In 1979, at the age of 52, Prem Nazir displaced Hollywood legend John Wayne in the Guinness World Records as the actor who had played the highest number of lead roles in films. While Wayne had starred in 203 productions, Nazir was celebrating his 555th film with the release of ‘Ivan Oru Simham’.
Nearly five decades later, as Kerala marks his birth centenary year, the statistic remains staggering. For generations of Malayalis, however, Nazir’s legacy extends far beyond records and numbers.
Born Abdul Khader in Chirayinkeezhu near Thiruvananthapuram in 1927, he remains an enduring presence in Kerala’s cultural imagination. The ‘Nithyaharitha Nayakan (Evergreen Hero)’ whose films, songs and gentle screen persona continue to resonate across time.
“The thought of Prem Nazir itself is a beautiful one. His good looks are not the kind we see around nowadays. He didn’t flaunt a sculpted physique. His was the face that bore the sweet innocence of the neighbourhood, approachable and dignified,” says Sreekumar Mankuzhy, Kerala Fine Arts Society executive member, whose acquaintance with the actor through his father later turned into deep admiration.
“The persona gave him an indomitable charm that translated into a screen presence that was not just towering but also what you would now call evergreen.”
Nazir, who still holds the record for having played lead in 720 films, entered the scene when Malayalam cinema was still in its nascent stages.
“He helped propel it. He turned into the ‘hero’ desired by commercial cinema producers,” recalls
S H M Ashraf, the legendary actor’s brother and trustee of the Prem Nazir Foundation. “His talent as an actor had already become evident during his college days, when he played lead roles in campus theatre and Shakespearean productions.”
In cinema, Nazir’s repertoire spanned a range of popular genres — action, romance, humour, whodunnits, tearjerkers, period dramas, and whatnot.
What made him the darling of the masses was perhaps his array of romances, accompanied by iconic songs composed by doyens such as G Devarajan and M S Baburaj. Those melodies continue to evoke nostalgia among Keralites.
“Can you ever forget ‘Oru Pushpam Maathramen...’, ‘Kaithapuzha Kayalile...’ or ‘Thaamasamenthe Varuvaan...’? These songs also helped make Prem Nazir the ‘Nithyaharitha Nayakan’,” says T Divakaran, who heads the Prem Nazir Samskarika Samiti in Kozhikode.
“He could capture the emotions of a song so impeccably that audiences often felt he had sung them himself rather than Yesudas or Jayachandran.”
Turning emotional, Divakaran says he can “never get over him”.
“I met him as a teenager in Kozhikode at his daughter’s residence, where he gave me tips on how to achieve my dream of becoming a doctor. Even today, I cannot sleep without listening to songs picturised on him,” he says.
“No matter how many times I listen to his songs, I still yearn for more. A lifetime is not enough. At times, I hum in a prayer, “Ee manohara theerathu tarumo iniyoru janmam koodi’.”
The 68-year-old reveals that he was so charmed by the actor that he often tried to emulate him. “But, unfortunately, I can never do that with his looks. He was a god in that area,” Divakaran laughs.
Nazir’s acting career has often been reassessed, with comparisons frequently drawn with contemporaries such as Sathyan and
Madhu — the former celebrated for his powerful performances and the latter as the king of emotions.
“He was indeed regarded more as a commercial hero, but that was because producers often cast him for his persona as the gentleman next door, the kind who could be idolised by the masses. It clicked, making him the star who once had the highest number of releases in a single year,” says Sreekumar.
“But to me, he was one of the finest actors in the industry. His ability to handle any kind of role remained underutilised. That talent revealed itself in films such as ‘Iruttinte Aathmavu’, ‘Anubhavangal Paalichakal’, ‘Aaradi Manninte Janmi’, ‘Asuravithu’, ‘Murappennu’, ‘Daivatte Orthu’, ‘Padayottam’, and ‘Kaaryam Nissaram’.”
In fact, in the later phase of his career, Nazir delivered two of his most memorable performances in ‘Kaaryam Nissaram’ and ‘Prashnam Gurutharam’, in which actor-auteur Balachandra Menon cast him in comically flawed roles.
The collaboration showcased Nazir’s remarkable ability to move seamlessly between genres. “To me, he was a man deeply sensitive to the life around him. I knew him from my journalist days in Madras, and he embodied what an artist should be,” says Menon.
“Well-behaved is too small a word for him. In those days, he was a source of comfort for every Malayali artist in Madras whenever life became difficult.”
Menon still remembers the way he treated a stray admirer who once went to a studio to meet him. “While speaking to the man, Nazir Sir behaved as though he knew him, even though he clearly did not,” he recalls.
“Later, when I questioned the honesty of that gesture, he replied, ‘That man came to meet me. Even if I don’t remember him, what is the harm in making him feel happy?’ That spoke volumes about the legend,” says Menon, adding that “art is as much about sensitivity to life as it is about skill”.
Nazir’s gentle aura is what lingers in the memories of his contemporaries, Madhu and Sheela.
“One can only have good memories about Nazir. I was about 10-12 years junior to him. He was a humble and gentlemanly presence,” Madhu recalls.
He adds that there was little reason for competition. “In those days, scripts were not written for stars. Rather, stars were chosen to suit scripts. So all of us got opportunities to play roles that suited our strengths, and all of us were happy for each other. Hence, there was no question of any rivalry,” says Madhu.
Sheela, who acted opposite Nazir in 130 films, still finds herself revisiting those memories.
“Those days were different. Life was unflashy and slow-moving. The films and songs reflected that, which is perhaps why they continue to resonate whenever we think of the good old days. As for Nazir Sir, he was the ultimate professional, yet extremely humble, polite and caring,” she says.
“I remember Abu, who started as a unit assistant and later became a director. As a unit boy, he used to attend to actors. But when he became a director, Nazir Sir would tell all of us to follow Abu’s instructions as the film was ultimately his responsibility and actors should do as they were directed. There was no ego in him.”
For Menon, the character Unnithan in ‘Kaaryam Nissaram’ reflected aspects of Nazir’s own personality.
“Unnithan was also one of Nazir’s favourite roles, something he often mentioned at welfare forums where we met. It was while he was playing that character that news arrived of his selection for the Padma Bhushan,” he recalls.
“When he passed away in 1989, it was a poster of that role that was placed in front of the bus carrying his mortal remains.”
Years may fly by, Menon observes, but the roles and songs that Nazir gifted Malayalam cinema will remain immortal: “evergreen”.