About Me

Prone to hyperbole. Self indulgent to a fault. Compulsive Liar. Inveterately Honest. Obviously Oxymoronic.
Showing posts with label Tamil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tamil. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Of Awards and Films



The introductions to Satyajit Ray’s “Our Films Their films” and Michael Ondaatje’s “The conversations, a chronicle of his interactions with that doyen of the editing room Walter Murch, emphasize a single universal truth about cinema. Neither the making nor the success of a film can be laid at the feet of a person. As I contemplated the windfall of National Awards that found their way to the doorstep of the Tamil Film industry in the in the middle of May, I could not but appreciate the applicability of this plurality. After all, this sudden glut of recognition for the films of Tamil Nadu is not entirely due to a surge in the quality of output. While they are not entirely gratuitous, it would be simplistic to ignore the other influences that affect the decisions of award juries.

Consider, for instance, the increasingly altered attitude that committees in recent years have adopted towards the populist cinema in our paradigm. Time was when the national awards were the dominion of obscure art house flicks, directed by people that Romy Rolly, that quintessential old school producer from Zoya Akhtar’s Luck By Chance, would derisively address as ‘instoot’. Over the last decade juries have openly embraced the cinema that graces our pop culture and the box office for longer periods of time (this, despite a special award for films that provide “wholesome entertainment”, as if that were somehow independent of the quality of the film). Another factor that is discussed much less frequently are the behind the scenes lobbying mechanisms. While a majority of us ordinary citizens remain insulated from such machinations it would be naïve to assume that they do not exist. And so a number of evolving factors, some entirely outside the imaginations of the popular conscious, possibly contributed to the prizes sent the way of Tamil cinema.

Therefore I prudently decided to restrict my pondering to the realm of comparative cinematic appreciation, but even this is fraught with danger. As a film enthusiast, I am cursed with an incurable condition. A condition that sets my pulse racing and adrenaline pumping at the very thought of a new release. Two decades ago a release only meant a film print being acquired by a local theater of reasonable proximity. Today, however, the word release has come to signify a wide array of possibilities. Home video has made available anything from an extended director’s cut of a cult classic to the digital remastering of an obscure European film. Subtitles ensure that linguistic differences do not stand in the way of cinematic experience. Yet, as I watch those translated and transcribed words appear in white italics scroll through the bottom of my screen, there is always a niggling doubt in the recesses of my cranium. Watching films in languages foreign to the four I understand, always leaves me worried that I am missing out on some nuance or idiomatic humor and in thus experiencing less of the film than a native speaker. I could not imagine a more nightmarish assignment than having to objectively evaluate the multiple regional language films and adjudicate that one is better than the other. An honest evaluation would restrict us purely to an estimation of the outputs within each regional paradigm.

And so, this is what I will attempt to do – restrict myself to the celluloid commerce of Tamil Nadu and if possible understand its vicissitudes purely in relation to itself. Are these awards the crescendo of a growing creative wave that will sustain or are they a freakish, one-off occurrence? Is there a silent renaissance happening in the cinema of our southern tip and if so what has fomented it?

Let us hark back to the early seventies to see if we can glean a larger narrative over the course of time. By 1975 the sturdy star hierarchies of sixties Tamil Cinema had peaked and were on he decline. Those were, in some senses, the lost years the industry’s lost years. K.Balachander, the recipient of the 2010 Dada Saheb Phalke award and the source from whom the star systems of the eighties would spring forth, remained the lone stalwart. With his countering of middle class hypocrisies and strong female characters he established beyond a reasonable doubt that an auteur of substance could be a box office draw. Slowly but surely these trying times became a fertile ground for a generation of directors who would mould the popular consciousness the next decade, in both urban and rural contexts. In quick succession Mahendran, Mani Ratnam, Balu Mahendra and Bharathiraja all made creatively impressive debuts. Until the total ascendance of Rajinikanth and Kamal Hassan into stars with combative coteries, these were the names that drew audiences to theatres. It was also the age of Ilaiyaraaja, the man who would, in many ways, redefine the scope and influence that music could have in films.

Fast-forward to the beginning of 2004 and history, as it is wont to, had found a way to repeat itself though not in an entirely similar fashion. The frequency of film output from the two reigning stars in the state had unquestionably waned. The only Rajinikanth release between the roaring successes of Padaiyappa in 1999 and Chandramukhi in 2005 was the rather unremarkable, Baba. Consequently the intervening years were surrendered, not entirely but in large part, to the antics of poseurs. The result was a spate of soulless, formulaic films filled with foregone conclusions that remain nearly indistinguishable for anyone not entirely enamored by the mechanics. Of the famed directors of the eighties Balu Mahendra, Mahendran and Bharathiraja had all but stopped making films (they have each made only one film since). This time around it was Mani Ratnam, the man who had come define what it meant to be an urban upper middle class young man in Tamil Nadu, who remained the last standing stalwart. The three Tamil films he made during this otherwise barren patch only underscore my disappointment at his progression to bigger canvases and mixed results. Even that reliable bastion of vigilante films, Shankar, only produced Boys, an honest yet amateurish attempt, during this period. Kamal Hassan, the other star in the constellation continued his efforts to defy classification, attempting to straddle the parallel tightropes of sidesplitting comedy and sincere artistry at once. But these two cineastes, in new avatars and a few maverick filmmakers, would reorient the direction that the industry was taking.

In the five-year period between 1999 and 2004, Kamal Hassan directed two features. The first of these, Hey Ram, was a sprawling epic that attempted to trace the tail of the serpent of communalism in a free India. Unfortunately this multi-lingual pan Indian effort, while still critically lauded, did not make the impact it deserved. What did leave an indelible mark was his latter attempt in 2004. Where Hey Ram’s spatial coordinates stretched the length and breadth of our subcontinent, Virumandi restricted its location to a specific region of Tamil Nadu. But in its subtle depiction of the mutable nature of truth and agrarian politics he painted a riveting picture of rural Tamil Nadu that went well beyond simple star crossed romance or a cursory commentary on the inequities of caste. Shankar’s impact would not come from the director’s chair but through his independent film production company. Produced S Pictures, Balaji Sakthivel’s Kadhal would go on become one of the most influential films of the decade. To describe Kadhal on paper would be to reduce its cinematic splendor to absurdity. It is a simple rich girl – poor boy love story set in a suburb of Madurai and employs every commonly seen cinema trope in these situations. Yet the sympathy it awards its characters, its portrayal of the lack of privacy in our cities and its unfailing seriousness elevated the film to iconic status. Both Virumandi and Kadhal were harbingers. Whether they began Tamil cinema’s march to Madurai or were simple the first to see an opportunity to tell untold stories, we may never know.

