Kid-star tantrums

S R Ramakrishna Editor of MiD DAY, Bangalore feels there's something bizarre about movie fame and success, especially when one is least expecting it

S R Ramakrishna Editor of MiD DAY, Bangalore feels there's something bizarre about movie fame and success, especially when one is least expecting it

There's something bizarre about movie fame and success. Just look at what's happening to Slumdog Millionaire's child stars.

Azhar, the slum boy who found himself in the limelight after the British-made film won eight Oscars, told the world he had been where even an Amitabh Bachchan hadn't... on the red carpet at Los Angeles.

INu00a0THE LIMELIGHT: Showbiz fame seems to skew and distort perspective in strange ways. Slumdog's child stars. file pic

True, and childish pride and enthusiasm must have prompted him to brag, and he has since apologised for his remark. But I couldn't help but wonder: Does an Oscar distinction for a debut make a nine-year-old feel more important than Amitabh Bachchan, who struggled for years before he could even get a toehold in the Mumbai movie industry? Somehow, showbiz fame seems to skew and distort perspective in strange ways.

Equally bizarre is the way the media expect child artistes to be looked after by whoever first cast them and caused them to acquire their tinsel eminence. How does a role in a film, or even an Oscar, entitle one to lifelong comfort and security?

For producers, the movie business is gambling, and the lucky few may live opulently, but then, isn't it common knowledge that ruined gamblers always outnumber millionaire gamblers?

There's no question child artistes should be paid for their work, in whatever way is best for them, but should Danny Boyle be expected to run a home for all his actors just because he made a film using their talent? And would he ever be able to make another film if he got busy tending child actors?

A day after slapping Azhar for refusing to meet journalists (the poor boy was tired), his father is demanding that Boyle buy him a house, and pay him more than the contracted 20,000 pounds. (That's close to Rs 15 lakh, or the life savings of the more frugal middle class professional).

The Kannada film industry is now celebrating its 75th year. We may not realise it, but it is a big industry, making at least a hundred films a year (that's one film every three or four days!) Among the many who built the industry is a man called T N Balakrishna, who came from a slightly less fortunate background than today's famous Slumdog stars.

Balakrishna was abandoned by his parents. Someone had slapped him hard when he was a child, and so he had lost his hearing. He struggled his way into the movie industry. He had to deliver dialogue by reading his co-actors' lips, which he did extraordinarily well. He was among Rajkumar's most prolific co-stars.

Balakrishna acted in hundreds of films and staked everything he had earned and borrowed to build a film studio, which he called Abhiman (self-respect). It didn't succeed, but its real estate value would have made him a very rich man today. In his last days, the muffler-clad actor would ride a city bus from his studio to his house. He was poor, but no one had heard him blame his producers for his plight.