I have long maintained that Devasuram, through design or providence, was an inflection point in the career of Mohanlal. If Priyadarshan's Chithram highlighted the actor's slightly tilted gait and effervescent screen presence elevating him from actor to star, Devasuram turned him into a mustache twirling, larger than life superhuman. Mangalassery Neelakantan (Lal's character in the film) would become the singular archetype on which all his later larger than life roles would be based. For years going forward writers and directors would cull out portions from this film and patch their own shoddy sartorial attempts while entirely missing what made Devasuram the wonderful mythical tale it is. Those who would like to see the film for what truly makes it great need look no further than the title itself - it is the story of a man struggling with his own duality; the good and the bad within his own heart. Granted, this isn't the nuanced dilemma of Padmarajan's Thoovanathumbikal, but I.V.Sasi envisions this film as a myth and therefore Neelakantan's problems are of a fundamentally mythical nature.
Neelakantan is a wayward feudal remnant, a naaduvaazhi (landowner) with immense wealth and inordinate amounts of free time. He is by all popular accounts (and even his own as the introduction scene points out), a rascal and petulance personified. Quick to anger and even faster to retribution, Neelakantan has developed a reputation for being a ruffian - one that arises from the immense pride he derives from his exceptional lineage. Warrier (played by Innocent who alternates between august and whimsy with abandon), his manager, is his conscience and man friday - constantly urging him away from the rage and towards the light. All that is good about Neelan lives in art - his salvation lies in his own talents and his ability to foster the talents of others. Even his artistic talents are inherited - while observers point to his father as it's source Neelan knows the true source of the artistic genetics he possesses are from his mother (we see her singing Sarasijanaabha Sodhari in the video as he watches on from his father's lap).
Everytime we see Neelan do something positive it is directly related to his artistic ambitions in one fashion or another. A man who is usually nothing but bombastic or callous in his speech is apologetic in song, as in the video above - where he apologizes to an artist for any humiliation he may have caused due to his unbridled anger. Neelan is incapable of involving himself in anything without a feral intensity and therein lies the dilemma. As an artist one may simply observe; one of the best things about being a fly on the wall is owning the choice to fly away when one chooses to. But as a functioning human being, a part of society it is impossible to decouple oneself from the vicissitudes of social compulsions. This is Neelan's duality - the pure unsullied artist polluted by an ordinary man reacting to ordinary stimuli.
It is almost as a counterpoint to this that we see the character of Peringode Sankara Marar (once again played by a stellar supporting actor - Oduvil Unnikrishnan) presented in some ways as a man who has somehow managed to decouple himself from the push and pull of a relationship laden life. Sankara Marar is a vagabond who walks to the beat of only his chenda (drum). Traveling from one temple festival to another, Sankara Marar passes through Neelan's house on occasion as a mark of artistic camaraderie. Only this time, instead of a rambunctious dilettante, he finds a broken man; a man who has lost his lineage, the use of his limbs, reclined on a chair and possibly dying. And the song he offers as solace is a telling encapsulation of who he is and the sort of mythology that is rarely seen in the films of a similar vein that came later.
Vandhe Mukunda Hare Jaya shourE Sandhaapa haari murarE
Dwapara Chandrika Charchithamaam nindE Dwarakapuri evidE?
Peeli thiLakkavum kOlakkuzhal pAttum ambAdi paikkaLum evidE?
kroora nishada sharam koNdu neerumee nenjinen aathma praNaamam.
Prema swaroopanaam sneha satheerthyandE kaalkalen kanneer praNaamam.
It is the song of a nomadic wayfarer addressing the Lord Krishna who lays dying on the banks of the sea:. Roughly translated it asks him:
Where is your city that all who lived in Dwapara Yuga looked upon with wonder?
Where is your shining peacock feather now?
Where is the flute ever ready with song and the attendant cattle?
O king, who lies drawing his last breaths on the arrow of the Nishada who shot you,
O embodiment of love and all that is pure, I bow before thee.
The man who lay dying before the singer is a king, maybe even a god, but it is not the artist's job to help or interfere. It is not his place to offer assistance. His lot in life is to sing and then, just like Peringode Sankara Marar, disappear quietly into the night.
