The Cinematic Side of Manikkodi

-- by S Muthuvel

I recently read the book Manikkodi Kalam by B.S. Ramaiah, and also leafed through (roughly) 40 issues of Manikkodi magazine published between 1936 and 1939. The periodical’s history has been covered before in the writings of those like A. R. Venkatachalapathy and others. These days, Manikkodi is pegged as a serious, literary magazine. To clear the misconception, writer Kadarkarai has brought out a small book titled Manikkodi Cinema, showcasing the magazine’s cinema and film coverage.

Apart from including a few film reviews and advertisements, he has also written an extensive report that contains a few references to cinema. The issues of Manikkodi have also been released as a compilation; however, this work does not contain pages related to cinema. This article is the outcome of a chance opportunity which allowed the author to read some of the film-related content the magazine published.

It was only in 1935 that Tamil cinema got its first dedicated publication by way of Cinema Ulagam. Before its advent, the English Sound and Shadow brought out content related to films; however, I have not been able to get my hands on intact issues of the publication. Periodicals predating these simply never paid much attention to the tinsel world. Film content largely found space only in popular dailies and miscellaneous trade magazines that had a considerable reader base.

The English daily The Hindu and Ananda Vikatan are noteworthy examples. Access to such archives has not been easy, and the case remains the same even today. On the contrary, one finds only short bulletins, and that too on foreign websites. When it comes to cinema, magazines like Oozhiyan, Kumaran and Swadesamitran are particularly significant. Even so, opportunities are scarce to glean information about Tamil cinema up until the year 1934. Under the circumstances, Manikkodi offers a good opportunity to examine cinema news and evidence. “Each issue has no less than three pages of promotional content,” says Ramaiah. The advertisements included those for cinema, gramophone and trade. 

Manikkodi was launched in 1933, and cinema content began to be featured in its pages since 1934. The staff at Manikkodi earned a reputation as modern literati and were regarded as idealistic writers. Tamil cinema has been criticized by intellectuals of every period; in fact, this has been the case since it came into being. The intention, of course, is to help it shed its defects and progress as an art form. At the same time, these intellectuals – since the time of Manikkodi until now – also take on work in the film industry they find fault with.

At the start of the 1930s, it was rare for movie stills to be featured in film advertisements, which were largely composed of plain text. Magazines like Manikkodi, which operated in times of economic hardship, had to craft blocks to print pictures in their pages. The production of images on demand was available only to newspapers that had access to the modern technology of the day, as well as ample funds.

B.S. Ramaiah.

B.S. Ramaiah, who initially joined the Manikkodi staff as an advertisement hawker, later became the magazine’s managing editor and ran it as a publication that carried short stories. I read his book Manikkodi Kalam because I wanted information on many things – the history of the cinema advertisements carried in the magazine, the film companies that bought the ads, the print technology of the era, the writers who published under pseudonyms and so on. Ramaiah wrote film and drama reviews under the pen name ‘Sanjayan.’

It is written how some of the staff at Manikkodi saw the Greta Garbo starrer Queen Christina at the erstwhile Roxy theatre in Purasawalkam; and also how the team saw, in 1935, the AVM-produced Ratnavali at Gaiety. There are also references to short encounters with N.S. Krishnan and Erode Kalidas Seth, the latter being a film producer. I write this into record hoping that my fellow researchers will find the information useful. In fact, this excellent book is a must-read for writers, poets and journalists, too. 

Manikkodi magazine.

Manikkodi’s Film Connect

The film Sri Ramanujar was released in 1938. Calling it a Manikkodi film wouldn’t be too far off the mark. The dialogues were written by Va. Ramaswamy Iyengar (a.k.a Va. Ra) who served as the editor and writer of Manikkodi and several other publications. (Va. Ra later went on to take charge as the managing editor of Bharata Devi, a magazine that came after Manikkodi; he wrote film reviews illustrated with cinematic stills for the publication.)

A promotional snippet for Sri Ramanujar.

Sangu Subramaniam.

The cast of Sri Ramanujar also included many actors who were connected with Manikkodi – art reviewer Na. Ramaratnam (who also served as the sub-editor of Dinamani); Sangu Subramaniam (who ran the publication Sunthanthira Sangu); and Na. Pichchamurthi. The Chellappa mentioned in the cast list is not Si. Su. Chellappa; similarly, the R. Sundararajan who appears there is not Pe. Ko. Sundararajan, the writer popularly known as Chitti. In fact, the film had only a couple of professional actors such as Puliyoor Duraisami Ayya and T.S. Krishnaveni. The rest were all writers and patriots. Many of the crew were at one point incarcerated for the national cause, including the film’s producer Seethalakshmi. The film was produced by Yessel Film Company.

Sri Ramanujar centered on the temple entry movement that sought to uphold the rights of the oppressed. It was around the same time that the Telugu film Mala Pilla was released; it carried similar themes of social justice as well. Sri Ramanujar is said to be the first Tamil film with a social message, though this is an unsupported claim. The movie is preceded by silent films and talkies that brought to screen the story of Nandanar; social films like Harijana Penn and Harijan Singam had also been released by then. It is a fact, however, that Sri Ramanujar is distinguished as the first film to screen the story of the Thirukulathar Temple Entry Movement. 

