Remembering Raghuvaran

It’s funny how some actors become such an integral part of our lives, growing up.  You get used to their voice, their smile, their mannerisms and above all, a certain aura that they possess.  I have always been an incurable cinema fanatic.  But over the years, I would like to think that I developed a taste for things that are rooted in reality.  Sure, I do continue to enjoy well-made masala fantasies but where my heart truly lies as a moviegoer is in cinema where the creator’s lens that was intended to capture the lives of the characters also doubles up as a mirror that makes me view myself and the world I live in with a little more acuity.  

A lot of people remember Raghuvaran as the unforgettable villain from many a memorable movie.  As a villain, he was absolutely terrifying.  Those performances were the result of his uniqueness, which came from his expert understanding and use of silences, voice modulation, expressions and body language.   I still watch in awe the interview scene from “Mudhalvan” (where he may have lost the CM post but simply stole the show!) or the famous “I know…I know…” sequence from “Puriyadha Pudhir.”  But those were still performances.  Performances that were played in a way that was absolutely right in terms of pitch for the kind of dramas or melodramas that they were a part of.  But the Raghuvaran that I remember is that controlled performer, who brought tremendous depth, dignity and nuance to some well-written but tough-to-play characters.  His parts in “Anjali”, “Thotta Chinungi”, “Aaha”, “Thulli Thirindha Kaalam” (the flashback portions), “Mugavari” and “Yaaradi Nee Mohini” are the kind of roles that etched him indelibly in my mind even now, eight years after his untimely death.*

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia

Tall, lanky and blessed with powerful eyes, Raghuvaran cut a dashing figure.  He used his physicality in a way that very few performers did.  He had tremendous control over his body language and knew how to do just enough with his body and voice to create an august presence.  Take for instance the climactic portion of “Aaha.”  He is simply tremendous in this scene.  He plays a character that has made some questionable decisions in a relationship outside of his marriage.  (The movie very intelligently leaves it to us to determine whether the relationship is platonic or is an affair.)  But start watching at the 2 hr 34 min point of the video below.  In explaining his stance (starting at the 2:35:50 point), he does a splendid job of making us understand the reasons for the character’s supposed imperfections.  Just note the way he delivers the line, “She’s no more, pa.”  Absolutely lovely and invested with a kind of emotion that's so...Raghuvaran-ish!  It is in roles such as this one and the one in “Thotta Chinungi” where he played human characters - replete with strengths and imperfections - where he was absolutely a class apart.  With his rich repertoire, he was a showcase for everyday ‘heroes,’ the ones that were the fruit of the discerning mind’s labor, not of fantastic imaginations. 

The other reason why I absolutely adored Raghuvaran’s roles that had more shades of white than black was the way he played the scenes where he transforms the outlook of other characters.  For a moment, I resisted the word ‘advice’ since it sometimes carries unfavorable connotations in thamizh cinema!  But in movies like “Anjali” and “Mugavari,” Raghuvaran did a marvelous job of narrating stories or offering advice in a way that didn’t sound like a tiresome sermon and instead, sounded like the words of a wise, well-meaning soul.  In fact, of the number of times I have been to a theater, not once have I seen a crowd hoot or holler when Raghuvaran played a straight scene like the one below (it starts at 1:10) from “Mugavari.”  Usually, there was stunned silence.  And that was probably the result of that ‘aura’ that I mentioned earlier. 

It may sound like exaggeration but the people that know me know that this is absolutely true.  But the fact is that I genuinely miss Raghuvaran even though I never knew him personally.  Whenever I happen upon a scene of his on TV, my comment is usually along the lines of, “Anyaayama poitaan.”  You could say that it’s because I take movies way too seriously.  But it is also possible that he made a lasting impact.  Sometimes these actors have a way of sneaking up your subconscious in your formative years and staying there.  I think with the aforementioned roles and the way he played them, Raghuvaran did just that.  I guess that’s why people get comfort out of the immortality that the silver screen bestows upon the departed.  So, thank you, cinema.  And, miss you, Raghuvaran. 

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*PS - I have read quite a bit about his problems with alcohol addiction.  Well, what can I say except that I wish he had recovered from his addictions to live a longer life.  :)

*PS #2 - my sister suggested that this post will be incomplete without at least one of these videos.  So, here you go, Minnu!  (Readers - she's such an admirer of Raghuvaran that my phone plays the interview scene music when she calls!)