Neelakantan is a wayward feudal remnant, a naaduvaazhi (landowner) with immense wealth and inordinate amounts of free time. He is by all popular accounts (and even his own as the introduction scene points out), a rascal and petulance personified. Quick to anger and even faster to retribution, Neelakantan has developed a reputation for being a ruffian - one that arises from the immense pride he derives from his exceptional lineage. Warrier (played by Innocent who alternates between august and whimsy with abandon), his manager, is his conscience and man friday - constantly urging him away from the rage and towards the light. All that is good about Neelan lives in art - his salvation lies in his own talents and his ability to foster the talents of others. Even his artistic talents are inherited - while observers point to his father as it's source Neelan knows the true source of the artistic genetics he possesses are from his mother (we see her singing Sarasijanaabha Sodhari in the video as he watches on from his father's lap).
Everytime we see Neelan do something positive it is directly related to his artistic ambitions in one fashion or another. A man who is usually nothing but bombastic or callous in his speech is apologetic in song, as in the video above - where he apologizes to an artist for any humiliation he may have caused due to his unbridled anger. Neelan is incapable of involving himself in anything without a feral intensity and therein lies the dilemma. As an artist one may simply observe; one of the best things about being a fly on the wall is owning the choice to fly away when one chooses to. But as a functioning human being, a part of society it is impossible to decouple oneself from the vicissitudes of social compulsions. This is Neelan's duality - the pure unsullied artist polluted by an ordinary man reacting to ordinary stimuli.
It is almost as a counterpoint to this that we see the character of Peringode Sankara Marar (once again played by a stellar supporting actor - Oduvil Unnikrishnan) presented in some ways as a man who has somehow managed to decouple himself from the push and pull of a relationship laden life. Sankara Marar is a vagabond who walks to the beat of only his chenda (drum). Traveling from one temple festival to another, Sankara Marar passes through Neelan's house on occasion as a mark of artistic camaraderie. Only this time, instead of a rambunctious dilettante, he finds a broken man; a man who has lost his lineage, the use of his limbs, reclined on a chair and possibly dying. And the song he offers as solace is a telling encapsulation of who he is and the sort of mythology that is rarely seen in the films of a similar vein that came later.
Vandhe Mukunda Hare Jaya shourE Sandhaapa haari murarE
Dwapara Chandrika Charchithamaam nindE Dwarakapuri evidE?
Peeli thiLakkavum kOlakkuzhal pAttum ambAdi paikkaLum evidE?
kroora nishada sharam koNdu neerumee nenjinen aathma praNaamam.
Prema swaroopanaam sneha satheerthyandE kaalkalen kanneer praNaamam.
It is the song of a nomadic wayfarer addressing the Lord Krishna who lays dying on the banks of the sea:. Roughly translated it asks him:
Where is your city that all who lived in Dwapara Yuga looked upon with wonder?
Where is your shining peacock feather now?
Where is the flute ever ready with song and the attendant cattle?
O king, who lies drawing his last breaths on the arrow of the Nishada who shot you,
O embodiment of love and all that is pure, I bow before thee.
The man who lay dying before the singer is a king, maybe even a god, but it is not the artist's job to help or interfere. It is not his place to offer assistance. His lot in life is to sing and then, just like Peringode Sankara Marar, disappear quietly into the night.
I haven't seen the film yet, but just the way you describe it makes me want to see it soon. Superb article! There is but one word to describe this - rasanai.
ReplyDeleteThank you Vijay. Do watch the film if you understand Malayalam. I've presented a very small section of it.
ReplyDeleteFinally got around to watching to Devasuram which you recommended to me almost a decade back. Read this past right after the watch and then again.Typically well written.
ReplyDeleteAs you observe, we are so inclined to think of the other man; MAN (ah! njaan thannA mannaarthudi) and yes, his dilemma is so much more nuanced.