In the coming years Tamil filmdom has marched on Madurai like never before, sometimes armed with well crafted screenplays and at other times hoping to find some external inspiration in its soil. Majority of these films feature bearded wastrels, half-saree clad heroines and stylized, gratuitous violence. The first of these films, and the one with the most influence on the template was Ameer’s immensely successful and critically acclaimed film Paruthiveeran. The brutality in Paruthiveeran is placed on a pedestal, so much so it earned the epithet ‘Cruel Cinema’ at a University of California Berkeley Film Program (Link reference: http://www.bampfa.berkeley.edu/film/FN18956). Its characters are so given to the hacking and hewing of the curved blade of the sickle that a viewer could be forgiven for believing that violence is the central point, the reason for existence even, of the film. The second aspect of Paruthiveeran that caught on like wildfire was the sarcastic humor derived from the lilting dialect spoken in the Madurai area. With this film the hinterlands of Ramanathapuram had arrived as the go-to location for filming.  Today lesser filmmakers land in Madurai armed with cast, crew and flimsy scripts believing that the producer’s returns are guaranteed by location, dialect, the two earlier tropes discussed and one more borrowed from Subramaniapuram – the sanctity of friendship.

If Tamil cinema were to be believed, one of the important choices facing the Tamil male, whether he may be a city or mofussil resident, is between his male friends and the girl he is wooing. The dilemma, labeled “friend or figure” in the local parlance, is central to Sasikumar’s explosive debut film Subramaniapuram and the more recent Nadodigal. These two films elevated a conflict that had predominantly been comic fodder for Tamil filmmakers into a defining problem of the age. Set in the eighties, Subramaniapuram tracks the lives, love and death of a band of unemployed young men exploited for political gain. One of the key moments in the film is the betrayal of one of the young men by his lover. The elegiac execution of this sequence is one of the films lasting impacts.  This disillusionment with the traditional mores of cinematic romance has also in some ways become a signature trope in the Tamil cinema of today with fewer and fewer simple boy-meets-girl, boy-gets-girl romances being made. Opposition to romance is no longer purely external to the relationship. It isn’t dissenting parents or guardians but the characters themselves who are conscious of class differences and practical difficulties. This realization is not restricted to the rural love stories of Madurai alone. The angst and internal strife is present in the context and psyche of filmmakers who specialize in the urban milieu as well.

Despite making his debut with a romantic comedy, Gautham Menon, Tamil cinema’s urban filmmaker of this generation, earned his stripes through gritty cop stories. But when he decided to follow up an intensely personal film, dedicated to his father, with a love story about a cinema crazy lad and commitment-phobic lass it came as no surprise. For even in his earlier films his penchant for the romantic interlude had endeared him to the anglophile urban youth in the major cities of the state. This love story, Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya, went on to become a smashing success on the strength of A.R.Rahman’s music and the vacillating characterization of Jessie, its female protagonist. Despite their varied locations from rural to urban, films such as Vinnaithandi Varuvaaya, Nadodigal and Subramaniapuram are all aimed at the same demographic – the young, educated and upwardly mobile exposed to the cadences of Hollywood and European film. This comes as no surprise because most of the filmmakers themselves belong to this demographic. They also seek to repudiate some of the romantic notions fed to them by the earlier generation while remaining conscious of the contributions to their growth. Consider for instance the recurring presence of Ilaiyaraaja numbers in the background scores of a number of these films. This is undoubtedly a tribute to the most prolific composer of the most widely listened form of music of the formative years of these filmmakers. This regional aural influence combined with the visual aesthetics of the west (from the long tracking shots Scorsese employs in Goodfellas to the more recent slick editing and quick flash cuts) has become par for the course in today’s Tamil Cinema.

It is to the industry’s credit and benefit, however, that this generalization is not all encompassing. Within the paradigm there do exist iconoclast filmmakers who consciously reject a western influence. The first of these is Mysskin – who aptly borrows his pseudonym from the pages of Dostoevsky – claims to have stumbled into filmmaking after working myriad odd jobs, most famously in one of Chennai’s prominent bookstores. From his very first film Mysskin adopts a visual style that is influenced more by the fareast in general and Kurosawa in particular. Mysskin’s films exhibit a persistent reticence for obvious visuals, often adopting camera angles that may seem gimmicky for the untrained eye, but always have interesting payoffs for the patient and more discerning viewer. While the penchant for stylized violence is present even in his films, the modus operandi is far removed from the usual fare. Despite what detractors may have to say about the filming techniques he employs there is no doubt that he is an important voice. The preference he exhibits for the darker aspects of the human psyche makes him an important counterpoint to the larger filmmaking community.

Yet another independent voice, someone who almost always raises eyebrows with his choice of subjects, is the 2009 National Award winner for best director, Bala. Of his four released films, the last two have both been recognized on the national stage. Pithamagan garnered a national acting award for its leading man Vikram for his portrayal of Siththan, overgrown man-child raised in a graveyard. Characterization’s that are difficult to envision and nearly impossible to pull off seem to be Bala’s forte. His 2009 film Naan Kadavul, which brought him his first national award was detailed the story of an Aghori ascetic who walks into the lives of a group of physically disabled people and delivers one of them from worldly suffering. With a visual style perfected over his first two films and a caustic sense of humor that draws us into his universe and past his characterizations, Bala has created a niche for himself that may never be perfectly understood. This may be for the better, for it means his style may never be replicated. The one person that Bala does have in common with a slew of filmmakers now making interesting films in Chennai is his mentor – Balu Mahendra.

When Sethu, Bala’s first film, released in 1999 it was the first in a series of illustrious debuts that Balu Mahendra’s assistants would make. Despite being one of the most influential cinematographers and visual artists to take residence in Chennai, Balu Mahendra hardly seemed to influence Bala’s preoccupations or aesthetic. As more and more of his pupils, Ram with Katrathu Thamizh and Vetrimaaran in Pollathavan both in 2007, made impressive debuts it became obvious that this lack of overpowering influence was not an exception. Bharathiraja’s assistants, Bhagyaraj and Pandiarajan who would go on to make several entertainers in the eighties, all showed a definite influence of their mentor in their films. It was their individual sense of humor that helped carve their niche. Balu Mahendra’s pupils however exhibit significantly different creative concerns from their guru. These concerns are often very divergent and have little in common with each other as well and one must give Balu Mahendra credit for allowing his assistants to grow into their own creative spaces.

While speaking about this years multiple award winner Aadukalam, its director Vetrimaaran quite clearly states that while it is a fine film it is only a step forward in his oeuvre. Anyone who has the matter-of-fact finale of Aadukalam will also realize that Dhanush, the protagonist and star of the film, and Vetrimaaran were much more committed to finding an honest conclusion to the tale they were weaving than creating a grandiose statement in favor of the trappings of image. It is this sort of filmmaker – one who is aware of the larger narrative and invested in stories of his characters – who should be the torchbearer of the industry moving forward. Investors in cinema should ensure that such voices are not crushed or shepherded towards mediocrity in the search for returns. Today there exists in Tamil the two things conducive for a renaissance of sorts: a quorum of committed creators and an audience that is requesting for creative experimentation. The regular star powered action fare has consistently found failure at the box office. If harnessed appropriately I believe that there is reason for hope and that good things lie in wait. 

