Kumudhavalli

I'd really like it if you read this after watching the movie. There are some spoilers, I think. These are essentially what I felt after watching the movie, most of which have worn out as it's been a day. The men of my stories cry, just like I do. They cry when they miss people, when they see someone they love after long. They cry because that's what relationships do to you, make you go weak in the legs; make you hyperventilate. The men of my stories dream of a time when they were together, when they were happy with whom they think was the love of their lives. Men of my stories have a woman, they walk with the confidence that a woman likes them back. Men of my stories know, and live with, and for a Kumudhavalli.

I am not here to talk about the phenomenon that is Rajinikanth. I am neither an expert in analysing how he can act, nor do I claim to be someone who understands what's realism in cinema. I am here to talk about Kumudhavalli.

We don't know who she is, how she grew up, or why as someone who could have had a better life (in the man's words) than the protagonist of this movie came to be in a Malaysian farm. But I am glad she did, and he sure as hell is glad she did. I have seen many of Rajini's films and what I usually find is him being revered and him making the women fall for him. There are elements of the same in this movie as well, but they turn out to be mere glimpses.

It's the woman who makes the love story this time. She is loved, she is missed, she is longed for. When she cries we cry, and you fear for her life as much as her man does, perhaps even more; because you know they've spent several years apart. And no two people in love deserve to be apart, certainly not for so many years.

They say she's dead. You come to terms with it. You think she is going to be part of some backstory where you're not going to remember her face. Like a distant memory of holding hands and walking with someone for the first time. Something about which you're unsure because you don't really know if you're recounting the moment, or the times you've recounted the memory. You're okay with it. You only know her as someone who used to live.

They say she's alive. The man takes off in search of her. The fear decades of Tamil cinema has planted in you starts to creep in. You spend the rest of the movie waiting for her to die. Why is killing a woman the only way to show how vulnerable her man is? You know when he's the most vulnerable? When she's around. When they haven't met forever, then they do.

When they meet, they start where they left off. This is as real as it gets, because you know it is true, we've been there.

More often than not, when you remove all the elements of a Rajini film, there is very little left. But this movie has this story arc where he explains how she's shaped his life, and how she is important, and why it is important that we should get to know her. He tells us, and we get to know her, and boy are we glad we do. When they meet, you smile because you want to share the joy with them. You want to experience the happiness of meeting someone you love, someone who loves you. And when they cry, you cry with them because you have felt their separation too.

I think that's what stands out in this movie for me. Not his style, not the statements he made, not the bullets he fired, but Kumudhavalli, and her love.

Neengal Kettavai | Thoughts on Uttama Villain

[There are some spoilers in this post, you have been warned. This neither a review, nor an explanation of plot points.]

For me, a movie is good if I liked it. That's pretty much the only benchmark I have. I might have a lot of complaints about it, there might be several things that aren't technically right or illogical, but it doesn't quite matter as long as I come out of the theatre without a headache(ref. Lingaa - what the hell was that?).

It is said that when Balu Mahendra was 'accused' of not being able to make crowd pleasing masala movies, he made Neengal Kettavai with all those elements regarded as crowd pleasing, title being something of a slap to those accusers - here, I've given you what you asked, now what?

Uttama Villain is Kamal's or KB's (there isn't much of a difference in this context) Neengal Kettavai of sorts. In the post movie discussions with my friends, all of us pretty much agreed upon the possibility that KB and Manorajan swapped roles, Margadharisi being Kamal. It was as if KB asked Kamal for a swan song. I am conflicted between trying to find deep, underlying meanings in every dialogue, and just sitting back and be entertained. I thought I'll be able to write a coherent post reflecting on this but I will spare you the pain and make discrete points about what made Uttama Villain work for me. (It is fitting because the movie in itself (and the movie within the movie) was a set of discrete scenes - like a highlights reel).

• KB. It is probably really cold of me but I honestly don't know if Uttama Villain would have worked at the same level for me if KB was still around. This disturbing thought has been lingering on my mind ever since I came out of the movie hall.
• I really like plays. In retrospect, what seemed like actors going overboard with their acting is in fact Kamal and KB going back to the first principles of acting - emoting without subtlety. This definitely wouldn't have worked in, say Panchathanthiram, but it most certainly did here. May be KB wanted to do a drama after all, for one last time.
• I wouldn't want to be Ramesh Aravind :) People aren't crediting him at all. That seems unfair. I don't know how much of a free hand he had in dictating how things shaped up, may be it was a new experience for everyone involved, but it could also be that he was so good at directing that it didn't stand out at all. Like Mysskin said to Madan after Pisasu, (and I paraphrase) if people start noticing the camera work, or the lighting, or some other aspect outside of the screenplay, in that particular scene the story has failed.
• I didn't like pithukuli Pooja at all. If it was a KB movie, may be Sridevi would be playing it? I can see her pulling it off wonderfully.
• I would have really loved to see more of Manoranjan's life. For some reason I keep thinking Abirami (the heroine in Virumandi) would have perfectly suited Yamini's role.
• The whole point of the movie could also be Kamal questioning his own battle against commercial cinema. Just as the movie was facing problems with release I was discussing with my friends that if Kamal was still making Sakalakalavallavan-esque formula movies perhaps he wouldn't be facing so many protests.
• Also just like plenty of others, I felt I saw Nagesh in everything KB did. Everything from him saying, "aiyo" to the shakes in his voice, looks like immortality is a given when you're a true craftsman.
• In the end, he didn't give us a commercial,lazy movie where the hero magically recovers from whatever disease that caught up with him. Saagavaram pol sogam undo?