Why choose the tale of Ramanujar? The well-read crew needed a tale to support the story they wished to bring to life, one that strengthened the contemporary social message they had in mind. But why choose Ramanujar, whose story was already quite well-known? It was the social environment of the day that spurred these Gandhian reformers to do so. After all, these perspectives may have been more palatable to the public when presented through the lens of a saint as Ramanujar who, according to the story, was an incarnation of divine Adisesha. He shunned his own wife when she practiced untouchability towards his guru Thirukachi Nambi on account of the latter being a Sudra. Ramanujar stressed that Vaishnavism sees all as equal, and in fact led the temple entry movement that fought for the oppressed.

Bharatidasan.

The song lyrics were written by Bharatidasan. “The credit for discovering Bharatidasan goes to Manikkodi,” writes Ramaiah. It was Va. Ra who introduced Bharatidasan to cinema. Writer Vamanan also attests that the celebrated Tamil poet made an entry into the world of films with Sri Ramanujar. However, the records list it as his second film because Balamani or the Bhagdad Thief was released in 1937, a year before Sri Ramanujar. The earliest available stills from Sri Ramanujar date to late 1937, but the film itself was released around September 1938.

The celebrated pioneer A. Narayanan directed the film; Srimathi Meenakshi Narayanan took charge of sound recording; and the film was shot at A. Naraynan’s Sound City at Chennai city. There is no documentation with reference to the music director; Ramaiah writes that Sangu Subramaniam himself set Bharathiar’sworks to music. 

Sri Ramanujar was a commercial failure. It is apparent that there was neither much advertisement nor a significant number of screenings for the film. Considering the social norms of the time, it can be argued that the film’s message had little chance of receiving wide acceptance across social groups. A piece in the magazine Janashakthi had nothing but praises for the film. Kalki’s review remarks that though the intention was appreciable, the film itself contained many flaws since most of the cast and crew had little professional experience in cinema. This criticism came even though Kalki had a personal connect with the Manikkodi team. In fact, Na Ramaratnam – a celebrated reviewer in his own right – dubbed the film an ‘eyesore,’ even though he had acted in it,too. As there were no recording facilities to capture the work of background singers, the actors had to sing in their own voices. The music, it seems, fell short of expectations. 

Tamil Cinema Varalaru.

The staff at Manikkodi responded to these reviews thus: 

“Recently released was Sri Ramanujar, a film in which several patriots and journalists have acted. It has been widely criticized, arguably far more than it deserves. Even those publications that normally conduct an objective analysis have fixed it with a censorious eye. They have pulled apart and skewered the film in their reviews.”

If Sri Ramanujar had achieved commercial success, the crew may have perhaps gone on to make other films. Even though it was a flawed production, the failure of Sri Ramanujar – helmed as it was by ambitious intellectuals of the time – is an event that deserves further investigation. 

Many writers and other staff associated with Manikkodi later went on to work in cinema. In fact, an advertisement in Manikkodi makes mention of another cinema publication run by the same team as Manikkodi, titled Cinema Jothi. Puthumaipitthan entered cinema only after Manikkodi’s time. When Bhaktha Kuchela was released in 1936, he wrote for Manikkodi – in his trademark, inimitable style – a 20-page screenplay with the same title. The Krishna that appeared in his contemporary version was a factory owner.

After retiring from Manikkodi, B.S. Ramaiah went to work in films. He partnered with director A. Murugadasa in bringing out a cinema publication titled Chitravani, and grew into professional roles in the industry involving screenplay, dialogues and direction. In 1943, Ramaiah published Cinema..? – a book that turned out to be a treasure trove of information relating to films. 

K. Ramachandran.

Sangu Subramanian was already a trained actor in stage dramas. After his days at Manikkodi, he found a place at Gemini where he wrote stories, dialogues and songs. Ki. Ramachandran (a.k.a Ki. Ra) also worked at Gemini and wrote for many films.

Since as early as 1936, Sa. Thu. Su. Yogiyar (S.D.S Yogi) had begun to work on stories, screenplay, dialogue, song lyrics and direction; he proved to be an exceptionally talented writer. Ramaiah also makes mention of Nalayutham who wrote stories for Manikkodi under the pen name Nalan and went on to write stories and dialogues for cinema. As for Ku. Pa. Rajagopalan, an announcement mentions him to be the dialogue writer for a P. U. Chinappa starrer; there’s no other documentation of him. Ku. Pa. Ra. passed away in 1944. His sister Ku. Pa. Sethu Ammal was one of the dialogue writers for the film Krishna Bhakthi. The famous script writer Ilangovan (Ma. Ka. Thanikachalam) emerged as a star writer in cinema from the year 1937. Writer Sudhananda Bharathiar, who contributed to the pages of Manikkodi, eventually wrote for cinema, too. Manikkodi’s editor Ku. Srinivasan (a.k.a Stalin Srinivasan) later went on to serve on the censor board. He was the one who resolved the issues that arose in the release of the 1952 film Parasakthi. 

Even though Manikkodi also had overseas subscribers, not more than 2,000 issues were printed during its lifetime. “The writers at Manikkodi were pioneers. So, they did not write to gain money or popularity among the masses,” writes Ramaiah. It is a fitting remark when considering the failure of Sri Ramanujar, or indeed, Tamil cinema at large. Don’t you agree?

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