1990 was a memorable year for my mother’s side of the family.This was the year that my Aunt (my Mom’s only sibling, who passed on in 2016) got married.It was a festive few months between her engagement (June) and wedding (September).My grandparents’ house would be filled with wedding-related items.Friends and relatives who were part of the wedding planning efforts would flit in and out of the house. The stove in the kitchen was perpetually turned on. One sinister – and utterly irresponsible, I shall add – thought that I had was that I could totally flop in my quarterly exams and could conveniently shift the blame onto my family for not helping out enough with my preparations. (What actually happened was…why don’t you take a guess?) But in between the engagement and wedding, something significant happened.My grandpa retired from his job in July.
You might wonder what was so significant about someone retiring from his job. It was actually quite straightforward. Thatha had worked for The Reserve Bank of India from 1954 until 1990. He had turned 58 in July, refused the offer of an extension and happily retired without a crease in his forehead. All the creases were appearing on the broad forehead of his pudgy 9-year old grandson, yours truly. At his retirement dinner, I was the only one who appeared unhappy. When my family checked on me, I responded, in all seriousness, “If Thatha retires, what do we do? Will we become poor? Retirement means we will not have any money, no? Why are we eating at this restaurant now?” Everyone at the table burst into simultaneous laughter. I was reassured by my Thatha that life will not be a struggle. That everything from the dinner to my Aunt’s wedding will be paid for! I was also gently reminded that my parents were working professionals as well. That the family’s fate did not depend on just Thatha, his job or his pension payments!
One of my fondest memories of that dinner is the son-in-law of my grandpa’s friend narrating the delightful “kozhu kozhu kanne” story to me. I don’t remember if it was to cheer me up. But by the end of the dinner, I was taking great pleasure in being able to recite all the lines in the story to anyone who cared to listen.
Those last three words. That’s really it. “Cared to listen.” That is really why this dinner stands out in my memory as fresh as this morning’s filter coffee. I was never given the feeling that me, my words or my worries – as amusing as they seem now – did not matter to my family. My Thatha knew that it was my fondness for him that made me tie our entire future to his employment. Even when the table erupted with laughter, I never got the vibe that my feelings were trivialized or ignored. Their laughter was just a spontaneous adult reaction to a kid’s innocent inquiry. That an Uncle chose to regale me with a story despite having no need to give me the time of day at a dinner party, warms my heart when I think about it. These might all seem like minutiae. But just like how scientists in a lab discover wonders through a microscope, we can all do the same through the magnifying lens of introspection. Seemingly little moments will seem wondrous. 32 years from the dinner, several of my near and dear are gone – my grandparents, their best friends, even my Aunt. I don’t remember what I ate on that day. But their kindness and thoughtfulness certainly gives me plenty of food for thought on how I can pay that goodness forward.
Note to readers – I am starting a
series titled, “Single Take.”These sketches will be shorter than my usual blog posts.I will be alternating between the short and
the longer write-ups just as an experiment.I would welcome any feedback and constructive criticism.Happy reading!
***
I finally understood what religious
people experienced when they entered the premises of a temple.Thanks to the efforts of journalist S Shiva Kumar, I was allowed
inside Ilayaraja’s studio in Chennai.As
I stood outside the building, only a glass door separated me and him.I saw him.More accurately, “I saw HIM.”The
security guard let me know that I should stand next to him until HE would wave at
him.Much to my amusement, he said, “Why
don’t you move to my left so that you are not in Aiyya’s line of sight?Once Aiyya waves to me, I shall let
you in.”I said to myself, “Ram, no, don’t
try to respond with some lame, ‘witty’ remark.You are going to soon be let inside ILAYARAJA's studio.Just follow instructions to the letter.”So, I did.While I waited, I asked the guard for any tips he could offer.Among other things, one piece of instruction
stood out – “Keep your volume down.”If he
had only listened to the beats of my heart, he would have been scurrying to buy
cotton balls for even the drummers in the studio.