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Today I make my debut on First Post...

... with a piece on Aaranya Kaandam. I really enjoyed the film, especially after tracking it for a long time and if it is playing at a theater near you, I think you should head out and watch it. More than once even. Here is the piece. Do read.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

God is in the details

Unaware of the atmospheric allusions to the impending rapture, I set out to watch Suseendran's Azhagar Saamiyin Kuthirai this past Friday. Having already read Baskar Sakthi's short story I was fully primed for the humor which is one of the constant undercurrents running through the film. No situation is too serious, no communal injustice so grave that a joke may not be made at its expense. And yet we are never aware of sitting on the cusp of a joke, thanks in large part to the constant ebb and flow of the narrative and the absorbing background score. A parallel presence, and one that actually serves to relegate the humor to the undercurrent where it belongs, is the persistent manner in which the film engages with the concept of 'god'.

Consider for a moment the level of control a creator exercises over his/her story; the ability to introduce, govern growth and eventually redeem a cast of characters. The scale of his world is entirely in his hands - what details he furnishes and what he discerns as worth omitting are all purely decisions on his part. And yet the best creations are often the ones where we do not see his hands. After all, visible strings and their movement will immediately reduce the simulated reality to a puppet show and no artist wants to be indicted with the creation of a puppet show (unless that was the original intention). The artistic pride of a creator, however, is constantly egging him to leave his mark behind. "How will this world remember you when you are gone?" it asks. (I think a morbid fascination with death is a cheap commodity among artists. This is a supply driven economy.) So the onus is on the imagineer (credit to Disney) to be memorable without being obtrusive. So much so that Roland Barthes even wrote an essay questioning his existence. In this sense the creator has much in common with his capitalized counterpart - The Creator (God).

Azhagar Saamiyin Kuthirai the film expands on Baskar Sakthi's eponymous short story with a few simple additions and modifiers. When I say expands I do not mean just in canvas alone, which it does by providing the real horse (a curious throwback to the white steeds of the Ashwamedha) and its childlike owner a background, I also imply an expansion in the philosophical implications due to the modifiers. While the story of the horse's owner and his beauteous bride attempt to flesh out what was a pure Macguffin in the story, it does not do what a few simple modifications in the story's ending does to elevate the film. What the conclusion facilitates is the ardent conviction in the fact that each character's internal conversation with God continues through whatever means necessary.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

TROIS

For miners of conflict and subtext, monogamy and its bureaucratic consequence, marriage, are a mother lode. This is why writers and filmmakers over the years have returned to this cave time and again to harvest the mineral that drives drama – conflict. Often, two well-written characters are sufficient to generate the friction necessary for onscreen fireworks. But when a romance or relationship progresses without any hiccups, dramatics are precipitated by the introduction of a third character. Marriage is ill equipped to handle a third wheel: an already precarious balance will be tilted, sometimes beyond recovery. Pulling the strings on this teetering three-wheeler is how auteurs have the audience on tenterhooks. A brief stroll down the by lanes of Tamil cinema will reveal that all of its iconoclast filmmakers have mined this same source.

Sridhar, the first name that comes to mind when we speak of star directors, made a musical masterpiece on the travails of an old lover unintentionally returning to haunt a married woman. What made Chitralaya’s Nenjil Or Alayam absorbing was the circumstance of the re-introduction. Seetha meets her old beau, Murali, at his hospital where she has arrived to find a cure for her husband Venu’s cancer. Set entirely within the confines of Dr.Murali’s hospital , the film touches upon the general tragedies of life and disease – a callous husband who wishes to leave his ailing wife, a child far too young to be diagnosed with anything other than a toothache being committed to a hospital bed. However, the central focus of the film is the ethical dilemma faced by Murali and the moral one face by Seetha. There is a stroke of Sridhar mischievousness even in the naming of his characters as he surreptitiously reopens the wounds of the Ramayana by placing a question of faith in front of a Seetha. However neither of his male protagonists are the embodiment of evil. They are more or less the same person as is reflected in their names: Venu and Murali are both just names for the flute in the hands of Krishna. There is no clear choice between options and while the audience is entirely aware of the right moral decision even our minds are clouded by our affections for both Dr.Murali and Venu.

The central tension in the film is a result of Murali and Seetha trying to hide their erstwhile romance from Venu and giving him the succor to survive. However, astute husband that he is, Venu senses the tension between his wife and his doctor. Over the course of 2 hours Sridhar explores the personal dilemmas of these three characters, aided by M.S.Viswanathan, T.K.Ramamurthy and Kannadasan’s brilliance. While the resolution eventually appears rather tragically and simplistically Nenjil Or Alayam is an entertaining melodrama that ever so slightly tilted the moral prism through which we view marriage.

Over his career K.Balachander has repeatedly explored marriages from, Iru Kodugal to Sindhu Bhairavi, each time broaching the topic in a confrontational manner. There is a greater grey area in the premise of Iru Kodugal because the male protagonist, played by Gemini Ganesan, was married to both the women in his life. In Sindhu Bhairavi, however, Sulakshana clearly had the legal upper hand. But such laws have always been purely nominal for artists, especially famous ones. If Sowcar Janaki’s lack of education and societal status was the source of discontent in Iru Kodugal it was Sulakshana’s tone deafness that led to her nearly losing her husband in Sindhu Bhairavi. Many of us turn our backs on fights not out of fear of the opponent, but out fear of embarrassment. Not Balachander’s women. No pining away in silence against the inequities of society or the men they were involved with. They raised cudgels and storms and were unembarrassed to do so. For an audience conditioned to accept docile it was refreshing to see the unabashed fight in his women. In many ways his angst ridden, freedom-seeking characters were what made the outgoing, bubbly female protagonists of the eighties possible. And the Mahendran was one of the first to write such a character.

Nenjaththai Killathe’s Viji is, in some ways, a progenitor of the mischievous, youthful, urban female protagonist we would begin to see consistently through the eighties. With a vision of a jean clad girl dancing to a vinyl of the Beegees our films had begun to accurately represent our women. Unlike the typical heroine who had until then shied away at the mere mention of a man, Viji could be seen eating in restaurants with and playing pranks on the men in her life. The film also marked the arrival of another construct that was becoming more and more of a reality, an unhappy home. With only the dysfunctional relationship between her brother and his wife to draw from, it is no surprise that Viji has no frame of reference to build a healthy relationship on. She decides, more on impulse than on anything else, to wed her friend Ram, against the better judgment of her brother. When her sister-in-law’s meddling results in that relationship falling through she consents to marry Pratap, a photographer and family friend, under duress. And without further ado she proceeds to transfer the frustrations of her failed relationship with Ram into her marriage with Pratap. Importantly the hiding and walking on eggshells that characterized the proceedings in Nenjil Or Alayam is absent in Nenjathai Killathe. Pratap is aware of Viji’s dalliance with Ram and is patient with her because of this. But eventually unhealthy relationship at home affects his professional output as well. With his job ad life on the ropes Pratap decides to leave the city and Viji is left with the choice of staying in the marriage or railing against her lost cause of a romance.

