"Half Ticket" - my article on some children's films in India

I have always felt that making films, writing stories, or composing songs for children is harder than many other creative endeavours. Think children's films and the Disney boilerplate animations is what comes to most people's mind, until Pixar tore that notion apart. Unfortunately, the genre of children's films in India has been criminally under-served so far. But a few have stood out.

I wrote an article two years ago on Children's Films in India, and thoroughly enjoyed revisiting some of these films. Today's a good day to point you to that:

1. Previous blog post with a scanned copy of the article (has images): at this link.

2. Plain text version:

"Half-Ticket" - Children's Films in India - Flylite magazine

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The Tamil Diwali - a SiNi-matic experience

Many people ask me why is it that the Tamil Diwali (or Deepavali as it's more likely to be called in the land) starts at 4 am with an oil bath and ends at 6 am after some crackers. This is not the case and I will attempt to undefame this (possibly North Indian) defamy.

(image: Geetham.net)

The simple and practical purpose behind getting your Diwali chores out of the way is so that we can indulge in the Sun TV Deepavali 'sirappu nigazhchigal' (i.e. 'special programmes', as you unentangle your Northie tongue after an ill-advised attempt to pronounzh that). In fact, some dispassionate but misguided anthropologists have even been led to believe that this communal partaking of the dawn-to-dusk Sun TV feast is the true essence of the Tamil Diwali. (Some rascally fellow has also submitted a thesis saying Naragasuraa, was misheard on his deathbed: he wanted us to do 'videos', not 'vedis'. This is just more defamy.)

In reality, this is how things unfold. A week before Diwali, Sun TV will begin announcing its line-up of this year's SiNis (Ed.: carpal-friendly abbr.; its similarity to "Cine" is purely coincidental).To make sure each and every viewer of Sun TV is able to by-heart the schedule, the kind souls in charge of programming will show this lineup every 15 minutes. This often means that the 9 pm nightly soap will start the next day at 6 am, instead of 10 pm the same day.

One of Sun TV's core beliefs is eternal consistency ( which is why they only recently began accepting the helio-centric theory of the solar system), so each year, the SiNi line-up is the same:

1. Nadaswaram (a.k.a. Nagaswaram) performance
2. Devotional Carnatic song (preferably by siblings)
3. Spiritual guidance (depending on judicial status of seer's police cases)

At this point, Sun TV will lean heavily on our rich (5000+n)¹ year-old cultural heritage i.e. 21st century Kollywood. The schedule becomes:

1. Interview with Tamil Music Director
2. Interview with reigning Tamil comedy superstar (i.e. Vadivelu)
3. Interview with the super-talented cast of a about-to-be-super-hit Tamil film releasing today

At this point, we will have one hour of the 'paTTi manDram'.

The 'paTTi maNDram' is literally 'the debate forum' in which several Tamil professors will humourously discuss serious topics such as:

• Who watches more 9 pm nightly soaps: daughter-in-laws or mother-in-laws?
• Is the use of soap by daughter-in-laws antithetical to our (5000+n) year-old heritage?
• Mother-in-laws are more likely to break-up the home after watching the 9 pm soap: True or False? Comment with references to 9 pm soaps (one 8 pm soap rebuttal allowed)
• What is the correct spelling: mother-in-laws or mothers-in-law?

One hour of lively debate by the professors with humorous interruptions by the Chair (a gentleman called Solomon Pappaiah) ends with victory for the mother-in-law or the daughter-in-law (ever since records were kept, the scoreline has been 37-32 in favour of the m-i-ls). Just how wildly popular these debates are can be judged by shots of wild laughter from the audience in the debate hall (even after an ad break) and that the speakers and the Chair often get to have wild cameos in Rajnikanth films. (See example paTTi maNDram video

After such cerebral sparring, the rest of SiNis are:

Afternoon Film (from two years ago, which was aired last year)

Interview with star (not superstar, mind you)

Recitation by superstar poet (i.e. Vairamuthu)

Interview with reigning heroine (who speaks one of Punjabi, Tulu, Gujarati, Marwadi, Czech, or Dogri)

Evening Superhit Film (that flopped last year)

Interview with editor/sound recordist/art director (the South takes its technicians very seriously)

An important note about the film is that it is never just a film, but a <dramatic>"Film that is being telecast on TV for the first time in this universe or any of its parallel universes"</dramatic>

And there are two in a day. It really must be Diwali.

