[To Gokul]

In his review of The Godfather, Roger Ebert explains why we are enamored of the movie’s characters:

We tend to identify with Don Corleone’s family not because we dig gang wars, but because we have been with them from the beginning, watching them wait for battle while sitting at the kitchen table and eating chow mein out of paper cartons.

But however much we identify with the characters, we the audience are always watching them through the eyes of an outsider. And that outsider is Kay Adams, portrayed by the wonderful Diane Keaton in an understated (and sadly, underrated) performance as Michael’s girlfriend and later, his wife.

The movie can be described as a series of unfurling climaxes, each one more poignant than the previous. It reaches its crescendo at the very last shot, when after Pete Clemenza kisses Michael’s hand calling him “Don Corleone”, Al Neri walks up and shuts the door on Kay at the very moment the truth dawns on her.

To me, this image of Kay, one of helplessness and horror is priceless. It is haunting not just because I / we, as the audience, feel a sense of betrayal.

Up until the scene where Connie’s son gets baptized, the audience knows about as much as does Kay. At that point, however, we realize Michael’s ruthlessness, a fact confirmed by the following scene where he gets Carlo killed. Kay knows none of this. Indeed, she only has Michael’s word (“Is it true? Is it?”). She is our on-screen alter ego, yet she knows less about the goings-on than we do. It is at this point that our heart goes out for her. That moment when she recognizes her husband’s true character, we as the audience feel helpless, almost as if we were tasked with breaking a piece of bad news to her, and yet she could surmise that her worst fears were indeed true.

The Godfather is a cinematic masterpiece on so many levels. Indeed I feel that the Academy should have made a special exception and given the movie several Oscars for Best Picture alone; one of which is just for this shot.

 

Summary: Technically brilliant, historically inaccurate, well-packaged fantasy tale of a man on a singular mission — to kill Vasco da Gama.

What I liked

  • Packaging: Movies set against a historical backdrop can quickly turn into documentaries, and thus risk putting audiences to sleep. At times, the audience might choose to entirely shun such a movie without even making an effort to understand it; case in point: Hey Ram. I presume therefore that the prime question that would have confronted the makers of Urumi must have been around striking the balance between fact and fantasy. There is no right answer to this. They could have chosen to please the art house crowd and the dabblers in history (yours truly would like to believe that he belongs to both categories). Or they could have chosen to play entirely to the galleries (mind you, the movie was made on a big budget). Urumi’s success rests on this intricate balance, and one must commend the writers for believing in the adage “The perfect is the enemy of the good”, for I found the movie impressive on multiple levels.
  • Cinematography: Of course, it is a Santosh Sivan movie. How else could it have turned out? One could watch the movie just for the lush green scenery. (The dialogue, “Enga Simran akka nadikka kooda vendaam. Avanga poster-aye naanellaam rendara manineram paarthukitruppen!” comes to mind.)
  • Casting: Expanded below.
  • Prithviraj – Prabhudeva duo: Prithviraj excelled as Kelu Nayanar, but Prabhudeva as his friend Vavvali was, I thought, a casting coup. The reasons are obvious. Kelu has but one objective, on which he maintains a laser-sharp focus. In this sense, he is like a samurai, wherefore emotions are alien to his task, and by extension, to his nature. Vavvali, while valiant and supportive of Kelu’s mission, is essentially a lighthearted person, and displays a lot more sensitivity. The character could have easily been framed as just a sidekick, but the screenwriter must be thanked for giving it depth. The movie enhanced my respect for Prabhudeva’s acting skills.
  • Genelia: Genelia D’Souza plays Arackal Ayesha, a princess who, like Kelu, wants to avenge her father’s death, her target being da Gama’s son, Estevao. And just like Kelu, Ayesha portrays just one emotion — anger — and Genelia brings this out through her expressive eyes. While her on-screen time is considerable, her dialogues are comparatively fewer. But who cares… this is Genelia!
  • The supporting cast, notably Jagathy Sreekumar, Nithya Menon, Arya in two delightful cameos, the person playing Chirakkal Thamburan and both the da Gamas, pere and fils.
  • Songs: The good ones, at least. Though the movie has many songs, I can recall only two that were long. I was particularly impressed by the number of genres the songs touched upon. Kudos to the composer. My personal favorite is the delectable Chinni Chinni Minni Thilangunaa, sung by Manjari.
What could have been better
  • Screenplay: This should really be filed under the “What I liked” section as well. The movie can be split into three segments – the first hour which introduces the plot, the characters and their motivations. This part moves at breakneck speed and was the one I liked best. One can sense the drop in pace over the next 45 minutes to an hour, as the story meanders. At least one song (featuring Vidya Balan as an oracle) could have been omitted. The pace then picks up for the climax, but it still doesn’t equal the first hour.
  • Background score: Was good in parts, but I had the distinct feeling that Ilaiyaraja would have had a field day with this kind of movie, and would have made a number of scenes stand out even more.
  • Factual inaccuracies: I have a list that is longer than this review, but I’m not going to belabor this as I appreciate the constraints the filmmakers must have had to operate under.
I have not watched Pazhassi Raja yet, so I cannot compare it to Urumi, but I must state that the latter is one of the better movies I have watched in recent times. Even if you are like me and have only a fleeting knowledge of Malayalam, the movie is still worth a watch. Highly recommended!