The most famous of the ‘Viji’ prototypes that would follow was Mani Ratnam’s Divya. Mouna Raagam will a live on in the memories of the Tamil cinefan for its iconic background score, the Karthik cameo and his fond invitation of a certain Mr.Chandramouli. At its core the film is the journey of a young woman from the denial of a loss to the acceptance of a new relationship. Despite being married to Chandrakumar who, in her own father’s words, is a gem of a man, the ghost of Divya’s boyfriend, Manohar, looms large over her. Divya bargains for a divorce with her husband in a futile effort to remain faithful to a memory, a pleading that eventually turns into anger when Chandrakumar makes an attempt to buy her affections. After a depressing period where communication between her and Chandrakumar breaks down she accepts the truism that there is no way to move but forward. Her Kubler-Ross journey is complete and the ghost of her relationship with Manohar is exorcised.


In all of the landmark films explored above marriages were tested, sometimes to the breaking point, but spouses always ended up in each others arms. The sanctity of the institution of marriage and the concept of a singular spouse was conserved. This, however, has not always been the case. Two of Tamil cinema’s most famed directors have been contrarians. In Mudhal Mariyadhai, Bharatiraja tells the story of Malaichamy who is trapped in a loveless marriage to Ponnatha. Malaichamy commands immense respect from the people of his village but is unable to elicit any from his wife who still holds a torch for her former flame. When Kuyilu, a new migrant to the village, rekindles his youth he is more than happy to indulge her whimsy. What begins as a tussle turns into an inexplicable affection between the much married man and Kuyilu: an affection that will eventually take precedence over his marriage. Bharathiraja uses the relationships in the film as a commentary on caste and its subliminal presence in our interactions. By painting Ponnaatha as a woman with few redeeming qualities he manages to successfully have his audience sympathize with the extra-marital relationship. Balu Mahendra’s Rettai Vaal Kuruvi, however, has no larger concerns than those of his protagonist Gopi. Despite a loving wife and a largely untroubled life, Gopi falls in love with, marries and begins a dual life with another woman. While he is aware of the morally dubious nature of his behavior he inhabits Gopi is largely unapologetic. The tone of the film is not critical of its protagonist, taking a largely humorous attitude towards proceedings. Eventually unable to handle simultaneous pregnancies Gopi slips up and the two women in his life discover each other. But the grave consequences one anticipates never occur with the two spouses agreeing to live amicably. To share and share alike when it comes to a partner is not a common conclusion. One wonders if a Rettai Vaal Kuruvi would ever be possible if made with a female protagonist romancing two men. Having explored nearly every facet of the man-woman dynamic, a non-judgmental film with this perspective may be the last remaining frontier for Tamil cinema. 


An edited version appears here.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

TRIPLE THREAT



In the movie business spotting the defining characteristic or performance of a star is purely a post-facto exercise. The most often-used term while describing stardom is a testament to how undefined this science is: rising stars are purported to have ‘it’ or a ‘certain je ne sais quoi’, which quite simply means their on screen aura is the result of something inexpressible. In the Thamizh industry, however, our largest stars seem to have a few common rites of passage – career defining turns as honest cops or multiple roles in the same film. Yesteryear stars M.G.Ramachandran and Sivaji Ganesan saw commercial success and gained critical acclaim through films like Nadodi Mannan, Ragasiya Police, Navaratri and Thangappathakkam. The two stars in today’s thamizh cinema constellation have a curious similarity in this regard. Watershed films in the careers of both Rajnikanth and Kamal Hassan combined both these of passage.
In the decade that would decide their futures, both Kamal Hassan and Rajinikanth played triple roles in career-defining films. The first of these to reach the audience was Moondru Mugam. Released in 1982, the film is one of many landmarks in the storied career of Rajinikanth. It garnered him a state award, reinforced his already burgeoning star power and underlined his stature as the style icon of the generation. The second film, Aboorva Sagodharargal, released in 1989 is not just a landmark film in the career of its star. It would go on to become one of the largest commercial successes in the history of Tamil cinema, immediately after its release. And it would become the epitome of a defining characteristic of the second pole star in our sky, a penchant for strenuous physical transformation.

Titles credit the stories of Moondru Mugam and Aboorva Sagodharargal to Selvakumar and Panchu Arunachalam respectively. A purely bird’s eye view of the plots may not indicate much of a difference. Both films are about a righteous cop who finds himself on the wrong side of a power equation. When he is brutally murdered by an arch nemesis, his family is separated with his twin sons growing up unaware of each other’s existence. Eventually when one of the sons realizes his origins he serves the villain and his henchmen their just desserts – a dish best served cold. But the similarities end there.

Moondru Mugam is unapologetic populist fare that cloaks a study on the duality of an individual. Late last year, hordes of Rajnikanth fans watched with a whistle on their lips as Chitti 2.0, red chip and all, cackled maniacally as he walked amidst a congregation of clones. “Who is the black sheep?” he asked with derision. The more seasoned filmgoers in the audience had witnessed something similar nearly seventeen years earlier in single screen theaters. It was the same uber-stylisation that had been the draw of the brash cop in Moondru Mugam, Alex Pandian. The downward tilt of the lip, the purposefully measured gait and the zipping sounds highlighting his hand movements were the very elements that made a superstar of an actor. Though it was Rajinikanth playing the sons John and Arun as well it was the father who walked away with the kudos. This was because Alex Pandian was essentially a bad boy gone good. He wore his propriety on his puffed out chest and taunted his adversaries with it. His confidence was a result of the moral high ground he occupied and bordered on hubris.

The dynamics of Aboorva Sagodharargal is entirely different, in that the film demonstrates a deftness of screenplay and a darker sense of humor while working entirely within an industry-approved commercial format. It is also a film where a son is far more fondly remembered than the father. In the audience conscious it is Appu, the devious dwarf of a son, who remains as the lasting memory of the film. This is a completely acceptable reaction. After all even the titles seem to recognize only the two brothers. However for the discerning few, Sethupathy, Alex Pandian’s counterpart in this film, is an exceptionally well-defined character despite his brief appearance. His vernacular and actions paint a vivid picture of a righteous cop from Tirunelveli who goes up against the local crime syndicate only to have the legal system fail him and then be brutally murdered. Appu carries the burden of Sethupathy in his stunted growth and it is he who rightfully avenges his father while his younger, more congenial brother Raja plays lover boy and sidekick. So when you recall in awe the technical artistry that went into bringing Appu to life, do spare a thought for his forgotten father as well.

