Thavamai Thavamirundhu
Cheran has been advertising his movie as a novel on screen. This movie reminded me of Ray’s ‘Pather Panchali’. The subdued style, the simplicity, the exceptional camera work, the abiding images, the dialogues are all a throw-back to a different age, a different reality. I would say it is poetry on screen.
There are critics’ gimmicks, meant to hide a deep-rooted ignorance of things every critic should know, like history, Bernini, art, etc. which come in handy while writing a ‘piece’ on something like Thavamai Thavamirundhu. And I am shamelessly using it. With expectations being as they are after Autograph, Cheran must have felt just like Bernini after being asked to sculpt and give character to the Vatican. Thavamai Thavamirundhu has the same beauty, the same elegance, the same character. Comparisons are meaningless, but we mortals have devised no better tool to celebrate the likes of Thavamai Thavamirundhu. There is a certain immutable difference between Sachin Tendulkar orchestrating an attack on the Australian bowling and Rahul Dravid determinedly stonewalling. Each has its own beauty. One is inspiration. The other is a hint of inspiration with infinite determination. One has the clichéd ‘magic tough’. The other is finding stimulation from the depths of one soul. The latter is all the more beautiful because when you watch you see all the effort that has gone into an inning. Every run scored, every ball faced glows with the weight of the craft and the work which made it possible. Cheran has shown both facets of his cinema with Autograph and Thavamai Thavamirundhu. Autograph seemed purely inspired, as it tended to wander away from its axis into areas not meant to be explored and sometimes sink to irrelevant depths never meant to be reached by such a movie, resembling a typical Tendulkar inning. Thavamai Thavamirundhu is part inspiration backed by a conviction and a heart willing to go to any extent to create a masterpiece, almost Dravid-ian in quality. A good movie, I always say, is not one which does not have any faults, it is one which never wants you to find one.
The theme itself is something not explored in Tamil cinema to a great extent. We, being the sentimental kind prefer the man-woman, boy-girl, mom-son emotional dramas more as they are easily and inherently appealing requiring much less effort on the team’s part. A father-son relationship is something unique to us audience. But it would be criminal to classify this movie under that particular head. Thavamai Thavamirundhu is also a lesson on values, relationships, duties and moral fiber. The fabric which binds a family together is always threadbare, straining to break apart any moment. But someone keeps it together. And it is always the person who makes the most sacrifices, displays the maximum strength in crises and keeps going despite the deceit, malice and dishonesty of the others. Rajkiran as the father lives such a character in the movie. Saranya as the wife and mother is the pillar supporting the family. The indiscretions and insensitivity of sons Senthil and Cheran boil like lava just beneath the surface. The family is like an accident waiting to happen, to collapse. It happens when Senthil marries a disrespectful, sulky female. It continues when Cheran’s college affair with Padmapriya results in an unwanted pregnancy and subsequent elopement. The drama is in what happens to the family and how they journey together.
Thavamai Thavamirundhu is one of the most technically eccomplished movies I have ever seen, irrespective of language. It has much to appreciate, enjoy and breathe in. But the best among them is Cheran’s sublime and entirely believable characterizations. MS Prabhu’s cinematography gives the movie an artistic feel. The colours of the land, the palm trees, the ponds please. But he also manages to give the house, the armchair, the bicycle and the press a life of their own. The camera also manages to capture the squalor of the house Cheran and Padmapriya live in. Every mood, every emotion, every unspoken word is relentlessly captured with subtlety and beauty. The dynamism is pleasantly absent. The music of Sabesh and Murali is another wild card. There when needed. Absent when not. Never jarring, the score always captures the strength of the visual. The re-recording is unbelievable. The understated dialogue delivery comes out just like it should when two people are talking. And it is not artificial like the delivery in Manirathnam’s movies. Beyond all this, the performance. Rajkiran has given Muthiah a presence, a life, a character of its own. His stature, his gait, his lined and careworn face, his language, his emotions and his very life explode on screen. Saranya as the mother delights. Where have they been all along? Senthil, his wife, Padmapriya, Cheran, even the kids are entirely believable and do their roles perfectly. Every scene begins slowly, lets the audience feel the emotion of the moment, tapers to a well-structured close. Brilliantly edited, it is a lesson in movie-making.
Thavamai Thavamirundhu left me with a lot of memories. Rajkiran working at his press, stained and dirty. Rajkiran sitting defeated in his armchair squinting through his thick glasses. Rajkiran peeping at the figure of the eternally asleep Saranya surrounded by his family. Rajkiran riding his sons to school on his bicycle. Finally, Rajkiran on his deathbed asking Cheran that one beautifully framed, infinitely hurting question. If Tamil cinema were to be remembered by posterity with these abiding images, were these to become the inspiration for the directors of the future, Cheran’s poetic saga would not have been in vain.