The King must have waved to his
guard.For the latter told me, “Aiyya
koopadraru.Ulla poanga.”As I entered the studio, the maestro gave me
a hint of a smile and gestured me to sit down.As I took my seat, the first words out of my mouth were, “I don’t have
any questions for you, Sir.”In response
to the quizzical look, I continued, “Sir, I have grown up on your music.Your music has meant the world to me.And I wanted to use this opportunity to see
you in person and thank you for what you have given me.”I picked two of his songs that have touched the
innermost recesses of my soul – “Ellorum Sollum Paatu” and “Nalam Vaazha” from Marupadiyum.And I emphasized that these two songs, among
countless others, have touched me, lifted me, inspired me.I told him that there was something inexplicable
about his music that set it apart from anything else that reaches my ears.A smile here and a word there were what he offered
in return to my monologue that was really a thanksgiving speech.
After a few minutes, I requested
him for an autograph and a photograph.He agreed to both.Oh, the
security guard had given me instructions for that too.I was supposed to come outside and mime the
clicking of a camera.And he would then
ask the person sitting next to him to go inside and take a picture. (Why I couldn’t
ask the other person myself is a thought that crossed my mind.But I was wise enough to not argue!)Did I follow those instructions?You bet.To the letter.As I thanked HIM and walked outside,
I could understand how the pious folks in my circle would beam with happiness
after exiting a temple.The ‘darshan’ would have given them peace and tranquility. It
would have given them the cathartic reassurance that a superpower exists, to give them
the strength to lead their lives, inclusive of its highs, lows and
everything in between. The fanatics would even exclaim, "Don't you question the existence of God." Well, 35
days have passed since my visit.The
impact still lingers.And guess what, I didn't question at all!
“Charge” is a word that I think
of quite often and quite deeply.No, it
is not about that ominous bar at the top of the device that I carry in my
pocket.Instead, it is a word that I
remember from the commencement speech that Randy Pausch gave weeks before he
died of pancreatic cancer.He mentioned that
the university President “asked me to come and give the charge to the
graduates. I assure you it’s nothing compared to the charge you have just given
me.”Just the presence of considerate college
staff and earnest students who were on the cusp of something special, gave a
dying man a certain “charge.”Several
things can give us the kind of “charge” that Randy spoke about.But I doubt if there are any that endure, uplift,
comfort and secure us the way kindness does.
As a new year commences, it is
but natural for us to reflect on the previous year’s happenings, the highs, the
lows, the best practices, the lessons learned and set resolutions and goals for
the year.I rarely indulge in any
activity that involves disciplined listing of things.I don’t seem to derive joy or fun from
listing accomplishments.Or reflecting
on a set of disappointments either.What
I instead do, is let my mind freewheel in search of one dominant emotion or
thought that seems to persist in the mind, refusing to budge.As I reflect on 2022, that emotion has been
kindness.
Among the things that I am
grateful for, one of them is people who provide frameworks to organize my
thoughts.While social scientists like
Adam Grant revel in tools like two-by-two grids to distinguish between different
groups, I also find perceptive writers (for movies or otherwise) offer us a
line or a phrase that is simple on the surface yet seems to drive us in the
direction of common sense.In that
respect, writer-director C Prem Kumar (of ’96 fame) has been a
remarkable inspiration.It is an unfussy
line in a poetic scene between Vijay Sethupathi and Trisha where he asks if she
is happily married.Her response is
wonderfully poignant.And more
importantly, thought-provoking.She says,
“I am not sure if I am happy.But I am
at peace with myself.” (It sounds much nicer in Thamizh – “Sandhosham-aa
irukena na…nimmadhi-ya iruken-nu sollalam.”)It has been a very important line in my life
ever since I heard it for the first time four years ago.
It is because, in my opinion,
peace is a lot more controllable than is happiness.The attainment of peace can truly be a quiet,
personal, inward journey.Whereas
happiness, at least to me, seems to depend more on circumstances and other
external factors.Even as I reflect on
2022, yes, there were several moments of joy.But as I think about the few rough patches in the year, I feel that, for
the most part, I was able to be at peace with myself and my microcosm of the
world.That is because of the kindness
that I saw in its most pristine form, sans blemish.
