Sanchari Vijay will be sorely missed at a time when Kannada film industry needs its everyman the most

Sanchari Vijay was not one of Kannada cinema’s top ‘stars,’ but he was its most celebrated ‘everyman.’ The kind of performer who left a mark in every role he took up.

The much-loved and critically-acclaimed actor, 38, died on 14 June in Bengaluru following an accident. He was declared brain dead, and his organs were donated by his family.

Vijay was chameleon-like. The 2015 National Award he received for Best Actor for Naanu Avanalla…Avalu is tiny proof of that. Very rarely does a cis-person do justice to the role of a transwoman, especially one celebrated for her writing and thought in real life, and impress the person the film is based on. Living Smile Vidya was touched by the dedication Vijay showed in bringing alive her struggles, angst, and quandaries on screen.

In the film, Vijay’s face was everything at the same time — delicate, fragile, determined, and crushed. “I would like to thank him for portraying me. We never really spoke, but he was very sincere about the character, and he did not stereotype anything. I am just grateful he became the person. He was Vidya,” says Vidya from Switzerland. “The news of his accident shook me. This is so unfair for his family and the industry.”

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In an earlier interview to this writer for The Hindu, Vidya had said: “The first time I saw the film, I wept. The second time, I loved the sensitivity the director and actor displayed while recreating my life. I was amazed at how similar certain features were. Did you know Vijay actually begged in Pune?”

That kind of dedication was the only kind Vijay knew, those who knew him would tell you.

He believed in “befriending the character, and accepting it with all its flaws and strengths”,

says Sruthi Hariharan, whose third film with him was the haunting Naathicharami, directed by Mansore, whose Act 1978 was Vijay’s last outing on screen. Vijay and Mansore were a team that stayed together.

That trait of befriending the character was exhibited beautifully in Naathicharami (streaming on Netflix India), where he plays Suresh, caught in myriad conflicts — urban-rural divide, to be an empathetic person or a misogynist. But through it all, you do not quite hate him, but just instinctively know where he comes from. Which is why that last hug in the kitchen with his wife, and the tears that fell rang so real.

Vijay was a transwoman in Naanu Avanalla…Avalu, an NSG commando in Act 1978. Without much fuss, he transformed into the character. Those of us who know Vidya in real life did see shades of her in Vijay’s portrayal of her. He was that intuitive a performer.

Gowri (Haasan) in Naathicharami would not have made that kind of impact without the contrast Suresh provided. “Though the film revolved around Gowri, Suresh was the backbone of the story. Vijay made Suresh empathetic, but still a man with many misogynistic and patriarchal purviews, providing the film the balance it needed,” says Sruthi.

Usually, the actor landing what will be the most defining moment of a film might like to pack it with ‘performance,’ not Vijay. His blows land lightly, butterfly-like, like when he tells Gowri with a stoic face, “I thought you were a respectable woman.” He does not shame her, but takes the wind out of her.

Vijay had dreams of becoming a singer, but life had other plans for him. He did don that hat for ‘Bhaavaloka’ in Naathicharami, for which Bindhumalini Narayanaswamy composed music. “You were so happy and keen to make ‘ Bhaavaloka’ happen. Somewhere, a little part of your eternal dream got fulfilled. You let me tease you, laugh, push you more and more. Your voice will stay with us forever, Sanchari Vijay,” she wrote in tribute.

Actress Anju Alva Naik, whose role in the Kannada film Arishadvarga was praised widely, wrote in tribute on her Facebook page: “Had the honour of having a 30-second interaction with him. He was visibly strung after watching the premiere, and then said, ‘You feel very sad for your character because of what you go through in the film.’ It felt like he was speaking to me, the person. Those 30 seconds were enough to show what a deeply sensitive human he was.”

A Clubhouse discussion after news broke of his brain injury saw friends, colleagues, and fans speak about Vijay the artiste, and his art. “There were anecdotes aplenty about his humaneness and ability to give,” said an actor who took part in it.

Vijay was an active volunteer during the COVID-19 relief efforts, and helped many. Fitting then, that even in death, his organs went on to give new life to many people — his family donated his kidneys, liver, heart valves, and corneas.

When the Kannada film industry is at a stage where interesting experiments are frequent, and when new concepts are being pushed, and where you need performers not just stars, an actor like Vijay will be sorely missed. The industry will be poorer without him.