There are critics’ gimmicks, meant to hide a deep-rooted ignorance of things every critic should know, like history, Bernini, art, etc. which come in handy while writing a ‘piece’ on something like Thavamai Thavamirundhu. And I am shamelessly using it. With expectations being as they are after Autograph, Cheran must have felt just like Bernini after being asked to sculpt and give character to the Vatican. Thavamai Thavamirundhu has the same beauty, the same elegance, the same character. Comparisons are meaningless, but we mortals have devised no better tool to celebrate the likes of Thavamai Thavamirundhu. There is a certain immutable difference between Sachin Tendulkar orchestrating an attack on the Australian bowling and Rahul Dravid determinedly stonewalling. Each has its own beauty. One is inspiration. The other is a hint of inspiration with infinite determination. One has the clichéd ‘magic tough’. The other is finding stimulation from the depths of one soul. The latter is all the more beautiful because when you watch you see all the effort that has gone into an inning. Every run scored, every ball faced glows with the weight of the craft and the work which made it possible. Cheran has shown both facets of his cinema with Autograph and Thavamai Thavamirundhu. Autograph seemed purely inspired, as it tended to wander away from its axis into areas not meant to be explored and sometimes sink to irrelevant depths never meant to be reached by such a movie, resembling a typical Tendulkar inning. Thavamai Thavamirundhu is part inspiration backed by a conviction and a heart willing to go to any extent to create a masterpiece, almost Dravid-ian in quality. A good movie, I always say, is not one which does not have any faults, it is one which never wants you to find one.
The theme itself is something not explored in Tamil cinema to a great extent. We, being the sentimental kind prefer the man-woman, boy-girl, mom-son emotional dramas more as they are easily and inherently appealing requiring much less effort on the team’s part. A father-son relationship is something unique to us audience. But it would be criminal to classify this movie under that particular head. Thavamai Thavamirundhu is also a lesson on values, relationships, duties and moral fiber. The fabric which binds a family together is always threadbare, straining to break apart any moment. But someone keeps it together. And it is always the person who makes the most sacrifices, displays the maximum strength in crises and keeps going despite the deceit, malice and dishonesty of the others. Rajkiran as the father lives such a character in the movie. Saranya as the wife and mother is the pillar supporting the family. The indiscretions and insensitivity of sons Senthil and Cheran boil like lava just beneath the surface. The family is like an accident waiting to happen, to collapse. It happens when Senthil marries a disrespectful, sulky female. It continues when Cheran’s college affair with Padmapriya results in an unwanted pregnancy and subsequent elopement. The drama is in what happens to the family and how they journey together.
Thavamai Thavamirundhu is one of the most technically eccomplished movies I have ever seen, irrespective of language. It has much to appreciate, enjoy and breathe in. But the best among them is Cheran’s sublime and entirely believable characterizations. MS Prabhu’s cinematography gives the movie an artistic feel. The colours of the land, the palm trees, the ponds please. But he also manages to give the house, the armchair, the bicycle and the press a life of their own. The camera also manages to capture the squalor of the house Cheran and Padmapriya live in. Every mood, every emotion, every unspoken word is relentlessly captured with subtlety and beauty. The dynamism is pleasantly absent. The music of Sabesh and Murali is another wild card. There when needed. Absent when not. Never jarring, the score always captures the strength of the visual. The re-recording is unbelievable. The understated dialogue delivery comes out just like it should when two people are talking. And it is not artificial like the delivery in Manirathnam’s movies. Beyond all this, the performance. Rajkiran has given Muthiah a presence, a life, a character of its own. His stature, his gait, his lined and careworn face, his language, his emotions and his very life explode on screen. Saranya as the mother delights. Where have they been all along? Senthil, his wife, Padmapriya, Cheran, even the kids are entirely believable and do their roles perfectly. Every scene begins slowly, lets the audience feel the emotion of the moment, tapers to a well-structured close. Brilliantly edited, it is a lesson in movie-making.
Thavamai Thavamirundhu left me with a lot of memories. Rajkiran working at his press, stained and dirty. Rajkiran sitting defeated in his armchair squinting through his thick glasses. Rajkiran peeping at the figure of the eternally asleep Saranya surrounded by his family. Rajkiran riding his sons to school on his bicycle. Finally, Rajkiran on his deathbed asking Cheran that one beautifully framed, infinitely hurting question. If Tamil cinema were to be remembered by posterity with these abiding images, were these to become the inspiration for the directors of the future, Cheran’s poetic saga would not have been in vain.
posted by Arun @ 11:39 PM
