled, and eradicated the true qualities of many animals for our benefit—and now we insult them for being pale versions of what they once were. For me, the eyes of different animals speak volumes. That’s why I use them often in my cinema – be it the dog Pariyerum Perumal or the donkey in Karnan. Mother is actually a story about pigs.