A CONNOISSEUR OF LIFE

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M. Natarajan was more at home in a seminar on poetry, an art exhibition or a music concert. His heart was not in the business world, shares J. VASANTHAN while talking about one of his close friends.


MY FRIEND, M. Natarajan, liked to call himself Madurai Natarajan, though the initial 'M' before his name had nothing to do with Madurai. He probably loved Madurai for the Meenakshi temple, the Mahal, the Jain caves and theold palaces. He was a great connoisseur of art, music, literature, theatre and films. He was a businessman and was entrusted with his family business. But he was more at home in a seminar on poetry, an art exhibition or a music concert. His heart was not in the business world.

He had an ancient model of a French car, which his friends called Pushpa -because it had to be pushed to make it start. Later he bought a Baby Austin, which was not any better on the go than Pushpa. Natarajan and I travelled the length and breadth of our State in this car, visiting temples that were noted for their artistic excellence. We went up the tower of the big temple in Thanjavur to see the Chola paintings on the inner walls. Thirumalai Naicker's artists had done some paintings over these, defacing many priceless treasures.

Experts from the Archaeological Survey were gently peeling off the pedestrian efforts of the later artists to reveal the rich hues and compositions of the Chola period. We stood transfixed before these art treasures until we were told to move on.

We visited Sithannavasal to see the ceiling painted with cartoon-like figures. There were a few ducks in these paintings that had a strong resemblance to Donald. We stopped wherever there was some good piece of art to look at. Sometimes the Austin stopped on its own. And then it was push-time. Once the front wheels turned in opposite directions. I had to get down and kick one of the tyres until it turned to match its companion. I kicked it all the way from a nearby village to Trichy town where we found a mechanic.

After he disposed off the Austin, we went about on a Jawa motorcycle that I had bought. We made it a point to attend the Thiruvaiyaaru music festival every year.

Natarajan enjoyed Western classical music too. He loved Bethoven, Bach and Mozart. The silence of Narimedu at night was sometimes broken by Bethoven's Fifth Symphony or Bach's Air for G String as Natarajan relaxed after his day's work. He had a good collection of EP and LP records and an antique gramophone. This was, of course, before the days of the tape deck.

His drawing room was adorned by two original paintings of K.C.S. Paniker and a very good reproduction of Botticelli's Venus. This was his favourite painting. He gave an explanation for his preference. Botticelli's Venus had three curves - that is, the head slanted in one direction, the torso in another, and the legs again slanting away in another direction. This was very much like the female figures in our temples. Usually there were only two curves in Western paintings of women. The extra curve gave exceptional grace and beauty to the figure.

Natarajan liked the Impressionists too, Manet and Renoir in particular. He loved the cartoons of David Low and the drawings of Aubrey Beardsley, who illustrated Oscar Wilde's works. At that time I was drawing a series of cartoons and caricatures for Shankar's Weekly, Star & Style and Filmfare. Natarjan used to study them carefully and give his comments.

There was no facile praise, but merit was knowledgeably recognized. When he wanted to bring out two volumes of his poems he was particular that I should illustrate them. The first one was entitled `Idhayathai Urithu (Peeling the Heart)'.

He insisted that I should do a few nude figures for this. The printers in Sivakasi were shocked out of their wits when they saw the drawings, but went on with furtive looks to carry out the print order. Neither the poems nor the drawings had any great merit. But many appreciated the boldness of the concept.

The next book, `Kaadhalum Kaantha Iyalum (Love and Magnetism)' was much better in quality. The drawings came out well too. And some literary magazines wrote glowing reviews of the book. Since he didn't have much time to read as many books as he would have liked to, he devised a method of acquiring knowledge through conversation. Thus the latest economic theories were extracted from the eminent professor of Economics, G.Devarajan, who was also well-versed in Carnatic music.

Natarajan found an expert for each one of his interests and drew them forth by intelligent, and sometimes provocative questions. Natarajan admired the writings of Jayakanthan very much. When Jayakanthan proposed to make a film, `Unnaippol Oruvan', Natarajan was one of the volunteers to finance the film. When I started a drama group called Curtain Club, Natarajan was a regular patron, and stood by me in my endeavours. We performed Becket's `Waiting for Godot' at the Music Academy in Chennai. Natarajan made a trip there just to see the play.

He loved the early films of Hollywood. One of his all-time favourites was Disney's 'Fantasia'. When I managed to get a video-cassette of this film, he sat glued to the TV screen, and all the king's men and all the king's horses couldn't drag him away. Buster Keaton, the silent film comedian, was another of his favourites.

Natarajan loved all good things in life, and had a refined taste. The time he spent in aesthetic pursuits took its toll on his business. Towards the end of his life he was in dire straits. But he continued to read, listen to music, and discuss art and literature with like-minded friends till his last days. The end came about ten years ago when he was in his early seventies.

(The author of this article can be contacted by e-mail: jvasanthan@sancharnet.in)

© Copyright 2000 - 2008 The Hindu

THIS TIME IT WAS FOR REAL

This time it was for real

Death was always impressive when Marlon Brando interpreted it, says J. Vasanthan


THE first Marlon Brando film we saw in Madurai was "A Streetcar Named Desire" (1951). This was his second film. His first, titled "The Men" (1950) came here many years later.