I saw some brilliant writing. Youngest old man - oldest young man, touché-poosai, and plenty of other things including referencing 'Rime of the Ancient Mariner'. It was fun watching Alavandhan, Punnagai Mannan, and not to forget, Aboorva Ragangal, all revisited like a magician doing his last show, not failing to miss a single fan favourite.

This movie has been more entertaining than most movies that have come out in the recent times. May be we needed this to go back and refresh our idea of a good movie, during the times of formulaic nonsense storylines. I'll stop it here as I'm scared of repeating the same things over and over again, because  theerakadhayai ketpaar undo? 

Theera Kanaa Theera Vizha | Thoughts on OK Kanmani

[I don't think there are any spoilers, but I would really like you to read this after you've seen the movie.]

There are two things that make writing about a really good movie difficult - everything to be said has already been said by someone else, there's plenty to talk about that you are spoilt for what to mention and what to leave.

I, just like several others, got really excited for OK Kanmani after the teaser came out. I knew right then that I would be writing about OK Kanmani, because it has been really long since I got this excited for a movie. I don't know what prompted that emotion, may be because this is the first Mani Ratnam love story I am watching as an adult, after having lived and loved. The Alaipayuthe-2 talks started to surface. Personally, I have seen Karthik and Shakthi's happily ever after. It is done for. They're in their late thirties, with their eldest demanding double digit candles on his birthday cake, and youngest losing her first tooth.

It is time for Adi and Tara. Funny how these commonplace names become, "I am naming my kid that" after Mani uses them. Do you realize how he doesn't give you a background story, how I grew up story for most of his characters? Because we don't need them. Make them fall in love already. We want to hear what he calls her this time around. Calling the girlfriend pondatti has become so commonplace. He tells us, at the beginning of the movie, "Oru oppandham senjupom. Indha sentiment, azhugai, edhuvum vandaam. Sandhoshama irupom indha 2 mani neram, wild-ah." We agree before we know what hit us, and as two people exchange wedding vows, Adi and Tara exchange phone numbers. You leave the next two hours in the hands of Mani, PC, Srikar Prasad and Rahman where they pull one trick after another on you. It is nothing special, but you come out of the theater telling yourself, that's how happy I will be in my life. I can. (While telling your girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife - "Namma kal vaapas varom.")

Now that that's out of the way, it is Bhavani and Ganapathy who stuck with me after I came home from the movie. It has been more than 12 hours since Adi and Tara got married, but I want to go back to the moment when my heart melted as Prakashraj says "Kalaila Ganapathyyyy nu koopudumbodhu ellam seri aidum." May be Mani wanted to warn all of us after he saw how Alaipayuthe ended up shaping how men and women will fall in love in the coming years. When Ganapathy stands there and looks at Bhavani as she is slowly moving her head to Malargalai Keten, and you fully expect him to shed a couple of tears (and he doesn't, you do), Mani is screaming through the silence "You idiots! That's not how it happens, this is how."

Mani is as real as it gets, and Mani is as far away from reality we can go. Everyone is middle class. Everyone has enough money. Karthik and Shakthi did not worry about EB and Phone bills. He knows we don't come to the movie to be reminded of the very things that we came there to forget.

Mani is this person who cannot contain himself when given a stage to tell a story. We often complain a lot that he doesn't talk much, that his characters always have short dialogues. But Mani always conveys a lot more than we hold him accountable for. From Kamal and Saranya in Nayakan, like that famous photo of a couple kissing when a riot was brewing, Amudha longing to give her mother one more hug while a bunch of people are holding with their dear lives to their motherland, to Bhavani. Mani knows that as much as we enjoy the vennpongal that is his unparalleled boy-meets-girl-falls-head-over-heels story, we long for and romanticize the milagu in the form of the mature story that he manages to squeeze in. It is healthy.

According to me, Mani has set everything right and has shaped the next couple of decades of romance.

"Onnala Ganapathy uncle mari irukka mudiyuma?"

"Mudiyum."