Why Balakrishna does what he does

I was watching a film last week, and it had Balakrishna in it.

I know the first line would elicit a smile from most people, but I do not intend to talk about the film as such.

The film was nothing spectacular. Balakrishna was not the main hero, but when he came on screen, he got the most whistles, claps and cheers. But since it was a Monday and there weren’t many people in the hall, I got to notice something interesting. In the scenes where Balakrishna comes on to the screen for the first time, the whistles and hoots were embedded into the background score of the film, which could act either as a cue to the audience, or heighten the cheering that was already going on in the cinema halls.

Balakrishna first comes out of the water, there is a close up of him looking into the eyes of the audience, and then he proceeds to run towards a mad elephant, jump over its tuskers, climb on top of its head, and calm it down by smashing its head with his bare fists.

If this was two years back, I would laugh my guts out.

At the sheer silliness of it all. How could a hero agree to do that on screen? And how can an audience accept that kind of illogical nonsense?

But now, I can see deeper than just the logic (or the lack of it) of the scene.

My roommate for two years is a huge Pavan Kalyan fan.

Since I have never been a big fan of any particular actor, it took me a little while to come to terms with it. I had known that actors enjoy superhuman status in the South, but I had never gotten to see it first-hand. In my opinion, all those people were just some semi-literate people who had nothing else to do in the morning, but to pour milk over an effigy of their favourite star.

I couldn’t be further from the truth.

Gabbar Singh was set to release in early May of 2012.

Over the two years, three films starring Pavan Kalyan had released – Puli, Teenmaar, and Panja.Over the two years, I watched as my friend changed his Desktop wallpaper, his dressing, his Facebook Display Picture, and his Playlist according to the film that released. Each time, the film had flopped, and I had seen his disappointment.

Over the two years, I had seen the excitement that goes with the morning of the release. Friends from abroad calling to inform about the ‘talk’ that the film has garnered there. Strangers, whose only connection with each other was their love for their favourite star, would sit together and talk at length about the film’s success, endless debates online about the film’s reviews, and dirty mud-slinging to defend the star – I had seen it all.

Over the two years, I was administered a healthy dose of the star’s greatness. I was told that he was a huge fan of Che Guevera, and a die-hard Communist at heart. I was told that he was the only person in the entire state with the balls to take up the biggest criminal in the state – Ravi, the one whose life Raktha Charitrais based on. I was told about his passion for fight scenes – that he is a trained Black Belt who has been choreographing his own fight scenes for more than a decade now.

And after all this, I watched him fail – film after film. And then Gabbar Singh released to packed houses!

I could feel the excitement that a fan would feel. In my mind, I had softened up to this person who was crusading in his own way to make cinema that would stand out against the tripe that others were making. When I watched the film, I smiled when he came on screen. That he was bashing up people twice his size didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was on screen. And when he looked at the camera and smiled, or danced, I could see why fans would go crazy.

A film star is more than a person who acts in films as a profession.

In Andhra Pradesh, a star has more than just control over the Box Office. The fan culture in Andhra Pradesh is deeply embedded into the lives of the fans due to two main reasons: the huge caste sentiments that still exist in the state, and the fact that acting is a dynastical role that is passed on from one generation to the other.

In some districts in Andhra Pradesh, people kill each other over fights about their favourite star. Since most of the film industry is dominated by producers and actors belonging to  higher castes, the communities in the area take up the work of fans as a caste-based activity. Balakrishna commands the loyalty of the upper caste communities in these areas. When I was doing a story about Krishnanagar (the hub of the film industry), I was told by struggling actors and directors that they were denied work simply because of their caste.

For the (I’m cringing here) lower castes, Pavan Kalyan, Chiranjeevi, and his son Ram Charan, are heroes. Supporting their favourite stars is no more about the film – it is an identity that they are proud of. That one of their own has taken on the other lions in their own den.

The second reason that I cited about the dynastical role of the Telugu film industry might not seem like much of a big deal, considering that it permeates most of our film industries. But scratch the surface and you will find that the industry is a feudal zamindari system, with some of the stars of today’s time being the third generation of actors in their families. Most of them can barely act, and without their genes, wouldn’t qualify as actors either based on their looks or their skills. But yet, they are given films, over and over again.

Forefathers are remembered through dialogues, references in the films, posters, and by paying tributes in terms of songs or scenes. Sometimes, the posters and opening credits contain references to their ancestors. Another trend that seems to have caught up these days is to have dialogues that will take potshots at other actors and their clans. It clearly is no more about the film. It is about the persona of the star. It is the manner in which the fans perceive him.

And come to think of it, while we may not all worship idols of our stars with milk before a release, we all allow a certain suspension of disbelief when it comes to our stars. How else can we accept a 45+ Shah Rukh Khan wooing a young Anushka Sharma. How else do we accept Sylvester Stallone winning a bout of boxing, over and over again, with opponents better skilled than him?

There is a string of similarity in the way stars are perceived the world over. They are looked up to, aspired at, and emulated.

It is definitely more than just making movies for a living.

And so when Pavan Kalyan came on screen, his head cocked to the side, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, I smiled.