 

Several years ago, Prabhudeva starred in Alaudin, yet another in a string of forgettable movies. The name of the movie is etched in my mind for a very different reason. The movie’s trailer told you, “மணிசர்மா-வின் மாயாஜால இசையில்… அலாவுதீன்”. Oh, really? The music that played in the background was so inane it made one wonder how anyone could call it “magical”. In fact it was a stretch even to call it music.

As the famous Tamil philosopher Koundamani would say:

“மூணு வீலும், ஒரு தார்பாலினும் இருந்தா நீ owner-ஆ? படுவா, அப்படினா டாட்டா பிர்லா-வையெல்லாம் என்னடா சொல்லுவீங்க?”

The stupidity of the declaration in that trailer would have been forgotten right that moment, had it not been followed by another promo… unassuming, understated and haunting.

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Like they say, “யாரு புள்ள!”

 

To the point: a riveting movie whose screenplay, casting and acting will keep you at the edge of your seat at all times.

The success of Vetrimaaran’s previous movie Pollaadhavan rested on three elements — an excellent screenplay, a great cast and Dhanush. It seems like three years down the line, Vetrimaaran and Dhanush have decided to raise the bar but with the same ingredients only better, and the result is Aadukalam — a movie that is not just technically superior, but is so convincing that you feel at times that you are in the midst of the action.

The director deserves the lion’s share of the plaudits; one can just wonder at how much homework must have gone into the movie so it evokes such a reaction in the audience. The movie’s screenplay is so taut that even at 160+ minutes, one can hardly point out a scene or a song that could have been edited out. (By the way, the songs are amazing. “Otha sollaala” is my new favorite.)

The production team has pulled off a casting coup. There are so many new faces that seem cut out for their roles that one wonders how the production team assembled them together. Every one of the characters seems to be from real life – Pettaikaarar (Jayabalan delivers a standout performance), Durai (Kishore), Rathinasamy, Pettaikaarar’s wife, even the guy who plays Dhanush’s friend. Taapsee, who plays Irene, reminds me of Kushboo; indeed her role in the movie is such that her dubbing artiste would just have to listen to Kushboo speaking Tamil as preparation for her task.

Finally, Dhanush; he has poured his heart into the role of Karuppu. He carries the movie through and through. It is impossible for me to visualize another actor who would fit the role.

Bottomline: Dhanush tells his rooster in the middle of a pivotal fight: “டேய் தம்பி… நான் போயிருவேன்; நீயும் போயிருவ; ஆனா அடுத்து வரப்போற பதினஞ்சு நிமிஷம் இன்னும் அம்பது வருஷத்துக்கு அப்புடியே இருக்கும்டா!” That captures my reaction to this truly well-made movie, one that will leave its mark on Tamil cinema. Worth watching many times over.

 

Despite numerous recommendations, I have not watched Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa. For one simple reason — Aaromale. The song is so perfect that I cannot imagine how the movie would do justice to it, let alone improve on it. I first listened to this song about ten months ago while driving through the mountains of western Pennsylvania on a misty morning, and have been hooked on it ever since. (I think Governor Rendell should make it the state anthem.) The song has beaten every record even for a notoriously one-song-playlist guy like me. Needless to say it is one of Rahman’s best compositions ever.

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(Much ado about something trivial. The section titles are inspired from The Day of the Jackal.)

