Meiyazhagan: A thing of true beauty

Disclaimer: the write-up does have spoilers. You may want to read it AFTER watching the film.

Walking out of C Prem Kumar’s “Meiyazhagan”, I thought of something that is quite obvious about characters in a film.  We really don’t know them at all before a film's projection begins.  Sure, we can always guess the genre and the flavor of a film by the first look, teaser, trailer and so on.  But every creator has the task of making us care - especially in a drama - about the characters early enough in a film to be invested in them for the duration of the movie.  Let’s first look into what Prem does in the opening sequence of the film.

The prelude of “Meiyazhagan” has to establish the core character of AruL (played masterfully by Arvind Swamy; more on him later).  And what the house and the city that he grew up in, meant to him.  As if to suggest an impending ‘death’ of sorts that AruL is about to experience, the film opens with the shot of a lamp being put out.  We realize that he and his family have lost possession of the house that was, and will always be, an integral part of his identity.  A few deeply poignant moments among the family members play out.  And as they are about to leave, we see a shot where the camera is inside the dark house.  As AruL shuts the door, we, the audience, are in darkness.  The scene does not cut away immediately.  We experience that darkness, that dread for just that one extra second.  Without quite realizing it, we have already felt the pain of a character whom we did not know up until a few moments ago.

In a cute homage to his debut film, the time gap between the events described above (which happen in 19…96!) and the ‘present’ is 22 years.  The scene is now set in 2018. (We even see a poster of "96" later.)  AruL is in Chennai, happily married to Hema (Devadarshini).  He is about to head back to Thanjavur to attend the wedding of his cousin, whom he is very fond of.  We realize that he has resisted the urge to revisit the place - more accurately, his past - all these years.  But he decides to return, nevertheless.  At the wedding, he sees a character (Karthi) who showers all of the world’s affection on him.  But there is a catch.  AruL cannot, for the life of him, remember who he is.  This conceit leads to several laugh-out-loud moments, yes.  More importantly, this leads to a marvelous payoff in the concluding moments of the film.  The rest of the film is about what AruL gets to learn about this character, but more importantly what he learns about himself in the process.

We saw in “96” what Prem was capable of in terms of shaping characters and extracting nuanced performances from the entire cast.  He has taken that trait to stratospheric heights in this film.  Not everyone outside Arvind Swamy and Karthi have a lot of screen time.  But not only are they cast perfectly but also given the chance to shine.  Prem lets each of the characters breathe.  Take the example of Jayaprakash, who plays AruL’s father.  There is a scene where he speaks to Raj Kiran on the phone.  During the course of the conversation, he mists up.  But after they hang up, one would expect the focus to shift back to the wedding hall where the key characters are present.  But Prem has too much delicacy of touch to miss capturing what Jayaprakash’s character would be experiencing.  So, we see an extended shot of him tearing up uncontrollably.  Not only is the actor marvelously expressive.  But we also feel the pain caused by the separation.  That mood is built up moment by beautiful moment, by the filmmaker and his supremely talented actors.

It is not just the heavier, emotional scenes where we see the stamp of a filmmaker that knows exactly the note of performance that he needs from his cast.  We also see it in quieter moments.  Like the moment where Devadarshini switches from the speaker phone to holding her phone to her ear because she can barely contain her excitement.  Or that lovely moment where Sri Divya’s face lights up at the realization that her husband is having a genuinely nice time. 

I have always felt that what separates a lazy director from a thoughtful one is what he does with the persona of an actor.  An actor's persona is just the foundation for the performance, not the performance.  What Prem does with his actors is exactly that.  Devadarshini has a sprightly side to her.  Sri Divya has a charming innocence about her.  Karunakaran has a deadpan hilarity about him.  Raichal Rabecca (who played the kind-hearted magistrate in “Kadaisi Vivasayi”) projects an innate kindness.  These are all on-screen personae which Prem exacts maximum mileage out of by giving the actors some wonderful lines and gorgeously quiet moments to work with.  

And finally, the two lead actors who carry the film - and the trust placed by Prem - on their broad shoulders.  The two actors turn in what are arguably the best performances of their respective careers.  At the start, Arvind Swamy comes across as a crusty, cynical character.  But the moment on stage where we hear his voice quiver, as he tenderly says, “Unaku thane da,” we immediately fall for the character.  Even in scenes where Karthi is doing more of the talking, his reaction shots are precise.  He is equally adept at the conversational moments, like the crucial phone call at the end of the film, as he is at the quieter moments.  Watch him gently embrace Devadarshini from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.  It feels so perfect for what the character has gone through in the hours leading up to that.  And Karthi is a delight.  He plays a do-gooder with the right amount of charm and seriousness.  He delivers his searing monologues beautifully, with voice modulations that we have rarely seen in modern-day actors.  The monologue on people who lost their lives in a protest is a standout.  And he is the life of many a scene, be it singing Ilayaraja songs with gay abandon or engaging in earthy banter with the folks at the wedding hall. He is a livewire yes, but with a lot of heart.  

That Prem (who started his career as a cinematographer) has immense mastery over craft is evident throughout the film, as I had mentioned in regards to the opening sequence too.  But his writing in “Meiyazhagan” is deserving of as much approbation.  The humor is so organically woven into the scenes that it feels like we are laughing at the jokes cracked by people in daily conversations.  But one must not fail to notice some of the subtle elements written into the humor.  For instance, the presence of a snake in the house.  Firstly, it leads to an uproarious moment where Arvind Swamy suddenly switches from English to Thamizh in a moment of panic.  Later we see a shot of a snake by itself, seeming totally comfortable in the surroundings.  And finally, we see Karthi waving a fearless salute at the snake while continuing a conversation.  Through these humorous moments, we also get to realize how Karthi inhabits a world where he is integrated - in all ways - into nature and its beings, in their full glory.  

Some of the social commentary that we see in the second half too, don’t feel out of place, one because of the way they are part of a vibrant dialogue between the characters.  But also because, as Arvind Swamy tells his family at the end, the Karthi character embodies the true definition of love in every facet of life.  Be it his unconditional love for his fellow human beings or his affection towards animals, the latter leading seamlessly to the discussion on what the Jallikattu ban and protests truly meant to those who took care of the bulls.  His love for his city, his ancestors, his heritage, his society are all part of who he is as a person.  And that is precisely why when we hear Arvind Swamy state that he feels ‘small’ in comparison to the Karthi character, that the line truly resonates.  

The music by Govind Vasantha and the cinematography by Mahendran Jayaraju are in perfect sync with the director’s vision.  If “Yaaro ivan yaaro” rendered soulfully by Kamal Hassan is an ode to a life that AruL craves for, the background score also accentuates the impact of several scenes.  Even for the seemingly incidental moments, the score adds immeasurable impact.  Listen to the majestic nadhaswaram that plays when the elephant strides in the temple.  The cinematography not only brings to life the magnificence of Thanjavur (the director’s hometown) but also, in its own way, envelops us in the world inhabited by Karthi. The streets, houses, temples and monuments all develop a life of their own, thanks to the brilliant work of the DOP.  

Genuine love and affection are getting scarcer by the day in this world.  During these times, it is a pleasure to watch a supremely well-made, well-written and well-acted film like this.  It is a movie that re-infuses our faith in humanity and chips away ever so slightly at the cynicism that has seeped into us as a result of all the inequity and depravity that we witness in our society.  In essence, “Meiyazhagan” is a three-hour exhibition of rays of hope that C Prem Kumar and his team have projected onto the silver screen.