Mani Ratnam and the art of allowing the magic to happen
There is comfort in the known. Like the grandmother’s tale she might repeat any number of times to a child. The same twists, the same turns and the same revelations … they simply play out beautifully every time. Because the child has taken a comfort to the story.
It is this comforting tale that Mani Ratnam brings to the big screen in Ponniyin Selvan.
For a minute, forget everything else if you can — the crew, the cast and their brilliance.
Like the famous phrase “It’s the economy, stupid” that people use to summarise political changes, the winning formula of any movie can easily be broken down to this bare minimum — “it’s the story.”
A delightful subtraction
Condensing a five-volume blockbuster novel into a two-part cinematic event, too many reviewers and commentators comment, must have been a very difficult task for its makers. I suspect the opposite for the writing team here — Mani Ratnam, Elango Kumaravel and Jeyamohan must have debated for sure what to retain and what to leave out. But I think it would have been an utterly joyful discussion between fans of the original, and in discovering maybe a few wonderful narratives within the book.
The subtraction to Ponniyin Selvan novel here is not in cutting out the flab, but in going with what makes most sense for the visual medium. The richness in it is such that you can find several ways to narrate this — mind you Ponniyin Selvan had a very strong “author’s voice” guiding the readers through.
What they left out, for example, in itself only creates a further aching.
For example, I kept thinking — oh man, if only they had added the two other instances of Kundavai’s interactions with Vanthiyadevan, just how remarkable would that have been. That thought is Ponniyin Selvan — 1’s success not failure.
What you witness even in the 2.45+ hours spectacle leaves you wanting for more, simply because what’s there is brilliant. If there is a sure sign that the project has worked, it is with audiences like me who wished actually that it had run another 20 minutes, so what if the pundits feel anything over 3 hours is too much.
Not a Kurosawa nor a Spielberg nor a Rajamouli film, it’s a Mani Ratnam special and that’s ok
Over the years, Mani Ratnam’s films have always been excessively hyped and talked about a bit much in the media. For good or bad, there have been comparisons with masters. Names have been dropped, at times liberally. I remember in the late 1990s, the India Today magazine carried a cover story about him naming him “India’s answer to Steven Spielberg”.
That actually irked me because I was a Steven Speilberg fan first before I became a Mani Ratnam fan. I discovered the world of Akira Kurosawa a little later, but that too was because how Spielberg and George Lucas raved about him. Remember, they handed the master his honorary Oscar.
I later found that many film makers, including Mani Ratnam, were big Kurosawa fans and the Japanese film maker’s influences was there in many, many film makers’ works.
The comparison of Mani Ratnam to Kurosawa or Spielberg is plain unfair. It is probably borne out of laziness of writers to dwell even a little into his movies. The comparisons are there simply to serve as ‘ready reckoners’.
Steven Spielberg, for example, was the quintessential blockbuster maker — who came out of big film studio setup — and was essentially a film maker since he was a teen. Not only was he making short films as a kid (the subject of the upcoming The Fabelmans), he directed established actors when he was just a teenager. A case in point is the detective series Columbo. Universal studios then allowed the young, maverick film maker to hone his craft and handled seasoned actors.
The comparison with Kurosawa is not fair again on either of them. Let us be honest. Kurosawa was cut from a different cloth. It would be best to simply let the master sleep well. Earlier era of film critics were essentially snobs who had access and time to visit film festival circuits. Today, everyone has internet.
The point is Mani Ratnam — whatever be his inspiration or influences — has done enough at this point to avoid these comparisons. He can be judged by the merit of his past, and in taking into account his successes and also his failures.
His core strength is the way he seems to handle human drama — especially inter-personal play between characters. Of course, there are the elaborate songs and dance sequences that have an unique grammar of their own. Where Mani Ratnam shines through are when he pits/stages two characters in conflict — could be moral conflict like in Nayagan or Dalapathi — or plain inter-personal ego — like in Agni Nakshatram or Chekka Chivantha Vanam.
He also has some weaknesses and is not invincible. I would say Kaatru Veliyidai failed primarily because of its weak writing. Iruvar, which undeniably was one of his best films, still had some flaws in its writing.
Ponniyin Selvan, a gift that keeps giving
In Ponniyin Selvan, Mani Ratnam and his writing collaborators have the opportunity to hit the bull’s eye easily because Kalki has left the team oodles of good material to start from. The drama — the inter personal human interactions — are so intense and beautifully staged already in the novels . All Mani Ratnam had to do here was identify the right sequences and use his directorial prowess to push a stellar cast to bring alive the drama.
The writing here is not a treasure hunt but a case of picking precious stones for casting your crown. You pick one big diamond, a few accompanying stones and cast it in a malleable metal in an intricate design.
One of the key differentiators that Ponniyin Selvan has a richly layered story with several characters whose motivations are clearly defined. Every character has a story arc, in which their motivations are clearly defined and they also get to redeem themselves from trappings.
This is rare in cinematic experience — where at the most one or two characters get to journey the entire arc and fulfill their calling.
Take the characters, their story arc and their motivations from Ponniyin Selvan.
- Vallavarayan Vandhiyadevan is a warrior who goes on a journey — first to Thanjavur, and then to Eelam (Sri Lanka) to fulfill the orders of the Prince he admires and the Princess he loves. He fulfills his mission but is witness to the highs and the lows of the story.
- Aditha Karikalan bears the scars of the battles he wages and along with it the unrealized love for Nandhini. This is beautifully brought out in the lyrics of the “Chozha, Chozha” song by Ilango Krishnan. His journey through the books leave him with the quandary — how does he redeem himself as he balances his own guilt and unrequited love.