Just like a variety of types of
people make up this world, kindness too comes in different flavors.Some express it in well-chosen words, others
express it through thoughtful gestures and yet another set of people offer it
in silences, just being there for us when we need them.As I introspect on last year, I consider
myself blessed to have been the recipient of kindness in all these forms, and more.Instead of sharing the more obvious, overt
acts, I shall just share one small memory that will be indelible for me for years
to come.I was having a particularly
difficult day and broke down near the entrance of my house.The person in question walked up to me, held
me tightly and urged me to finish tearing up before entering the house so that I
would not have to be seen by everyone inside.He offered a few words of assurance, put his hand over my shoulder and walked
inside with me.Imagine a phone that was
devoid of power, to be fully charged in a minute.That is exactly what happened then.
Of course, life is not just about
acknowledging and appreciating acts of kindness.It is as much about giving, if not more.And from what I have learned from those
innately kind souls, the key to giving kindness effectively is rooted in one
element.It is in how well we can transmute
our feelings of empathy for a person into words, actions or gestures that touch
the innermost core of what the other person is experiencing.To place ourselves in the shoes of another
person is easier said than done.But if
we were to truly get to the heart of what is disturbing another person, then we
will come up with the right avenue to exhibit our kindness.The person I mentioned above knew what was disturbing
me and realized that what I needed at that moment was the license to tear up
without fear of judgment.He knew that I
needed a shoulder, not a solution.As a result, he enabled me to, in fact, strengthen
myself post the catharsis.
As I look ahead to 2023, I seek
comfort from the fact that I have people who give me that charge in many a form.I am equally fortunate that I have been able
to be that charge when a few close ones have needed my support.In both cases, I tell myself that kindness can
be the controllable element amid the vagaries of fate and the uncertainties of
life.It can be the constant amidst several
variables.In essence, it can be that supercharger that
ensures that we are quickly up and running.
Now that Radhakrishnan Parthiban’s
Iravin Nizhal (Shadow of the Night) is out on Amazon Prime, I decided to
not just revisit the film.But also take
a moment to pause and reflect on one part of his directorial journey - the reformed sinner films.Given his unending desire to travel unexplored
frontiers, risk his talents and push his boundaries, I sometimes feel like we don’t
give him the credit for his achievements or the leeway for the flaws in his
works.Arguing about certain basic facts
– the fact that this is the world’s first non-linear single shot film – might be
exercises in futility that self-proclaimed youtube ‘experts’ might engage in.But having followed his career with keen
interest from the 90s, I feel compelled to offer a defense of
something that is a bit of an unfair judgement – that he keeps dishing out the
same content despite wanting to innovate with form.
Firstly, it is imperative to acknowledge
that some filmmakers have pet themes.A
theme is different from a story.While Pudhiya
Paadhai (1989) and Iravin Nizhal (2022) might have, at their core, a
central character whose troubled childhood lays the foundation for all his
moral depravity as an adult, the way the stories are told and the narrative arc
themselves are vastly different.In
fact, the differences that age and maturity bring to a filmmaker are there to
see.
In an interview with Baradwaj
Rangan, the latter asked Parthiban what he would do with the lead characters of
Pudhiya Paadhai if he had a chance to revisit the film.Pat came the reply that the film would start
with the victim shooting the rapist.If
you think that that was a convenient answer given in an interview to earn brownie
points for political correctness, then you haven’t seen his earlier reformed rowdyTM
films and now, Iravin Nizhal.