Streetcar, based on a play by Tennessee Williams, presented Brando as Stanley Kowalski, an uncouth roughneck always lounging around in his vest and forever displaying bad manners and a sour temper, but exuding a strong masculine aura. After dinner one night his wife (Kim Hunter) starts clearing the table, and says, "You clear your end of the table." Brando knocks the crockery down to the floor with a swipe of his arm and says "I've cleared it." The film was the first in the genre that came to be known as kitchen-sink romances. An ageing Vivien Leigh (heroine of "Gone With the Wind") played a tragic role in the film.

The next film we saw was "Julius Caesar" (1953) in which Brando played Marc Antony. Julius Caesar was a text for us in the Intermediate course. The high point in the play of course was Antony's oration. In the classroom we had heard it delivered in measured professorial cadences. It went something like this: "Friends (pause), Romans (pause), Countrymen (long pause), Lend me your ears" and so on. So when we heard Brando shouting out the opening sentences hastily, the words coming tumbling over one another, we dismissed it as an American's ignorance of the Shakespearean style.

But later, after seeing it many times and reading about it, we realized that Brando's version was right. After all, he had been coached for the role by none other than Laurence Olivier, generally acknowledged to be the greatest Shakespearean actor of the Century. The Roman crowd is hostile and scattering off after Brutus' speech. Antony had to grab their attention by yelling and quickly telling them he had come only to bury Caesar, not to praise him. And grab them he certainly did. The film (and Brando's performance) grew on us as we saw it again and again.

Marlon Brando was trained in the Actor's Studio of Lee Strasberg in New York. His coach there was Stella Adler, a pupil of the great Stanislavski. The acting style taught by Adler was known as `method acting'. The method actor adds his own sub-text to the script, incorporating actual incidents from his life. When he speaks the lines in the script, he is actually thinking about the sub-text. Thus subtle feelings are displayed on screen. Method acting is an art that conceals art. The effect is there, but the technique is not seen.

Brando also took a lot of pains to prepare himself for every role. In "The Men", he had to play an army lieutenant whose spine had been smashed. Since he had no idea about what it felt like to be confined to a wheelchair, he asked to be admitted to a Veterans' Hospital in California as a paralysed veteran. He spent a few weeks there in a wheelchair until he felt he was ready for the role.

While acting in "On The Waterfront" (1954), he spent many days in a dockyard to get a feel of life there. The film was a landmark of sorts, and Brando won his first Oscar for it. "Roll up all the Oscars including mine and hand them over to Brando," said Humphrey Bogart. Brando's staggering, stumbling walk in the last scene is justly celebrated as a classic cinematic moment. And his scenes with another method actor, Rod Steiger, are frequently screened for acting students in film institutes all over the world.

Brando continued experimenting in acting styles throughout his career. In "The Godfather" (1972), he put tissue paper between his gums and cheeks, altering the shape of his face and slurring his speech. In "The Freshman" (1990), the main light was placed directly above his head, thereby placing most of his face in shadow. The full play of light was on his hands and he used them effectively to convey various shades of meaning.

This excessive concentration on his own acting sometimes created a confrontation with the director. He shaved his head for "Apocalypse Now" (1979) without informing the director, Francis Ford Coppola. The director was persuaded to accept Brando's new appearance. But in another film, "The Countess from Hong Kong" (1967), he clashed with the director, Charlie Chaplin. Both were highly individualistic personalities, and their discord reflected on the quality of the film. Both agreed that the film was a disaster.


Brando was ill-suited to play conventional roles. The less talented Clark Gable was a better Fletcher Christian in the original version of "Mutiny on the Bounty" than Brando in the remake. When Brando sang and danced in "Guys and Dolls" (1955) one was painfully aware of the fact that he wasn't a patch on Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly.

A great advantage that Brando had as an actor was the easy adaptability of his face to different roles. Make-up artists were surprised to find that they had very little to do for converting Marlon into Napoleon Bonaparte in the film "Desiree" (1954). In "The Teahouse of the August Moon" (1956), a little touching up of the eyes transformed him into a Japanese. The way he squatted and moved about mincingly made the illusion complete.

He was a master of the death scene, finding various methods of dying to create an awesome effect. In "Viva Zapata" (1952), a number of people shoot at him and he crumbles slowly, diminishing into a heap beneath his sombrero, which seems to conceal his whole body. In "The Young Lions" (1958) he plays a Nazi officer, and when he is shot he tumbles down a slope and comes to rest on the branch of a tree in a pose resembling a lion in repose.

In "Queimada" (1969) his leg buckles under him and he sinks to a prone position, and then we hear the gunshot, since light travels faster than sound. Death was always impressive when Marlon Brando interpreted it.

He died on the first of this month. This time it was for real.

(The author of this article can be contacted at the E-mail:jvasanthan@sancharnet.in)

© Copyright 2000 - 2008 The Hindu