Anatomy of a plot

I was going over Google Analytics after a long time this weekend, and I found that I was getting a few hits from Bing for the search term “Koundamani”. A closer look revealed that VKpedia was the fourth search result on Bing for Koundamani. A friend in India told me that he found that my blog was placed first for the same search term on Bing for Sweden. (Wow!)

While I was still celebrating this high note, my friend Shankar posed me a trivia question. Anyone who has listened to FM radio in Chennai would know that some RJs (especially Blade Shankar and Speed Dheena) play a clip from Koundamani when the caller is a woman — “Ai.. ladies!” The poser was “Which movie is this dialogue from?” To someone like me who considers Koundamani the equal of Kamal Hassan and Tom Hanks, the lack of a ready answer was an affront.

Anatomy of a manhunt

Anyone who has cheated by using Google to find an answer, and then promoted the answer as if it was the result of one’s own mental faculties, would know that this is not one of those problems. Because the search terms are generic, but the intended result is super-specific, Google is not an ideal tool for such a search operation.

Twitter is indeed the right tool, for one can tap into the collective intelligence of the masses. This route was pursued, but to little avail, so I was forced to resort my own mental faculties.

The immediate tool of choice was the process of elimination. This is ideal because when someone tries to whittle down to a few options from a filmography as daunting as Kounder’s, selection does not work well. One could eliminate movies from the 80s and from 2000 onwards with confidence. So the movie must be from the 90s. Obviously, the movie must be reasonably popular, and therefore it could not have starred an also-ran actor as the leading man. And obviously, the leading man could not have been Rajnikanth or Kamal Hassan, for I know the combinations well.

Also, the movie is probably not a rural movie. Of course, the term “ladies” is not restricted to the vocabulary of just those who graduated from Ivy League schools, but still I went ahead with this assumption. (Case in point: Gounder tells Sarath Kumar in Suriyan, “Side-la yeng [sic] ladies ellaam varraanga…”) This rules out actors like Vijayakanth, Sathyaraj and Ramarajan, in whose movies, our man plays meaty roles.

So that leaves us with the few actors who play predominantly urban roles, and who generally allow Goundamani a free ride in their movies. In short, Karthik and Arjun.

Anatomy of a kill

We know Karthik-Kounder combos like the back of our hand. So, it is probably an Arjun movie.

Not Gentleman, because we know every single scene from the comedy track. So, it must be Jai Hind or Karna. I could have sworn that the movie was Karna; but then, I started watching scenes from Jai Hind in fast-forward mode. And then, I heard it – boom! Koundamani tells Ranjitha, “Oh, ladies… sorry!” when they are traveling by boat to a terrorist hideout. The previous sentence turned out to be a false alarm. The dialogue in question appears a while later. Arjun and his team reach the terrorist’s basecamp. They are looking out for an ideal moment to strike, when a group of women with guns walk past a guard. And this is the precise moment when the magic happens!

So there you go, Shankar, you might have put my PhD in all-things-Koundamani in jeopardy, but the answer you are looking for is Jai Hind!

 

Went to The Hindu’s Friday Review page to check if they had a review of Kandasamy, which almost all my friends have declared a must-avoid. Serendipitously however, I ended up reading a review of Teree Sang, a movie about kids falling in love and going to second base and beyond. This line from the review stunned me with its simplicity, succinctness, and more importantly, adherence to newspaper ethics.

Rich brat 15-year-old Mahi makes friends with 17-year-old Kuku and his band of boys. Soon, they are sharing beer, bike rides and go camping, and before you can say ‘What the…’ they finish the expression.

By the way, The Hindu has called Cheran’s Pokkisham authentic and impressive. Way to go, Sir!

 

Ilaiyaraja deserves an “Ilaiyaraja Award for Excellence in Background Score” for his work in Naan Kadavul.

 

Parthiban Kanavu is one of my favorite movies, and as a consequence (or probably, because) it is one of the most quotable movies. The absolute best is a line from “Nagesh” Krishnamurthy, where he tries to pacify his grandson, Srikanth, who is ranting at his wife singing a Carnatic kriti: “ஏன்டா, உனக்கு கோபம் சங்கீதத்து மேலயா? இல்லை, சம்சாரத்து மேலயா?”