In both Pudhiya Paadhai and
Ulle Veliye, it is others that pay for the rowdy's sins.If in his debut effort, his wife succumbs to
a bomb blast where he was the target, in Ulle Veliye, it is a girl in the
slum who commits suicide after lying about being a prostitute.In Pachcha Kuthira, despite committing
acts like chopping off an innocent man’s leg, the ruffian doesn’t even set foot
in jail until the movie ends.KudaikkuL
Mazhai was the first film of Parthiban where crime and punishment are in
close proximity to one another.Even
though the Singapore-returned character is a figment of the protagonist’s
imagination, in ‘shooting’ the character – a concretization of a man ‘killing’
his evil side and absolving himself- Parthiban, the filmmaker, showed a marked
departure from his earlier works. And that
evolution is complete in Iravin Nizhal.
The lead character of Iravin
Nizhal goes through unimaginable hardships as a child and as a youth.The more depravity he witnesses, he
experiences a strange dichotomy between being repelled by it and wanting to do
it himself.He succumbs to desires and
temptations.In reflecting on a
harrowing episode, he notes, “Pasiyum paNam saarndha prachanaiyum than yenna
ellaa vayasilayum verattikitte iruku.”As much as we feel sympathy for the character, Parthiban also leaves us with a
strong message – that sins will beget more sins.And when one finally realizes the error of his ways,
it might sometimes be too little too late. In Iravin Nizhal, the fact that his daughter – the apple of his eye – begins to hate him
is a powerful instance of karma hitting back hard and in a manner that hurts
the most.
Let’s examine the sequence of
events here.An inability to pay a loan
leads to a tragedy.The episode makes
the character bitter and turns him into a loan shark.And when a family commits suicide because of his incessant pressure, his
daughter begins to hate him because it was the family of a close friend of
hers.Unable to digest the fact that the
one genuine love of his life will never accept him again, he commits
suicide.The emotional logic and
psychological reasoning here are exquisite.And
the message now is very different from Pudhiya Paadhai.That one’s sins, if repeated over time, will insidiously chip away at
their core until there is very little left. In this context, the sublime "Paapam seiyyadhiru maname" is not just a dirge, it is a plea.
As I mentioned earlier, the themes
of certain films might remind us of earlier works of a filmmaker.But it is imperative that we not just see the
starting point of a pathway, which might seem vaguely familiar.Instead, we must also take the time to see the
new roads that are painstakingly laid out from the same starting point.The roads might take us on a journey that we
might not have experienced previously.Up
until we willingly take the new road, we will commit the mistake of leaving important
filmmakers like Parthiban in the shadow of the night instead of shedding the
spotlight on them.
Director Visu rarely spoke about
films outside of his own works.I had
the fortune of knowing him in the last 2 ½ years of his life.During the conversations and whatsapp chats,
he was extremely candid in his self-assessment.I could freely speak about what I felt were the flaws in his films.It was easy because he was a tougher critic
of his works than I was.But the same
Visu could become suddenly hesitant when I would broach a conversation about
any other director’s films.But a
striking exception to that was the warm, loving way in which he spoke about
director Suresh Krissna’s Aahaa.An
obvious reason why it was relatively easy to get him to talk about Aahaa was
because it was Suresh Krissna who had introduced me to him.But the true reason why he made an exception
was because, as a writer, he loved the ensemble drama.He described the film as, a “ramyamaanapadam.”What makes Aahaa
such an instantly appealing film that even Visu decided to make an exception?
One of the greatest strengths of seasoned filmmakers is their ability to make the right choices.They seem to know exactly whom to cast for
what role, which talents to collaborate with behind the camera and in essence,
know how to transform the germ of an idea onto the screen with conviction.Prior to Aahaa, Suresh Krissna was
known mostly for his action-packed dramas like Baasha, Annamalai and Sathya.But he had shown his adeptness in making
lighthearted films like Veera and Raja Kaiyya Vechaa.But those lighthearted films felt light on
the ‘heart’ aspect.They were decidedly
commercial.And while they were
entertaining, they didn’t quite touch a chord or move me.But with Aahaa, all of that
changed.It didn’t happen by
accident.It was a result of a series of
very conscious decisions.