The great thing about Sun TV is, as we have already remarked, its remarkable and secular consistency. To ensure people aren't put off balance, it follows this same template for Pongal, for Vinayagar Chathurthi, for Christmas, and other festive days. For Tamil New Year day, it gets even special: by interviewing A.R.Rahman, Vijay, or Dhanush. Or if we are very, very lucky, Vadivelu twice.

And people say the Tamil Diwali ends at 6 am.

---

1. (the linguistic constant 'n' is introduced to ensure that Tamil remains older than Sanskrit or Proto-Aryan or Trans-Elvish).

Show and Tell: notes from a seminar on "Cinema and Literature"

Last week, I (along with a couple of fellow itinerants) attended a seminar on Cinema and Literature jointly organised by the Film & Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune and the Film Writers Association (a trade union mainly of Bollywood writers). The idea was interesting: to explore the relationships between cinema and literature (sometimes symbiotic, sometimes parasitic). There was also the appealing prospect of watching (gawking?) and listening to people this blogger is quite a fan of.

The opening ceremony saw bodies spilling out of the little FTII auditorium (we had to uncomfortably stand/squat/sit for about 4 hours that day). The principal reason for the interest was perhaps the presence of both Gulzar and Javed Akhtar. True to perception, the former's speech contained the romance of wordplay as well as some pithy observations from film & lit history, while the latter made some strident points without mincing words. Akhtar spoke of the cinema-lit connection involving a love triangle: that of the audience, which affected what was adapted and how it was received. Refering to the ghastly 80s when mainstream Hindi films hit their nadir, he drew a connection between "sarkailo khaTiyaa" and "sarkailo masjid". Gulzar, on the other hand, asked whether it was necessary to be so aware of the audience all the time, and preferred films & literature to dance their duet. He asked an interesting question: how would cinema be if sound hadn't crept in? Would people still come looking to literature, now that words were not needed?

A common reference point throughout the two days was Saratchandra's Devdas, both in terms of number of adaptations, as well as its recency. Gulzar (or was it JA?) refered to it by pointing out that once upon a time Devdas would have been the lowest common denominator of its times! In the session on novel adaptations, Anurag Kashyap didn't bother trying to justify his choices too much - he described how he went about it. In general, there were two kinds of speakers: 'theorists' (usually writers, who spent a lot of time bemoaning adaptations and musing on its fickle nature) and 'practitioners' who seemed to be 'doing' things, trying them out, failing, learning, and moving on. It was the second category that produced the most engaging talks, and Kashyap was one of them.

A writer who spoke wonderfully, and had contrarian views to Kashyap, was Mamta Kalia. But in all, the sessions on novels, short stories and folklore were disappointing. A majority of panelists kept regressing to existential arguments (such as splitting hairs on words like 'inspiration' and 'adaptation', and didn't spend much time in discussing the nuts-and-bolts or challenges of these respective forms). Shama Zaidi tried to show some examples of how changes were made for Shatranj Ke Khiladi, but spoiled things by being too petulant and dismissive. Even the second day's session on mythology kept tracing issues of history and philosophy, but unlike the earlier sessions, it was considerably livened by a set of excellent speakers.

It helped that Kamalahassan was chairing the session. He didn't make a speech of his, but kept insisting the atheist in him was spoiling for a fight on the topic. Gollapudi Maruthi Rao, noted Telugu actor, spoke eloquently on the history of mythology in films (appropriately so; I think the Telugu film industry has made the best use of that material). Kamalahassan then made one his many clever sound-bite interjections: "According to me, mythology is spiritual cosmetic surgery for history; makes the truth more palatable". The man knows how to press all the right buttons on an audience!

Dr. Devdutt Patnaik was the next speaker, and he delivered a very interesting talk. Once a man of medicine, he's now a 'mythologist' and carries the rather exotic title of "Chief Belief Officer" at the Future Group. He spoke of mythology as the 'truth' of a culture, compared Western films about religion with Indian ones, and then plunged into an analysis of 'sanatan' vs social truths (which I found a little slippery to grapple with). At some points, it seemed he was about to invoke Hindu-glory-of-the-past (Kamal later quipped that he thought Patnaik was going to start distributing prasad on stage), but to his credit, he stayed on the side of sobreity throughout. I recommend a look at his presentation, which is available on his website here.