Moondru Mugam and Aboorva Sagodharargal are not companion films by any measure. But they do bear a striking similarity as a result o being important milestones in the careers of Tamil cinema’s two most important stars. In addition to being commercial successes, the two films are also great examples of the alternate artistic paths the two decided to tread making them a miniature representation of their intertwined legacies.

P.S: An edited version appears in today's TOI here.

Friday, April 15, 2011

TONAL TRINITY


For children of the eighties who were obsessed with film music like this writer was, there were three voices that presided over our musical dominions. They first trickled through our tympana over the crackled sounds of the Vividh Bharati transmission or that Friday oasis of film programming – Oliyum OLiyum. Theirs’ were the intonations we attempted to imitate while our parents and siblings screamed their lungs out for us to relinquish possession of the shower. They were the voices we channeled when we had the gall to subject an unsuspecting public to our singing. The vocal stylings of S.P.Balasubramaniam, K.J.Jesudas and Malaysia Vasudevan were indelibly ingrained in our musical senses very early in our childhood.


For the better part of a decade S.P.Balasubramaniam’s voice defined the timbre required of a playback singer. It infused a composer’s vision with unbridled emotion. In the popular consciousness he may be defined by the multitude of soft melodies he has sung, but exploring songs off the beaten track reveal his ability to leave his mark on a composition despite being surrounded by genius orchestration through syncopation and improvisation. Consider, for instance, the song Thamaraikkodi from the film Anandha Kummi. With Ilaiyaraja at his orchestral best – vivacious violins and guitars full of gusto – Balasubramaniam executes an off-hand sleight of voice that remains ensconced in my memory to this moment. At the end of a line that goes “velai seivathil naan kaathal mannane” he throws in a piece of faux laughter that is extremely difficult to do in a synchronized composition. And he does this with so much confidence and joy that we buy into the conceit of the lyrics. The consummate ease with which he attains the highest of notes is beguiling. Lulled into a sense of complacency some of us listeners will attempt to render the same song only to fumble those notes even in falsetto. Even if we could reproduce those notes it is a near impossibility to do so with his consistency and clarity of voice. And therein lies the magic of the man’s voice.

If the first of our mainstay voices inspired us to attempt replication the second was a constant reminder of the talent it took to sing professionally. K.J.Jesudas had a voice that made us step back, take notice and then sigh in despair even without attempting to mimic it. The Echo cassettes of the eighties could never boast the clarity of today’s digital recordings but even in those sub par aural inputs the gravitas in Jesudas’ baritone was unmistakable. It dissuaded us from attempting his near classical numbers even within reverberating confines. The prelude to Gangai Karai Mannanadi from Varusham 16 and its quivering half notes have us spellbound at his superior skill well before the song has 3begun in earnest. For the uninitiated like me, it was K.J.Jesudas’ voice that provided my first tryst with Carnatic music, its rigors and its rewards. From Vedham Nee in Kovil Pura to Kamalam Pada Kamalam in Mogha Mull, I marveled at time and again at the rich vocal tradition we had been provided and how unfounded the allegations were that classical music could not be populist. However, to reduce his oeuvre to such numbers would be doing the man and his voice a great disservice. While the most apparent example for Jesudas’ versatility would be En Iniya Pon Nilaave from Moodu Pani or Thanni Thotti from Sindhu Bhairavi the grossly under recognized Eera Vizhi Kaviyangal album is my favorite bit of virtuoso singing. His handling of the melody, especially in Kanavil Mithakkum, is simply a joy of unbounded proportions.

The first two of our triumvirate eventually went on to national careers with Ek Duje ke Liye and Chit Chor. The third stayed south of the Vindhyas – a secret treasure withheld from the rest of the country. Malaysia Vasudevan was, on occasion, the middle child: forgotten in the flood encomiums that flowed easily to the feet of his two compatriots. But this never held him back from producing quality work that always reminded us how blessed in excess we were. Aptly, many of Malaysia Vasudevan’s largest hits were in Tamil. His voice was a natural successor to that of the venerable T.M.Sounderrajan. While his first runaway hit came with the bucolic ballad from 16 Vayathiniley he was equally at home with the melodies of Dharmayudhdham. He seemed to reserve an extra bit of verve for the up tempo numbers he rendered for Rajnikanth. In Murattu Kaalai the superstar announced his arrival through the voice of Vasudevan crooning about his golden heart. To this day a bacchanal with buddies is incomplete without at least one spin of Aasai Nooru Vagai. But his true residence is in the minutiae – the oscillating notes of Vetti Veru Vaasam and that pitch shift in the pallavi of Poove Ilaya Poove.

Vasudevan’s recent demise had me contemplating the mortality of the artists who’ve affected us most personally. For those of us who grew up with these three voices, listening to them is an incredibly personal experience. They feature predominantly in our personal playlists and will continue to occupy a permanent place in our musical universe. These voice actors have left us with brief windows into their inspiration, five-minute personality vignettes in each song. Vignettes that will endure well after their, and hopefully our, passing.

P.S: This is the first of four pieces written for the 3rd anniversary of TOI in Chennai. It appears in today's Chennai Times.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Yudhdham Sei

All of us have faced a conundrum or two in our professional lives. We have at our disposal today a number of tools to dissect and diagnose these problems. The problem of course is that the tools, in and of themselves tend to be distractingly attractive. So seduced are we that some of us tend to utilise these tools to collect way more information than is actually required. And as a consequence we are so mired in data that we lose sight of the problem in all the clutter. Unwittingly we've all contributed to turning the age of information into the age of misinformation. Few directors in the Thamizh film industry have embodied this ethos as well as Mysskin has in his four film old career. His images - through attention to detail, focus on the oddities and unusual framing - leave us with a glut of information that we must expend effort processing what is presented to us. Not for this man, the overexposition of every minor detail through dialog or visuals. His filmmaking is characterized by a stubborn refusal to share information with his audience in a structured manner. This was underlined by a nice moment of irony as I watched Yudhdham Sei this past Saturday. A rather boisterous couple of girls in the adjacent seat were complaining (quite loudly I must add) that they were unable to understand the proceedings. In the scene that followed almost immediately a response appeared, on a postit on JK's wall. "F--k Off" it read. It was impossible for me not to see that note as Mysskin's derision for those who do not have enough patience to see a film through.