Firstly, Suresh Krissna decided
that he would move completely away from the conventional commercial mould to
make a film that was all heart.One of
the chief pleasures of Aahaa is that the screen is filled with lovable
characters.Circumstances aside, there are
no villains.Even the crabby Vijayakumar
is just a frustrated father who wishes that his son was a little more focused
in life.There is a lovely line about
the Bhanupriya character in the delightful introduction sequence – “ivalluku
elaarayum pidikum.Adhanaal, ivallai
elaarukum pidikum.”Something
similar can be said about the characters.When the screen is filled with affability, warmth and people whose
hearts are always in the right place, it is impossible to not like them and
root for them.
Having decided that he would make
a drama focused on the highs and lows of a large joint family, Suresh Krissna
had two immensely strong writer collaborators.One was the late Ananthu, who cowrote the screenplay, which flows as
smoothly as a river, beautifully segueing from one sequence to the next.The bumps in the journey are extremely
rare. (Some of the scenes featuring Sukanya are amongst the few missteps in
the film.) The other one was a pillar that held the film aloft – dialogue
writer Crazy Mohan.
One of the lesser-mentioned
aspects of Aahaa is the polish of the filmmaking.The reason why this film, despite being a
‘drama’, does not feel like a staged theater performance is that it is a sound
film technically.Talking of sound, the sound design is
supremely effective.So is the way the
scenes are choreographed.The huge house
that is almost a character in itself, is utilized in its full glory.The sequence that best demonstrates this
confluence of sound design and scene choreography is the one leading to the
death scene.There are three events
happening in parallel – just like in real life.Srividya is offering coffee to her son.Vijayakumar is attending to a phone call.And Bhanupriya is getting her son ready for
school.In the foreground, Rajiv Krishna
just listens to Vijayakumar say, “En son-a anupchu vekkaren.”
While we primarily hear the son remonstrate
with his mother, in the background, we feebly hear Vijayakumar talking on the
phone.As he hangs up, Vijayakumar
summons his son – to watch Rajiv Krishna’s anticipation increase, only to be
brought back to earth, is a hilarious experience!As they argue, Bhanupriya’s kid is ready for
school.And as the driver Krishnan picks
up the kid, he rubs salt in Rajiv’s wound by saying, “Neengale correct-a
sollitengale!”Essentially, the
characters from the three parallel events converge in an utterly seamless
manner.That we don’t notice the craft
behind all this is the ultimate testament to the filmmaker.He is there.Yet he is not!
"En son-a anupchu vekkaren..."
Another aspect of the film that
reflects some truly inspired choices is the casting.Every actor in the cast fits their role like
a glove.Special mention to Raghuvaran,
Bhanupriya and Delhi Ganesh, who turned in some of the best work of their
career for this film.Given that Raghuvaran
had played the hero and the villain, we could never be sure about his
relationship with Sukanya until he delivers that searing monologue in the
climax.Bhanupriya always had an innate
likeability.But she doesn’t rest lazily
on that.She imbues her character with
little lifelike touches – her kitchen conversation with Rajiv Krishna as he
bites on a carrot, is a case in point.It takes a special actor to utter a line like, “aamam, ivaru periya
Kapil Dev” yet not make it sound insulting!And Delhi Ganesh takes the jaangiri…err…the cake in the humor
department.He never failed to do
justice to Mohan’s lines.And in Aahaa,
he is a hoot in the funny scenes and a reliable anchor in the dramatic
sequences.No other actor could switch
between humor and drama as effortlessly as he does in the Krishna Jayanthi
scene in Vijayakumar’s house.
Bhanupriya, Raghuvaran and Delhi Ganesh in the climax:
Films like Aahaa are
rare.In their quest to make the next
big pan Indian film (which sometimes ends up being a film panned throughout
India), they forget Martin Scorsese’s words which were memorably quoted by Bong
Joon Ho at the Oscars- “The most personal is the most creative.”And it is the most universal too.‘Little’ films like Aahaa are amongst
the films with the richest legacy and the most longevity.It was a film that appealed to Visu back
then.It is a film that holds appeal
even now, 25 years after its release.Let us celebrate the film for all the joy that it has given us.Thank you, Team Aahaa!You made all the right choices in making this
film the classic it is.It is up to us
to do the same and not forget about this film during our lifetime and
beyond.
