That is his curriculum vitae. So where is the formula?

Two words sum it up: middle class. The rich watch DVDs. It is the middle-class -- and the front bencher who, in the final analysis, is an aspirant to middle-class status -- that puts warm butts in the theatre seats. Amitabh Bachchan made a career out of it, when he epitomised middle-class rage and created an entire industry out of the angry young man persona.

Today, it is Shankar's turn to root himself firmly in the middle-class ethos, to use middle class concerns, middle class frustrations and middle class rage as his personal muse.

In each of his films (with the exception of Jeans), he thus takes a question born out of his own middle-class mind, and on that question he piles on character, drama, songs, fights and the rest of the formulaic elements.

Shankar, in fact, is pure formula -- every single film of his, thus, is littered with what the trade calls 'items', little hooks to reel the audience into the theatres.

Songs? Check out the 'item' number Chiku Bukku Rayile with Prabhu Deva and Gautami gyrating in Gentleman; the virtuoso Bharata Natyam number and the Muqqala muqaabala dance in Kaadhalan; Telephone manipol in Indian, the Sushmita Sen-fronted dance 'item' Shakalaka Baby that launched Mudhalvan.

Ditto, fights -- every film has two, or more, carefully choreographed, brilliantly filmed, hugely elaborate stunt sequences. And it is all mounted against an incredibly wide canvas -- for instance, the enormously expensive effort that saw a song in Jeans shot against the backdrop of the seven wonders of the world, or the portion of song in Mudhalvan for which Shankar sets a series of hillocks ablaze, or the Gentleman and Indian numbers for which the director takes ancient forts and literally peoples it with armies of extras, or...

Every masala ingredient is present and accounted for, in each of his films.

And some, at least, could rub your aesthetic sensibilities the wrong way -- thus, while watching Mudhalvan, I found myself wincing at the sight of simulated snakes arising out of a giant snakes and ladders board and strutting their stuff. Over the top, surely?

Surely not, Shankar's friend and Mudhalvan/Nayak cinematographer K V Anand told me, when I brought this up: "Shankar's key is that he is aware of his huge responsibility. His films are all enormously expensive, and he knows that he has to deliver hits because if he doesn't, his producer will be ruined.

"So he goes out of his way to ensure that he incorporates something for all tastes. Yours is what I'd call an NRI taste, you'll jive when the Shakalaka Baby song comes on-screen -- but go to the B and C centres, and you'll see the audience whistling and clapping and enjoying the snakes.

"I think that is Shankar's big strength, he can think like the most, and least, cultured member of his audience simultaneously."

Another essential part of his directorial makeup is the conviction that the director is the supreme boss -- and on this, he will n-o-t compromise.

Above him, Shankar will acknowledge only one higher power -- the story (and given that he only directs his own stories, he ends up with two bosses, both himself!).

Thus, he will surround himself with the best creative talent around: vide the likes of Raju Sundaram and Prabhu Deva to choreograph, Venki to produce the stunning special effects that lace his films, top flight cinematographers like Jeeva (Gentleman, Kaadhalan, Indian), Ashok Kumar (Jeans) and K V Anand (Mudhalvan, Nayak, and Shankar's next project, the Kamal Hassan-starrer Robot), A R Rahman (music for all five of his films to date).

And he will give them, all of them, complete creative freedom. Thus, Rahman in a recent interview talked of how Shankar always pushes him: "Shankar wants commercially viable tunes, but he won't let you stay with the familiar. He keeps pushing you to experiment, to come up with different sounds, different moods."

Anand, similarly, talks of how Shankar explains the shot, the mood, he is trying to create in each scene, then challenges his cinematographer to come up with brilliant visuals, and backs him in terms of money, and equipment, and whatever else it takes.

But when it comes to making the final call, no one is in any doubt about who will make it. Not for him the habit of pandering to the egos of stars -- if he says the shoot begins at four am, he means that the artistes have to be ready, full make up on, at five minutes to four.

If he says this is how he wants a particular dialogue delivered or a scene enacted, he will patiently listen to suggestions from his actors, he will incorporate them if he thinks fit, but he will make the final call on how he wants it done -- and everyone better deliver.

Thus, even a Kamal Hassan -- whose penchant for directing himself and everyone else around, never mind who the director on record is -- on a Shankar set goes by the director's dictates.

This mind set -- of director as boss -- is best epitomised in an incident relating to the making of Nayak. Following the phenomenal success of Mudhalvan, producer A M 'money-no-object' Rathnam went to Shankar with the remake idea, and suggested several Hindi film star names, including Shah Rukh Khan, for lead.

No way, Shankar responded, "When people come to the theatre, I want them to see the character, not a superstar playing let's pretend."

Rathnam then offered to buy the story and get it made by another director.

Again, Shankar refused.

Finally, Rathnam -- who had made a fortune out of the Andhra Pradesh distribution rights of Mudhalvan -- offered Shankar his choice of stars.

And the director plumped for Anil Kapoor, shrugging off the fact that he would command less of an initial and, instead, banking on the fact that Anil would go the full nine yards to live the character on-screen. > In casting an Anil Kapoor -- or, earlier, in casting an Arjun twice, or in giving Prabhu Deva his first full-fledged screen role as lead -- Shankar in his own way has sought to put the emphasis where he thinks it belongs, namely, on the story.

And on his own ability to tell it in a fashion that will keep the audience rooted.

In a time when an array of superstars have produced only a succession of superflops, does that make Shankar a messiah, a trailblazer, a prophet leading the industry back into a golden age where star-directors ruled on the strength of their strong roots, and a story sense born of those roots?

One southern superstar, at least, thinks not. "Shankar," he told us recently, "is a false messiah, the promise he holds out is false."

His argument runs thus: Taking Tamil films as his case study, he pointed to how, in their own ways, K Balachander, Bharati Raja and Bhagyaraj produced not just successful films, but genres that their own disciples, and others, could learn from, follow through on, and succeed in their turn.

"But how many directors can follow Shankar's example?" this star demanded. "Shankar is about story, and strong narration, and a very good feel for the right masala mix -- but he is also about huge sweeping canvasses and, ultimately, incredible budgets.

"He produces superhits, yes -- but then, if he produced any less, the producer would be wiped out. Now how many producers do we have who can back someone other than Shankar with that kind of money? And how many directors can take that enormous responsibility on their shoulders, and not even let the pressure get to them?

"I look around -- and in the six or so years since Shankar made his first film, I am still to find a single one following in those footsteps. Which is why I maintain that Shankar can be at best a one of a kind -- but never, not ever, a messiah for the industry."

So which is it -- messiah, or false dawn? The jury remains out.

Part I