On an unrelated note, I chanced upon this video. J.P. Chandrababu, in the guise of a woman, sings Sudhdhananda Bharati’s “Eppadi Paadinaro” in Western style. A riot!

 

Have you watched Pasanga? You really must… even if you have watched it already!

Kamal Hassan, speaking at the audio launch of the movie, pointed out that whenever Tamil cinegoers are on the brink of declaring that Tamil movies have isolated themselves from realism, there comes a movie that dispels such doubts. Pasanga is truly one such movie. The movie depicts on screen the Tamil Nadu that we truly love – an ideal, timeless land that teems with life, and the warmth of its characters.

As a friend recently wrote to me:

The movie is very good, of course, with some inescapable cinematic elements thrown in.

I always find a middle India, small town India where there may be a lack of physical infrastructure, but no digital or information divide, thanks to the deep penetration of Sun TVs, Airtels, Hamam soaps, Lion Dates, Gold Winners, Ananda Vikatans, Hero Honda Splendors, Engg Degree Aspirations, availability of private English schools etc.

Tamil cinema has failed to depict this for so long. This director has attempted and succeeded.

For bringing to us an excellent movie filled with beautiful characters, not stylish ones who do supposedly cool things and end up making you look foolish and inadequate, director Pandiraj wins kudos!

My favorite character from the movie is Vaathiyaar Chokkan, the school teacher. Apart from the kids, who are the real heroes, he is the one person whose character has been given a near-complete treatment. He is warm, and possibly as a result of being the most educated person among the lot, intelligent, level-headed and sage. Sample a scene where he makes a mark.

 

1 fabulous movie!

 

I haven’t watched Slumdog Millionaire yet; I doubt if I will. Because some friends whose tastes and preferences as regards movies are close to mine are of the opinion that the movie is just another masala flick*, whose “realistic” depiction of the slums, squalor, hope and triumph falls way short of what some Hindi and Tamil movies have done in the past. (And they said so before Slumdog started its golden run, so it cannot be out of envy.)

The media has been awash with Slumdog mania. The British media claims it is a British movie, the Indian press points to the movie’s roots. But yes, DNA tests are what the media is good at. And they always uncover many fathers.

Like Albert Einstein once said: “If my theory of relativity is proven successful, Germany will claim me as a German and France will declare that I am a citizen of the world. Should my theory prove untrue, France will say that I am a German and Germany will declare that I am a Jew.”

* But yes, even Titanic was a masala flick, and it won Best Picture.

 

To borrow a phrase from Hillary Clinton, “… and with your support, it’s now full speed onto the Oscars!”

 

With the exception of Kanjeevaram, I think I must have watched all the must-not-be-missed Tamil movies of 2008. Without a doubt, Anjaathey is the best Tamil movie of the year. A handful of movies view for the second spot. And Poo is one of those worthy movies that I would add to that list.

I’m not sure if many people would even have noticed this movie. People do not take Srikanth seriously, which might explain this in part.

Poo, directed by Sasi (Sollaamale, Roja Koottam, Dishyum) is an excellent tale of a girl’s love for her cousin told with a rustic charm that takes us back to Bharathiraja’s golden age. But what can be new in a village love story, you ask? Simple. Poo is narrated with the girl as the central character. It is a radical departure from the hero-centric narration that Tamil cinema is afflicted with. So much so that Srikanth, the hero, seems only a fleeting presence. In contrast, Parvathi Menon, who plays Mari, is present in almost every frame, and boy, does she carry it well! Interestingly, the film’s other central character is also not a man, but Mari’s friend, Cheenimma (played by Inbanila). Think of it as an Autograph kind of movie, but from the girl’s viewpoint.

Poo is one of the few movies this year which made me look at my watch from time to time and think, “Oh, it is 2 hours and x minutes already. I don’t want this movie to end.” A fabulous movie. You would want to watch it one more time. And also write in Parvathi Menon for a state national award this year.

 

First a video clip from Times Now.

You know what irks me? It is not that she (whose only real calling card is that she is somewhat remotely related to Aishwarya Rai) is dating him or anything. But that this report calls her a “popular South Indian actress“.

Reminds me of Koundamani yet again: “மூணு வீலும் ஒரு தார்பாலினும் இருந்தா நீ ஓனரா? படுவா, அப்போ டாட்டா பிர்லா-வல்லாம் என்னடா சொல்லுவீங்க?”

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