It is quite rare that I let my views
on a topic cloud my opinion of a movie.But it happened recently with Thiruchitrambalam.I chose to not review it because I felt that I
could not trust myself to look past my opinions of friendship, to review the
film based on its own merits and demerits.Thanks to the influence of serious critics like Baradwaj Rangan, I
sincerely try to review a film based on how well the writer-director brings to the
screen the story that she or he chooses to tell.In that respect, Thiruchitrambalam probably
deserves a much better review than the one that I would have written.Why so?Because I hated the final act of the film. (Spoilers ahead) Having
invested in the friendship of Nithya Menen and Dhanush, to be told that she had
harbored feelings of love all along, felt like a mighty letdown.Though the stellar cast and their wonderful performances kept me engaged, I felt cheated.Was it entirely the fault of the filmmaker?
Let me start by saying that
there have been films like Piriyadha Varam Vendum and Oh My Kadavule
that have explored the space of a friendship metamorphosing into love and the
tricky aspects of two close friends marrying one another.The seemingly lightweight Kadhal
Desam is mostly remembered for its songs.“Muzhugathe ship-pe friendship than” is a line that is remembered in the
context of the irresistible “Mustafa…” song.But the film, as frivolous as it was, attempted to do justice to
friendship as much as it was about love.It featured a thought-provoking sequence where SPB assures Tabu that a
good friend could make for a good spouse.That she might want to marry her friend instead of hoping that her life
partner will be a good pal to her.Agree
or disagree with what he said, it at least gave friendship the respect it
deserved.It felt like a logical
conversation between a friendly Dad and a loving daughter.In none of these movies did I feel the kind
of negative emotions like I did with the concluding portions of Thiruchitrambalam.
As I reflected on my feelings after
watching the film, I realized that my unfavorable response really stemmed from
the fact that this was not the kind of man-woman friendship that I enjoy
watching on screen.I realized that beyond
the “vaa da” and “po di” kind of ‘casual’ remarks between friends, films that
explored the depth of a friendship across gender are what truly appealed to me.My bias was and is towards films where friends
remained friends for the duration of a film.In that respect, two films that have stayed with
me for a long time are Autograph and Thotta Chinungi.Sneha and Cheran in the former and Revathi
and Karthik in the latter share the kind of bond that appeals to me not only as
a moviegoer but also as a person.While Autograph
is a little more in-your-face in its depiction, the subtlety and sensitivity in
Thotta Chinungi is an absolute delight.
In Thotta Chinungi, Revathi
and Karthik are friends from a young age.A young Karthik loses his mom early in life.Revathi and her brother are his only family.Revathi marries Raghuvaran.All is well until Raghuvaran starts
developing feelings of possessiveness, insecurity and suspicion.Writer-director KS Adhiyaman does a fabulous
job of showcasing their relationship in a lifelike manner.He balances the rhythms of daily life with
just the right emotional beats.There
are sweet lifelike touches like Revathi addressing Karthik, “Sir” and Karthik casually
sitting on her kitchen counter and chatting with her and Raghuvaran.At the same time, when asked to describe his
feelings for her, in a rather lovely scene, Karthik describes her as the maternal
figure in his life.When a situation involving
Revathi’s brother escalates out of hand, Karthik takes him in.But he does so in the most undemonstrative,
non-judgmental manner.In a stupendous
bit of screenwriting, Adhiyaman makes Karthik’s love interest (played by
Rohini) talk to Raghuvaran about Karthik and Revathi’s bond.To have Karthik talk to Raghuvaran would have
just not been as effective.