While the discerning viewer processes all the information that Mysskin throws at him, there is enough finesse in the scenes and the music to draw him in to proceedings as they were. Consider, for instance, how he chooses to introduce to us the dismembered parts. The first set makes its appearance during a particularly raucous celebration bringing in the new year. Mankind is often at its most selfish when it is happy. When you laugh often the world will laugh with you just to be polite - not because it shares your joy. That no one in that large crowd of revelers chooses to see how a cardboard box of severed body parts reached the roof of a car underlines how unempathetic joy makes us. If the introduction of the first set of body parts is indiction of happiness, the second indicts the viewers themselves. As the ominous background music (Some lovely work with the strings by K here) floats around the walkers and flickering tubelights of a city park we already know that the contents of another cardboard box are waiting to be found. And we are transformed immediately into those perverse voyeurs who rubberneck traffic around a particularly gruesome accident. We want to see one of the walkers discover it and be horrified. Having stolen this from us the first time around Mysskin gives it to us this time, but still holds back the theatrics as if to say "you will get what you want but on my terms".

This is the defining trait of Yudhdham Sei - that the audience must accept the film on Mysskin's terms. At its core it is a police procedural set in a rather dark reality. There are no incentives to be good in this world. In fact one is unsure about what constitutes 'good' in this world. It is a world where a perpetually drunk mortician lies nearly indistinguishable from the cadavers he examines, a borther must serve tea to find his sister and a police officer must bribe his own kind to get information that he should be privy to. To get into any of the plot dynamics would be to alter the terms on which Mysskin wants his viewers entering the cinema hall. And so I shall leave you with a small observation I made during my viewing. Two of my fellow viewers, the same ones who exhibited a disturbing lack of patience during the initial portions of the film, were cheering loudly during some portions in the psychosis fueled violence of the second half. With this portion of the film Mysskin seems to have found that frayed last nerve on which a lot of women are when it comes to the daily inequities they face. I am unsure what was more disturbing, the single minded violence or the cheer it received from some quarters of the aaudience. Are we that pissed off? And if we are what are we doing about it?

Monday, February 28, 2011

Coming home to roost

Film, Satyajit Ray once famously said, is a technological medium of expression developed by the western world. Its time boundedness makes it very difficult to imply that the characters that inhabit it are part of an unending continuum - that the film is but a vignette in the larger expanse that is its reality. Vetrimaaran's Aadukalam attempts, rather overtly, to transcend this limitation. Linguistic and spatial characteristics that are uniquely Madurai form a large part of the first half which, in hindsight, plays out as a preamble for the film Vetrimaaran wanted to make. This portion of the film lies squarely on the shoulder's of Dhanush and he displays a lightness of character that belies this onus. He flits around with great ease as a carefree youngster whose only concern is the rooster he raises and the man who taught him how.  The eco-system that Vetrimaaran constructs for his caharacters is one of rigid hierarchy where each level exercises power over the its inferiors through an exasperating mix of guilt and gratitude. Obvious similarities are drawn between rooster and  master, with both of them depicted as creatures of honed instinct - quick to anticipate and react to external threats but ill equipped to fight the internal conflicts. The film truly begins when the highest level in the hierarchy externalizes its insecurities with disastrous consequences for every level below it.

It isn't often that we see a protagonist expend energy as an unwitting pawn in the internal conflict of another character. We are often too close to what is bad for us. Karuppu is obviously not the sharpest tool in the box. He literally needs to be clubbed on the head with information before he realises who is pulling the strings. In what is the true hallmark of institutionalization Karuppu is not concerned that there are strings. As a puppet he embraces the strings that make him dance. As the second half of the film unfolded I could not resist comparing the films essence with a film that dealt with the issue far more subtly and effectively - Bharatham. The essence of both films lies in the natural resistance to evolution from within the ecosystem and the human inability to deal with it amicably. Now all Vetrimaaran has to do is find some of the subtlety that Sibi and Lohi showed.  