That said, I just couldn't keep him far away as I was watching this film. So much so that I ended up feeling Devasuram was a film were the parts were greater than the sum. Especially the mythical build-up was so essential, but the adversary was so underdone that the final face-off was a bit of a squib. This is despite the perfect masalaic placement in the placement, we are where it all started, Neelan ruined the last festival just for larks and Shekaran is justified in wanting to trounce him in that occasion. But how weak it sounds when verbalized, how empty it is when he has himself, in a supposedly meant to be sparks-flying confrontation, said he wanted the old Neelan back so he could defeat him properly. At the very least it could have made a point about stopping Neelan from leaving for Delhi and settling the score. All these very 'masala' points were flubbed IMO.
And yes, the ending works ONLY as something mythical and transcending the mere real. 'Really' speaking dismembering Shekaran doesn't make sense if Neelan wants peace. The mythical Neelan is disarming him.
1/n
/ one of the best things about being a fly on the wall is owning the choice to fly away when one chooses to. But as a functioning human being, a part of society it is impossible to decouple oneself from the vicissitudes of social compulsions. /
ReplyDeletePrecisement!Given this was written 9 years ago, perhaps if you read it now, your preoccupations at the time of writing this may itself be interesting :-)
And one can't but think of Jeyakrishnan in this manner too.
Both of them are sons of jurists. They have a tharavAdu name to keep up.Jeyakrishnan seems to manage his dualities by keeping his worlds apart. But he hasn't actually been vulnerable, the 'feral intensity' isn't his. He is in control, but is he the better for it? When his vulnerabilities are bared, he doesn't know.
I am always touched by the visuals of mégham poothu thodangi. Whose dream is that exactly? Clara's? But she does leave him the next day. Jeyakrishnan's indeed then. He is dreaming of all the intimate moments of coupledom with her in his life. In his own comfort zone. Teaching her to drive his fiat, milking his cow, sitting his house veranda and what not. Just a few weeks prior to that he had proposed to Radha. If this is not intensity, what is!
Clara is the link to his two worlds. Well, so is Rishi - but he is more of a stand-in for the audience; a witness not a participant. And by being able to talk about Clara to Radha, she too links his two worlds. And his dilemma is shared.
2/n
It seems ridiculous to compare such a man to Mangalesery Neelakantan, who spares no energy in bringing disrepute to his own. When we see him, it is already three years since his mother left the house; after which he supposedly unceremoniously dumped Subhadra.
ReplyDeleteWe are shown a couple of instances of the warmth she still has for him. Surely their relationship wasn't merely transactional. It urges one to think she meant something to him and yet he let her go, for his mother's sake. And yet his mother stayed away. Did she consider her son's change too little too late? Did he feel more hurt that his gesture wasn't acknowledged? And was it his response to debauch himself further? We will never know.
Neelan: Variyer, have you thought why I've become like this?Variyer: chindhichittu oru eththum pidiyum kittAdha kAryam
3/n
/A man who is usually nothing but bombastic or callous in his speech is apologetic in song/
ReplyDeleteOh yes. This is so effortlessly achieved in the film. All gentle moments of Neelan in the first half are in song.The first time we see him when he isn't being a bully, is when he is singing in the temple. Simply losing himself in the bhakthi.
Just as he starts 'maappu nalku' his rufian acolyte runs in and fetches the mridangam as Dr.Jekyll seems to be turning up.
And while the drunk acolytes are laughing at Appu maashe's wadrobe malfunction, Neelakantan is actually absorbed in the song. When Bhanu appears and gives him a 'how much more can you demean us' stare, it is such a layered moment!
Neelan appears like he would want to say: 'it's not at all like what it seems. I am NOT part of the laughing cheapsters' but - Neelan being Neelan - won't bother saying any of that; and would smart under the misperception, by protesting to be 'okay with that'.....like someone would have nAringa veLLam.
Btw, if I am not wrong he plays the mridangam but what we hear is cheNda méLam right?
4/n
vandé mukunda haré is such a gem.
ReplyDeleteTheir earlier conversation was about the vagabond chastising Neelan for not practicing in his absence. But now there is nothing simple and 'real'. The aesthetic is mythic.
There is something about frames where the silhoutte is bathed in light, isn't it?This song needs to be sung from such a distance (and what a 'real' reason Marar gives for not coming closer and seeing Neelan).
Is the kroora nishAdan simply Shekaran? Or generally the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' ? Not real and specific, it is indeed a moment with mythical resonance.
n/n