What makes Thotta Chinungi
resonate with me is not just the respect and dignity it affords to the
friendship.It is also how the relationship
is tested severely.And how the
characters come out of it shining brightly.In the aforementioned kitchen counter scene, Karthik nonchalantly
mentions that simple joys like eating Revathi’s food and playing with her kid are
all that he wants in life.Later, in the
climax, when Karthik almost walks away from the relationship to save Revathi
and Raghuvaran’s marriage, Raghuvaran steps in and mentions the same line uttered
by Karthik.That is all that he says to
reassure him that both his friendship and their marriage will be intact.And the film ends with a closeup of Revathi
smiling.Simple yet striking.Pithy yet profound.Adhiyaman demonstrates that you don’t always need
lectures on friendship for its worth to be understood by viewers.And since it is a domestic drama and not a
hero-centric film, all characters are given equal prominence.As a result, the relationships are supremely
well fleshed out.
Watch the scene at 32:22 and the climax at 2:17:49
Autograph, on the other hand,
is vintage Cheran.Cheran has never
shied away from direct expression of feelings.When he isn’t firing on all cylinders (as a writer), one gets the
feeling that the characters are mere mouthpieces for what he wants to say to
his viewers.At his best, especially
when he has the support of good actors, his characters spout lines that might
sound preachy but they seem to own the lines with such conviction that the writer
seems invisible.That is exactly what happens
in the case of Sneha and Cheran.
Sneha comes into Cheran’s life at
a time that he is going through a low phase.He helps him rebuild his life, yes.But despite Cheran being the film’s central character, this portion of
the film is not just about the impact of Sneha on Cheran’s life.It is also about her.Nowhere is this demonstrated better than in
the restaurant scene.Prior to this,
Sneha would have bumped into her former love interest. (We are told that she
had attempted suicide when the relationship failed.) When Cheran mocks her, she
slaps him.Upon returning to her senses,
she apologizes to him.And explains that
the reason she got mad was because she sees him as a pillar of strength that helped
her face her fears and overcome her weaknesses. (Interestingly, Ae Dil Hai
Mushkil… also featured a line where Anushka Sharma calls Ranbir Kapoor her “strength”
and her lover her “weakness.”) Scenes like these breathe with so much
life that later on, when Sneha speaks of their friendship in an idealistic
manner, one gets the feeling that the character – and by extension, the
director – has earned the right to be a bit preachy and philosophical.
Click on Play to go to the restaurant scene:
The unconscious ability of good friends
to know precisely when to say what to one another, their equally unshakeable confidence
in communicating through silences, the undemonstrative yet unwavering displays
of support and above all, the reassuring constancy amidst highs, lows,
trials and tribulations.These are what
I truly find enriching in friendships, in life and on screen.It is entirely unfair of me to expect Mithran R Jawahar (writer-director
of Thiruchitrambalam) to showcase the kind of friendships that Adhiyaman
and Cheran did.But by the same token,
movie viewing can be an intensely individual, personal experience as much as it
is a communal one.And the (friend)ships
that will stay afloat in my memory sans any risk of sinking are the ones
in Thotta Chinungi and Autograph.
It is rather unexpected that a person like me was asked to
do a guest post reviewing Ponniyin Selvan Part-1 (“PSI").I have
watched a lot of good movies in Tamil but I am not one to be up to date on all
the new Tamil movies.In fact, I haven’t
been to the theater to see a Tamil movie in twenty years! But PSI – how could I
not go see it in the theater?! This is Ponniyin Selvan we are talking about! The famous Kalki novel that everyone who grew up in Tamil Nadu would have
known! I have not read the novel. But
being someone who loves the Tamil language, I had to support this grand venture
for sure.I did my homework and read the
story summary in detail and watched YouTube videos so that I could enjoy the
movie and not focus on understanding the plot.I wanted to watch the movie because I had not watched historical fiction
in a long time.I love listening to pure
Thamizh being spoken.Another reason for
me to go watch PS1!