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Thursday, March 26, 2009

கருவண்டு

"தேன் வேட்டைக்கு படைகள் தயாரா?" ஸ்பஷ்டமாக என் காதுபடும்படியாகவே தளபதியை கேட்டாள் அரசிளங்குமாரி . கேள்வியோடு என் திசையில் ஒரு நமட்டுச் சிரிப்பு. அந்தச் சிரிப்பு என்னையே பின் தொடர்வது போல் ஒரு பிரமை . பிரமை என்று எனக்கே உறுதியோடு கூறுவது தான் எனது சமத்தை நான் காப்பாற்ற ஆட்கொண்ட யுக்தி. படைத்தலைவன் என் சலனத்தை உணர்ந்திருக்க வேண்டும். "நேரே பற, மலரைத் திற, தேனைப் பெற!" கூட்டுக் கோஷத்தை எழுப்பினான். வேட்டைப் படை உடனே பின் தொடர்ந்தது, "நேரே பற, மலரைத் திற....
'அம்சிரைத் தும்பி பேரன்' என்ற பட்டப் பெயருடன் தான் நான் கூட்டுப் பள்ளியில் நுழைந்தேன். ஒரு பெருமையின் கூறாக இருந்த சொற்கிரீடத்தில் விரைவில் இளக்காரக் கறை படியத் துவங்கியது, பள்ளியின் முதல் நாளிலே. என் பாட்டனாரிடம் சிவபெருமான் 'பெண்கள் கூந்தல் மணம்' குறித்து சந்தேகம் தீர்த்ததாக ஒரு கதை பரவலாகப் பேசப்பட்டது. பாட்டனுக்கு தெய்வக்குரல் கேட்டதோ இல்லையோ எனக்கு வயிற்றுக்கும் சிறகுக்கும் சம்பந்தமே இல்லாத ஒரு உருளைத் தலை வந்து வாய்த்திருந்தது. பள்ளியில் தயங்கித் தயங்கிச் சேர்க்கப்படும் வரையில் நான் பொத்தி தான் வளர்க்கப் பட்டேன். பொத்தி வளர்த்தது பெருமைக்காக அல்ல பாதுகாப்பிற்காக என்று உடன் படிப்பவர்கள் உணர்ந்தவுடன் புறம்பேசும் குரல்களில் பொறாமை மறைந்து ஏளனம் அதிகரித்தது. எனக்கும் அந்த ஏளனம் அடிப்படையற்றது என்று தோன்றவே இல்லை. அந்த இராட்சசத் தலை காரணமாக எனது சக வயது வண்டுகளில் சிறகுகளை சரியாக பயன்படுத்த கற்றுக் கொண்டவர்களில் கடை மாணவன் நான். கொடுக்கை சரிவர உபயோகிக்கவும் மற்றவர்களைக் காட்டிலும் வெகுவாக முயற்சிக்க வேண்டி இருந்தது. மீதமிருந்த குலப் பெருமையில் மட்டுமே என்னை தேன் வேட்டைக் குழுவில் சேர்த்திருக்க வேண்டும்.
தேர்ச்சி பெற்ற எந்த வண்டும் தேன் வேட்டைக்குச் செல்லாமல் இருப்பது கடினம். பெரும்பாலும் தேன் கிண்ணத்தையோ, சிறகையோ இழந்த வண்டுகள் மட்டுமே விதிவிலக்குகள். அதிலும் சிறகிழந்த மற்றும் அனைத்து கால்களையும் இழந்த வண்டுகள் மற்ற எந்த பணிக்கும் சேர்க்கப் பட முடியாது. மொத்த கூடும் ஒரு பாரமாகவே அவர்களைக் கருதியது. இதனாலே தேன் வேட்டைப் பயிற்சியின் முக்கிய பாகம் மனிதர்களை எவ்வாறு சமாளிப்பது என்பது தான். முதல் அறிவுரை தான் மிகவும் முக்கியம் - 'விலகியிருப்பதே வெற்றி'. இது தான் அந்த சுற்றுப்புற சூழல் அறியாத தாந்தோநிகளை கையாள கற்றுக் கொடுக்கப் படும் முக்கிய வழி. உயிர் பிரிவது சந்தேகமற்ற நிலையில் மட்டுமே கொடுக்கை பயன் படுத்த வேண்டும், ஏனென்றால் பயன் படுத்தியவுடன் உயிர் பிரிவது நிச்சயம். கடை நிலை தேன் கூட்டாளியாக தேர்ச்சி பெற நான் பட்ட பாடு எனக்கும் எனது இப்போதைய படைத் தலைவருக்கும் தான் தெரியும். "பாட்டன் பெயரை காப்பற்ற வேண்டும்" என்று மந்திரம் ஓதி மந்திரம் ஓதியே சொல்லிக் கொடுப்பார். எனக்கோ பாட்டன் மீதிருந்த வெறுப்பு படைத் தலைவர் மீதிருந்த மரியாதையை விட குறைந்தது. அந்த மரியாதையின் பொருட்டே பயிற்சி செய்தேன் - ஏதோ மாய தந்திரத்தால் அரசிளங்குமாரியின் தளபதியாரின் முன் சாகசம் செய்து தேர்ச்சியும் பெற்றேன். படைத் தலைவர் சந்தோஷப்பட்டார். தளபதியாரின் தேர்ச்சிப் பரிந்துரைக்குப் பின் அவரது சிறகு எவ்வளவு இருந்தது என்று எனக்குத் தெரியவில்லை.
முதல் தேன் வேட்டைக்குச் செல்ல மனம் இடம் கொடுக்கவே இல்லை. நீ சிபாரிசில் தேர்ச்சிப் பெற்றவன் தானே என்று சகப் படையாளிகளின் குமுறல்கள் கேட்பது போல் பிரம்மை. ஆனால் போகாமலும் இருக்க முடியாது. காரணம் தேடும் வேளையில் தான் படைத் தலைவர் தனிமையில் ஒரு கருத்து சொன்னார். "நீ முதல் முறையாக கூடு விட்டு வெளியேறுகிறாய். உன் பாட்டனார் பெருமையை விட கூட்டிற்கு தேன் சேர்ப்பதே பெருமை. உன் பெயரும் புகழும் அதனின்றே பிறக்கட்டும்" என்று வாழ்த்தினார். நேற்று இரவு மனம் அவர் சொன்னதையே அசை போட்டது. ஒரு வேளை என் பாட்டனின் குரல் கேட்கும் சொத்து எனக்கிருந்தால்? நான் தேன் சேர்த்து பெருமை பெறுவது இந்தப் பிறப்பில் நடைபெறாது. அப்பொழுதுதான் தீர்மானித்தேன், பயிற்சி அனைவற்றையும் நிராகரிக்க.
...தேனைப் பெற!" நானும் கோஷத்தை முடித்துக் கொண்டே படையுடன் கூட்டினின்று வெளியேறினேன். ஒளி, மனம் அனைத்தும் பிரவாகமாகப் பெருக , படை தோட்டம் ஒன்றை நெருங்கியது. நான் மெல்ல படை அமைப்பிநின்று என்னை அப்புறப் படுத்திக் கொண்டேன். பல நேரம் பறந்தேன், தலைகனம் தாக்கத் துவங்கியது. சோர்வடையும் நேரத்திலே தோட்டத் தின் நடுவே மரமொன்று தென்பட்டது. மரத்தடியில் இரு மனிதர்கள் - ஒரு வாலிபன், ஒரு வயோதிகன். என்னை பாதை இறுதி கண்ட பயணாளியின் புதுத் தெம்பு தாக்கியது. வயோதிகன் வாலிபனின் மடியில் தலை சாய்த்து நித்திரையில் இருந்தது போல் அசையாமல் படுத்திருக்க, வாலிபன் அமர்ந்தபடியே கண் மூடியிருந்தான். நான் அருகே சென்றேன். ஒன்றும் கேட்கவில்லை. ஒரு வேளை முகமருகே சென்றால் தான் குரல் கேட்குமோ என்று காதருகே பறந்தேன். ஒன்றும் கேட்கவில்லை. வாயருகே பறந்தேன். ஒன்றும் கேட்கவில்லை. அந்த வாலிபன் நகருவது போலவும் இல்லை. பாட்டன் தற்புகழ்ச்சிக்கு சொன்ன பொய்யை எண்ணி கோபம் வந்தது. சிவபெருமான் மனித உருவில் பேசினாராம். அவர் பதில் கூறினாராம்! பொங்கிய ஆத்திரத்தில் கொடுக்கு வெளியேறியதும் வாலிபனைக் கொத்தியதும் எனையறியாமலே நடந்தன. உயிர் மெல்ல மெல்லக் கரைந்து கொண்டிருந்தது. எங்கேயோ தூரத்து இடி முழக்கம் போல் ஒரு குரல் "இராதேயா நீ க்ஷத்ரியன் தானே?....

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

வீடு வந்தடைந்தேன்!

தனி மனிதன் வழி நடக்க
பின்னே வாகனங்களின்
சாலை மறியல் சத்தங்கள்....
நான் வீடு வந்தடைந்தேன்!

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Varanam Ayiram

So I caught the movie last night and if I were to write a serious analysis it could well turn into a tabulation of its faults. Suffice it to say, the film looked like the attempt of an untrained amateur. It is irreverent to recent history and rife with chronological inaccuracies. Gowtham seems confused initially on whose point of view we should see the story from. The narrative shift in the beginning was the first ripped seam from where the fabric of the film started ripping. And once he finally settles down on Surya Jr. as the main narrator, the voice over cuts in at the most inopportune moments taking away from the scenes. OK I'll stop. As I said it is turning into a tabulation of faults.

