An Actor’s Actor : 

There are successful stars, there are non-actors and there are actors. And then there are different breeds of actors: directors’ actors, actors’ actors.

A star is someone who entertains. What works for a successful film - a routine, a mannerism, a gesture, a style - is often repeated subsequently along a path of diminishing returns until a new source of entertainment is worked into the routine, and the cycle is continued ad hominem until the shining star fades. In India, a majority of screen idols are stars, shining brightly one day and then fading away. 

A director’s actor is someone who defers to the director to mould the artiste in a certain manner on screen, totally giving in to the director’s vision of the character, without contributing anything to the projection of the character and its various shades on screen. There are directors – like K. Vishwanath, K. Raghavendra Rao, S. S. Rajamouli – who enact every single scene and gesture for the

An actor’s actor is someone who defers to the director for his vision of what he wants to present and then internalizes it, thus projecting it on screen in one’s own mould. The audience is drawn into the character, almost forgetting the actor and living vicariously in the role as projected on screen after careful home work and nuanced juxtaposition of real life character studies in imaginative situations. These are the actors every other aspiring actor wants to act like on screen. When such an actor’s actor takes direction from a director who treats him like a director’s actor but also gives him the bandwidth to create nuances of the shared vision for a holistic portrayal ….. magic happens in front of the cameras, on celluloid and in the audiences’ senses.

His directors are wrong. Mahesh is not a director’s actor; he’s an actor’s actor. Better yet, he’s an actor’s actor who understands the director’s vision and gives enough bandwidth to the director to convince him to believe he is truly a director’s actor, but then turns around and infuses his own internalized vision to the characters to churn a holistic portrayal that is more believable and extremely identifiable. 

He is no longer Mahesh. 

He is the ultimate teenage lover boy Prince. Ever since his debut Rajakumarudu, to the day he married his sweetheart Namrata, and to this day, he remains in the hearts of millions the Prince of their dreams.

He is the obedient, yet mischievous and self-confident Murari. Director Krishnavamsi reiterated that the only actor to have ever come close to his own vision of a character and how it ought to be projected on screen was Mahesh in Murari. What Krishnavamsi failed to realize was that while he was given the bandwidth to mould the character in his directorial vision, his lead actor had infused his own inherent, 

internalized vision to make the character realistic, believable and honest. Perhaps even Mahesh failed to recognize this himself, as he nonchalantly remarked in his interviews after this movie’s success: “I was just being myself, I only projected what I would do in similar circumstances myself”. Krishnavamsi tried to repeat what he thought was the success of his directorial capabilities with another peer, who he also termed a director’s actor, and was sure his vision was suitably portrayed by the actor on celluloid. That later film turned out to be a damp squib. The missing ingredient was an actor who could internalize the director’s vision and infuse his own interpretation with a sincerity and honesty that could draw the camera and film strip into falling in love with the performer and capturing the performance in a more realistic manner. A director’s actor is not the same as an actor’s actor.

He is wounded innocence as Sitaram. Director Teja introduced several actors to the Telugu screen. He molded them as actors, trained them and gave them a platform. They were all directors’ actors when they started off. He made only one movie with a major actor that will be remembered for ever. Nijam. The director finally had an actor who could internalize his directorial vision and convert it to acting magic. What happens when an actor’s actor matches wits with a director who thinks the performer is a director’s actor? Witness the scene in the police station where a shocked, frustrated, vulnerable, fragile Sitaram discovers the truth and whispers in a shaken voice “Abaddam!” Watch again the scene leading up to, into and out of the morgue. Layers of emotions conveyed in full force with multiple nuances heightened by the conviction and sincerity of the performance. No wonder Teja termed this actor’s actor the king of acting. Mahesh reiterated in interviews that he only followed the director’s script and reacted to it. A slipshod script that obfuscated more than clarified the intent of the film was enough preparation for a performer’s instincts to hone his craft beyond expectations. That’s an actor’s actor for you.

He is Nani, the boy child so vulnerable, confused and innocent. S J Suryah’s insipid script and incongruent story line that is more like two films and themes rolled into one had nothing going for it except for an actor’s actor called Mahesh portraying the boy-child. There have been multiple films based on this theme all over the world, almost all failures. What didn’t fail though was Mahesh’s conviction and portrayal of the lead. 

If Suryah called Mahesh a director’s actor, the Tamil version’s comparison proves Mahesh to be an actor’s actor. The same director who enacted the role according to his own vision in Tamil could not do even 10% of the justice Mahesh did to the role in Telugu. It was as if a child sprung up from the inner reserves of the man and completely took over the proceedings with the kind of innocence, smiles, gestures, behavior and attitude displayed in such a child like manner. No director’s actor this one, just an actor’s actor. 

He is the street brat Pokiri who cares a damn. Director Puri’s script is again slipshod failing to close out as many loops as it opens up, but he screenplay more than makes up with pace in narration what it misses in logical progression of events and situations. Having earlier director some well known names, this director finally found an actor’s actor who could do full justice to the character he envisioned. Without the infusion of the actor’s inherent vision on the portrayal of the character on screen, the role would have fallen flat. The arrogance, the accentuation, the dialogue delivery, all revealed new tools in this talented actor’s armory. In interview after interview, the director revealed that he had never seen an actor like this one who would complete the scene in 1-2 takes and then ask the director not to okay the shots until he showed some more ways of portraying the scenes. Director’s actors do not get into the skin of the character and stay in the part; they get out of character and wait for the director to get them into the part again in front of the camera. Actor’s actors get into the skin of the character and stay focused irrespective of the director’s instructions, internalize additi9onal instructions in front of the camera and then deliver the goods. The heroine of Pokiri, Iliana, was shocked after seeing the movie on screen at how Mahesh was able to deliver such a performance in 1-2 takes. An actor’s actor, delving in the character’s skin, makes it so effortlessly easy in front of the camera that co-stars feel the character around them and do not experience the acting effort being put in. 

Mahesh is the quintessential actor’s actor whose uncanny ability to weave in and out between the concepts of a star’s star, a director’s actor, and an actor’s actor puts him in a unique position among the stalwarts of Indian cinema’s acting elite.