A famous Carnatic
maestro named Charukesi receives arguably the worst medical diagnosis for a
creative mind: that he has Alzheimer’s disease. All
his expertise and genius come to nought in a trice. The condition worsens to the point that he recognizes
neither the musical notes that comprises his life’s symphony nor his loving
wife who embodies marital harmony. Does
he ever regain his memory on either the artistic or the personal front? That is the core of “Charukesi.” This heartwarming film is based on the
stage play of the same name. The crux of
the story came from the late Crazy Mohan. Playwright Venkat then developed it into a
script for the stage. Seasoned director
Suresh Krissna has deftly adapted it for the big screen, ably aided by a fabulous
team behind the screen and in front of it.
Among the
biggest strengths of “Charukesi” are the performances of the principal
cast. Suhasini turns in a moving performance
as the wife of the musician. She is
especially lovely in the scene at the beach at the end where she interrupts Sathyaraj
(who plays…let me leave it to you to watch on screen) and says, “please do not
philosophize.” It is an instinctive
reaction of a spouse who is unwilling to accept any reason for her husband’s
condition. (The writing shines like a well-polished
gem in this scene.) “Thalaivasal” Vijay, over the years, has rarely gotten
opportunities that have provided fodder for his immense talent. In this film, he plays the Man Friday of Charukesi. Watch him express his anxiety and restlessness
in the scene with the doctor. Ditto for
a beautiful little moment between him and Suhasini where the latter asks him to
take good care of her husband. That he
is an integral member of their family is established not only through overt lines
but also through little gestures.
Sathyaraj is
cast perfectly.
I am not alluding to the tongue-in-cheek casting of him in a role that
is a stark contrast to his real-life rationalistic beliefs.
He is perfect for the simple reason that he is one of those rare actors
that has the knack of elevating every line with his dialogue delivery. The Zen-like body language and the casual way
of delivering profound lines, do full justice to Pa Vijay’s dialogues. His narration of the deer story and the Vaazhakai
bajji analogy, give us glimpses into what makes him so beloved as an actor. Ramya Pandian is excellent in the scenes
where she turns over a new leaf following a revelation about her past. But the Neelambari-like posture and the
shades of grey aren’t portrayed as effectively.
Given the grounded nature of the rest of the film, that little segment felt out
of place.
Holding the
film together is Y Gee Mahendran, who plays the titular role. He is marvelous in the scenes where the condition
starts to affect his daily routines. Actors playing
roles where there is a medical condition involved, need to exercise great restraint
in order to preserve realism. Mahendran excels
in these portions. There is a quiet moment
between husband and wife where the former repeatedly requests reassurance from the
latter that he has indeed finished dinner.
The repeated lines and the deliberately loose physicality are
brought out intricately by the actor.
One may not
have instinctively associated Deva with classical music.
But just like Mahendran and “Thalaivasal” Vijay, Deva also benefits from
Suresh Krissna’s faith in his talents (given their long association from the
days of “Annamalai”). He rises to the
occasion with a memorable album, whose undisputed highlight is the climactic
song, “Vaa endrathum.” It is masterfully
rendered by Shankar Mahadevan. Some of
Pa Vijay’s lines are beautiful, bringing to life the underlying philosophy
spouted by Ragadevan. A
case in point: “vandhu povadhe nam velai…vazhi nadathuvadhellam avan leelai.” BL Sanjay’s cinematography is top-notch,
be it the manner in which the top angle
shots invisibly build an aura around the Ragadevan character (without overdoing the divinity aspect) or the
way he has lit up Mahendran’s home for the finale.
Films that
are centered around a medical condition with a poor prognosis can easily plunge
the viewer into the depths of sadness.
But “Charukesi” is different. The
delicacy of touch in Suresh Krissna’s screenplay and his surefooted direction
are such that there is an air of hope and positivity throughout. He sidesteps potentially manipulative moments
in service of telling a story where the connection between great pain and
greater artistry is established in an immensely thoughtful manner. The result is a film that is an antidote to
the loudness and violence of some of the commercial potboilers have been flung at us in recent times.
In one
scene, Sathyaraj observes, “avar ipo ninaivillama irukalaam. Aana, avarode ninavugaL indha ulagathode
isaiya olichikute than irukum.” (“He may be losing his memory. But the memories of his music will continue to
play in this world.”) Taking a leaf out
of Ragadevan’s book, one can say that this film may be about a musician with
Alzheimer’s disease. But it plays out as a
gentle melody for the memory bank.
***
Note: The
film is streaming on Amazon Prime.
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