உடல் உடல் உடல் முழுக்க
செருகளத்து வடு வடு வடுவிருக்க
ஒருத்தி தந்த வடு மட்டும்
உயிர் துடிக்க வருத்தமென்ன
(Rough translation — My body has scars from all the battles I waged, yet the one scar that is alive is the one left by her)
- The character of Kundavai who is motivated by the ambition of continuity of the Chozha empire and ensuring that her younger brother — who she raised like a mother to become the potential king
- The titular Ponniyin Selvan who must balance his views all through the betrayals and calamities and yet come across as the holder of dharmic principles
- The Pandya conspirators — brothers — who are there to avenge the killing of their beloved king. Let’s not forget — Adhitya Karikalan killed an unarmed king who was undergoing care. He erred in the way the punishment was handed out. So their motivations are also justified.
- The journey of Azhwarkadiyan which in itself is as spectacular a tale as Vandhiyadevan
- Madhurandagan’s journey from being a pious Siva devotee to rightfully claiming his throne even against the wishes of his mother Sembian Mahadevi — which will be revealed in the second part.
With such well rounded characters, it is simply a case of Mani Ratnam bringing in the best technicians and actors, and allowing the magic to happen.
Allowing the magic to happen
Any Mani Ratnam project seems to attract the best of technicians and talents. If rumours are worth believing in this internet era, the actors are willing to work at discounted salaries. Technicians are ready to push themselves to great lengths.
There is A.R.Rahman in general and then there is A.R.Rahman in a Mani Ratnam film. If that contrast is difficult for you to imagine, then simply imagine Aishwarya Rai as an actor in all her other work, and then isolate her work in Mani Ratnam films. She does infinitely better work. This seems to apply for everyone.
As Mani Ratnam himself revealed in a recent interview to Baradwaj Rangan, he picks the best technicians — who are good at their jobs better than he is at their job — and simply allows them to work.
In Ponniyin Selvan, this holds good for every technician but for the sake of easy understanding, let us simply look at A.R.Rahman’s music. He has drawn inspiration from varied sources, including the Balinese Monkey Chants and Natarajar Stotram.
In Raakshasa Maamaney song — in which the warrior Vandhiyadevan disguises himself as the demon Kamsa in a play on Krishna Jayanti day — A.R.Rahman creates such a magic that in turn has pushed dance choreographer Brinda to stage it with children and classical dancers. All of this doesn’t even play out fully in the movie.
There is another spectacular sequence where Nandhini is requested to wait outside a meeting hall of local cheftains, and is seen longingly looking at the grand Chozha throne. Every technician here — from the director to the art director to the cinematographer to the music director to the costume designer to the make-up artist — everyone has made this two-three minute sequence a spectacle. You can simply watch the sequence of Nandhini looking at the throne for 30 seconds to get a gist of what Ponniyin Selvan is all about.
Ponniyin Selvan 1 is loaded with many, many such sequences.
- The first exchange between Kundavai and Vandhiyadevan — here Jeyamohan’s delightful dialogues are on point. This is a playful flirtation sequence featuring a princess and a warrior from 10th century. In isolation, this scene can right away fit into a modern day rom-com.
- Adhitya Karikalan’s trippy recall of his doomed love affair with Nandhini. This sequence — a five-minute block — is perhaps Mani Ratnam’s tribute to master Akira Kurosawa. The trippiness in his scene, especially the smoke and sense of madness, is reminiscent of Kurosawa’s Ran.
- Jayaram’s Azhwarkadiyan Nambi’s trouble-making as the “troll” of his day, pulling the legs of believers of a different faith. It takes a genius of an actor like him to make this character likeable. There is also a hilarious punch line in the second half to Vandhiyadevan that goes on the line of “mind it!”.
- The brilliantly staged flashback sequence of Adhitya Karikalan’s rage — the setting of an isolated hut and the operatic music that accompanies it — dropping hints to the audience on the core plot of Ponniyin Selvan. This sequence I am sure will play out in its entirety in the PS2. Not revealing more here, but do watch out for it. But everything in this sequence — from the acting (Aishwarya Rai Bachchan is spectacular and so is Vikram) to the art direction to the music.
- Jayam Ravi’s portrayal as Arun Mozhi Varman. As an acting challenge, nothing can be more difficult today than to play a character that is literally flawless. We are cynical and critical today as an audience. What would it take to impress us in a role of unbelievable purity, chivalry and ultimately sacrifice — this is Jayam Ravi’s best performance to date.
- Aishwerya Lekshmi is brilliant as Poonguzhali — a brave fisherwoman who draws her knife to a flirtatious Vandhiyadevan but is all coy and shivering in front of Ponniyin Selvan when he calls her “Samudhra Kumari”.
- How Sarath Kumar moves from being the angry Periya Pazhuvetarayar at one moment showing his anger in front of the royal help to going silent and enchanted in front of the femme fatale Nandhini
In PS-1, I was able to suspend my disbelief, and join Adhitya Karikalan’s call for adventure. Within minutes, with the “Ponni Nadhi paakanumey,” I was transported to a believable Thanjavur of the 10th century.
You really can’t ask for too much more. There were a few things I wish were slightly different — I especially wished the ‘Raakshasa Maamaney’ song had played out in its entirety because I was not able to get enough of all the gorgeous choreography and the children singing and dancing along with Karthi and Sobhita.
The overwhelming thought after I left the screening was — “I wish it had been slightly longer. I wish the songs had played out more. I wish there were more sequences between Kundavai and Vandhiyadevan. I wish the dialogue between Periya Pazhuvetirayar and Vandhiyadevan was not obscured by the ongoing song — and maybe the song could have played out after that scene.”
When was the last time you walked out of a movie and wished that it had done a little more — played out slightly longer?
That is why I think PS1 is a big win.