Did I love the movie? The movie was so hyped up in the media
that I went in expecting some magic.But
I came home wondering why I didn’t have
that “Niraivu” (complete feeling).Fragments of the movie stayed in my mind.Karthi was good in his light-hearted ways. Jayram was very capable in how he acted with great timing and flow. ThePonniyin Selvan novel, as a movie, would
have fared well with greater emotional depth had it been split into three
parts.It felt as if the director was
vacillating between it being a crowd pleaser versus retaining a tight grip on
his standards of movie making.“Devaralan
Aatam” song for example just did not fit in with the weighty feel of the story.It seemed like a song that would fit in
better in some other movie like Chandramukhi.
Like the winter sky on a calm night, there were so many stars but their
shine didn't come through because of how little time most of them had on
screen.Prakash Raj was lying down most
of the time.Prabhu was silently beaming
next to Arulmozhi Varman.Vikram’s
dialogues were not befitting his stature as the possible successor when he
talks about his heartache over Nandhini.The heartache may have been real but the space given to bring it out was
cramped. Aishwarya Rai was radiant but lacking spark because we were made to
focus on her "beauty" with the warm glow of light on her face and the
glittering jewels adding to it.It
reminded me of the photoshopped models on magazine covers.I almost wish they had cast someone who would
have brought out the conniving nature of that character a lot more. Vidya Balan
maybe? Aishwarya Lekshmi’s costume in “Alaikadal” felt like I was about to
watch “Nila Adhu Vaanathu mele” from Nayagan. A dream song between Vikram and Aishwarya with words like “Narumugaye”
would have fit in better.I guess a
sensuous song was thrown in to engage the masses? Shobita Dulipala does not
have a Tamilian face for her role as Vanathi and I wonder if there is a paucity
of Tamil actresses for such prized roles. Thankfully Trisha looking fresh as
always was there to put a Tamil face there!
The cinematography was spectacular and carried the
movie.It reminds me of the times my son
would remark that a doubles team won because one player carried the match and
made them win. Thotta Tharani’s experience and visual panache showed in the
spectacular sets that made you feel like you could almost walk alongside the
characters in those grand palaces.But
even Ravi Verman and Thotta’s magic
could not keep the attention of those who expected more for a whole three
hours.A catnap was needed in the last
third of the movie to get through the rest of it.The songs were good but not as catchy as some
of ARR’s have been in the past. The Tamil language used in the movie also had
bits of colloquial Tamil thrown in small doses like light music tunes thrown in
the middle of a serious kutcheri.Why
underestimate the masses?!If they come
to see a historical fiction movie, they will appreciate the synchrony in the
imagery and language representing that era.
All said, I have to confess that I plan to go see the movie
again with my family.Why? Because it is
the great Ponniyin Selvan and it is decently made even if did not measure up
to the hype.It gave us the excitement
of seeing a grand historical fiction movie based on the great Raja Raja
Chola.It gives us a reason to look him
up and learn about the great ruler and about the awe inspiring Brihadeeshvara
Temple he built.It reminds us that
the complexities of human interactions and emotions were the same thousand
years back. I am grateful to the director Mr. Mani Ratnam for bringing this
novel to life. The amount of research he and his team have put into every
detail in bringing it to life shows and it is much appreciated.This movie demands a cerebral presence as it
is to keep track of the many characters and twists in the plot.When you talk to someone, if they say all the
right words but you don’t feel the authenticity of emotion, you come back
feeling like something was missing.That
is the feeling I had after watching this movie.
Mr. Mani Ratnam is to blame for
setting our expectations high because of how well made some of his past movies
have been.To this day when you think of
the movie Nayagan, you feel connected to it. Ponniyin Selvan as a novel has a
cult following and has been talked about so much that even just attempting to
make a movie has the trappings of a high bar to meet.If Mr. Mani Ratnam could step back and view it
in his home theater by himself away from his adoring fans and the high praise
showered on him, he might be able to tighten it up and deliver an amazing PS2! After
all, for someone of his caliber who has money and success in great measure, if
he doesn’t raise his own bar, what else is left?!