I've been lazy of late. Need to do a short NY recap (will possibly substitute pictures for words here) and then complete the tag I self imposed over at Zero's.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Anjali

A rainy weekend prompted a viewing of Anjali. The downpour probably reminded me of the opening sequences. The usual suspects greatly enhance the re-view quotient of the movie. Shamili still brings that ever-familiar lump to one's throat. During every introduction scene for Anjali, the back of the frame, from where she enters, is invariably over-lit. Couple that with the translucent white gown she is perennially clad in and one is forced to believe that Mani and Madhu Ambat wanted to convince the audience that we were definitely viewing a cherub descending to earth. Raaja is his usual glorious self - equal parts poignant and playful in both the soundtrack as well as the BGM. The performances, particularly Revathi, Raghuvaran and the little child who plays Anu, are all excellent. If Revathi holds fort in the latter half during her sequences with Shamili, Raghuvaran is brilliant in his silent suffering in the initial stages. There are a couple of seconds where he shares screen space with Revathi, unable to answer her (rather justifiable) question after slapping his daughter, during which his eyes are brimming, not with tears but with pain. Serves to remind you that there is skill and then there is talent.

Anjali, as with most Mani saar films, is well written and designed. There is great consistency in character description (the daughter has this little quirk - repeating kaNNellAm thaNNi after saying someone is crying - that repeats throughout the movie) and motivation. But there is one specific aspect that revealed itself to me during this viewing that actually enhanced my understanding of the charm this movie held for me as a child.

As a child, answering the telephone as quickly as possible came to be an unconditioned reflex. Even when most often the person at the other end would peremptorily request to speak to someone of more importance within the household, because I was just a kid. In the world that Mani creates in Anjali however, an Assistant Commissioner of Police doesn’t think twice before informing Arjun that his father’s life might be in danger because a ruffian baying for his blood has just been released on bail. There are no “just kids” in Anjali. They are accorded the respect of post-adolescents, if not full-fledged adults. They have their own tribe, initiation rituals and bonding patterns. The knee-jerk reaction to adversity (Arjun being confronted by an older kid when they walk in with the vegetables) is one of machismo, not the familiar run-and-hide-behind-authority or propriety. The kids take an active part in getting their pregnant mother to the hospital and are even allowed the freedom to speak out of turn and call adults out on their inadequacies. Mani’s biggest success was creating a world were children are afforded as much respect as their guardians and in doing so he was able to connect with the need of every child in the audience to be taken seriously.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Slices of Raja-8

"கடவுளை சந்தித்தேன், வரம் எதுவும் கேட்கத் தோன்றவில்லை" என்று ஒரு புது கவிதை எங்கோ படித்து ஞாபகம். நான் ராஜாவை என்றேனும் சந்தித்தால் இது தான் நிலைமை என்று நினைக்கிறேன். எனக்கும் அவருக்கும் உள்ள உறவு இசையிலும், நிசப்தத்திலும் உருவானது. வார்த்தை என்பதுக்கு அங்கு வேலைப் பளு இருக்காது. இன்றைய சிறப்புப் பாடல் கீழே:

இந்த பாட்டுக்கு எனக்கு தோன்றிய ஒரு சரணம்:
தொரட்டி வெச்சு இழுக்குறியே எம்மனச நீயும்
அத சிரிச்சுக்கிட்டே பறிகுடுத்தேன் கேனப்புள்ள நானும்
இரட்ட சடை போட்டுக்கிட்டு சுத்தினவ தானே
அத எடுத்துகிட்டு உன்னச் சுத்தி கட்டிடத்தான் போறேன்
மாமா உன் தோள் மேல
பூமால நான் போட
நேரம் தான் பார்க்காதே வீணாகும் வயசு
ஆசைய அடக்கி
ஏன் இந்த சிறுக்கி
நிக்கணும் நிக்கணும்
நீயும்தான் சொல்லணும் சொல்லணும் ...... (கருத்த மச்சான்)

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Shout Out

இசை
மழை நனைத்தும் ஈரம் இல்லை
சரீரத்தில் இசை பிணைத்தும் பாரம் இல்லை
முழுவன் மூழ்கியும் சுவாசத்தின் தேவை இல்லை
எனது அந்தம் வந்தாலும் அறிவதற்கில்லை
இசைந்தபின்னோ ?
மனதில் பாரத்திற்கு குறைவே இல்லை!

A shout out to the band called Agam that has some excellent music up on their myspace page. My first introduction was a clip of them singing "Path of Aspirations" on Ooh Lalala (courtesy youtube). It helped that song seemed to be based in (Gambheera ?) Naattai, one of my favorite ragams. The 6 songs they have up on their page are all very good efforts, my favorite being the Mystical Abheri (The ragam I hear predominantly in the song however is Reeti Gowlai).

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

ஹைக்கூ இரண்டு

சூன்யத்தில் நின்று அன்றாடம்
ஷட்ஜமம் தேடினேன்
எவரேனும் ஸ்ருதி தருவாரோ ?

These are the opening lines for a 15 page outline that permutes in my mind yet stays untouched in the recesses of my hard drive. எவரேனும் ஸ்ருதி தருவாரோ ?

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

ஹைக்கூ ஒன்று

விதிவென்ற உடை களை
அம்மணத்தில் மட்டுமே
உம்மனதை உணர்வாய்

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Slices of Raja-1

I refuse to conform. There is an unmatched quality to that voice, irrespective of what anyone says. I lay defenseless against the rendering of "Mettioli Kaattrodu" - Raaja at his bucolic best. In a song based in Jog at that. Defenseless I tell you, defenseless.

நெஞ்சமெல்லாம் நீ இசை
புகுத்தி எனை
ஆணவமற்ற நிராயுதபாணி
ஆக்கினாய்

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

The Forgotten - 1

Where I hope to chronicle small roles that loom large in my memory.

If you're a chennai denizen and worthy of being addressed as such, you've heard of and have an opinion on Mani Ratnam's films. And if you've had a friend named Chandramouli, you've never let go an opportunity to channel Karthik from that famous scene in Mouna Raagam. In spite of a borrowed premise, be it the bard's Taming of the Shrew or Mahendran's Nenjaththai Killadhey, this movie is vastly more popular than the original and features one of Tamil cinema's most celebrated cameo's. But this post is not about Manohar.

An obviously conflicted Divya sits on the roof of her house - is it still even her house any more? - as her mother tries to talk her into participating in that most well designed of awkward situations, the first of many nights to be spent with someone you barely know. The archaic ceremony that had taken place earlier in the day, something she had been emotionally blackmailed into, had done nothing to change her apprehensions. Her mother repeating banal statements, the understanding of which is predicated on unquestioningly buying into tradition, just serves to aggravate her further. It is the purpose of youth to disrespect age and the bane of the aged to forget their youth.

It is here that Rathnam's writing stood out to me, demonstrating a considerable understanding of the inner workings of a joint family. Divya's sister-in-law (brother's wife), in all probability realising that the argument would hardly solve anything, asks to speak to her privately. The next scene has Divya facing Chandrakumar in a room. Implied is the fact that the sister-in-law succesfully talked Divya down off the roof. What exactly transpired between them is of no importance, because the average Tamil cinema viewer already knew the outcome. The genius in the writing is how this foregone conclusion is engineered. And who better to do it than a character who probably faced similar apprehensions not long enough ago to have forgotten them?