In response, Kamalahassan mentioned how he liked films that tried to be subversive about accepted wisdom, particularly mythology, and cited the example of (one of my favourite movies) The Life of Brian by Monty Python. He spoke of films like Hey! Ram into which elements of the Ramayana are interwoven. And did he blush ever so slightly when someone praised Dashavataram? The man is worth paying to go and listen to, I think.

The last session, the one on drama & plays, was the most well-rounded one: the speakers spoke both of theory and craft. Playwright Mahesh Elkunchwar spoke lucidly about his two experiences of writing his plays for film, as well as dealing with different constraints in the two media. Asghar Wajahat did the same later. Govind Nihalani, who directed Party from an Elkunchwar script, gave the view from the other side. Dr. Jabbar Patel spoke extensively of his collaborations with Vijay Tendulkar and Gulzar, and mentioned that in plays, it was the writer who ruled, while film was the director's medium.

Vishal Bhardwaj also spoke, but this is already such a long post that I've forked that encounter off into a separate post here.

In summary, it was a mixed set of talks. I liked something that Prof.U.R.Ananthamurthy said in his talk: that finally, all that really matters is how engaging the film (and I generalise it to all art) is for the individual viewer - whether you understand the content or crib about the fidelity of the film to the book is not all that important.

Times of India reports: Day 1, Day 2

Sundaram has served his last great meal

The actor Nagesh, one of the greatest I've seen, passed away earlier today. He remained active, especially in Kamalahassan movies, almost till the end (according to Wikipedia, his last release was Dasavatharam).

Nagesh's genius for comedy and pathos, drama and character, put him, IMHO, in the Chaplin league. Hindi film watchers may have seen Mehmood portray several Nagesh roles in Hindi remakes, including the role of the waiter in Main Sundar Hoon (Server Sundaram) and the madcap wannabe director (complete with horror narrator) in Pyar Kiye Jaa (Kadalikka Neramillai).

A detailed tribute at PFC provides a glimpse of how wonderful the actor was. A theatre in the T.Nagar area of Madras, named after and owned by the actor, was the closest to home when I lived there, and where I saw a few films, including Devar Magan. That theatre was a minor geographical entity, but the man was a pint-sized movie landmark.

Kamalhassan's Dasavatharam - Aviyal Fiction

Before I went to watch "Dasavatharam", I had the good sense to watch one of Kamalhassan's interviews. "It's out and out entertainment for the audience", he said. Since I trust the guy, I repeated it to myself each time the word 'T-A-C-K-Y' spelt itself out in front of my eyes, especially between minutes 20 and 40 of the movie.

"Dasavatharam" is undeniably tacky, but it's oddly entertaining too. There's hardly a slack moment. This is a disaster movie that could so easily have ended in one, but as it lurches from action sequence to comic interlude to philosophical filibustering, it never completely comes off the rails. I certainly didn't mind losing three hours of my life to that film (ok, except for that one minute when Mallika Sherawat (or her voice-over) avers that, of course she can speak Tamil - and does so in a badly dubbed voice ).

That Kamal Hassan is over-indulgent is a common accusation thrown at his face ('mask' may be more appropriate), but he is undeniably gutsy. Not because he spends more money on bad makeup than Shahnaz Hussain, but because who else in India would be crazy enough to cook up a hodge-podge involving an ancient Iyer-Iyengar conflict (we come off looking badly, btw), inconvenient truths about the environment, bio-war-sci-fi, atheism, the great Tsunami of 2004, chaos theory (casting credit: stereotypical digitally mixed-in butterfly), mixed with some political body-doubles that wouldn't make the cut at a school fancy dress competition. Heady stuff to unleash on the populace, which had earlier rejected some of the other cocktails (the need to have an opinion on M.K.Gandhi, matricide, communism+atheism, to name a few) that Kamal Hassan has written. Perhaps the lesson he's learnt is: be not so subtle that no one realises you're being something.

Some critical reactions that bemoaned the tackiness (that word again) of the film almost always made comparisons with the likes of Anbe Sivam and Hey Ram. But it's not as if Kamal didn't make bad movies before. From what we know of him, he's usually taken an active interest in the plotlines (even without official credit), so you'd be insulting his intelligence if you thought he didn't know what he was getting into. He's taken an almost gleeful plunge into lots of rubbish - one senses a need to get the silliness off his chest from time to time, in addition to the money needed to make the other stuff that he wants to.

Anyway, back to the movie. The film is almost hopeless in its rendition of events set amongst a laughably stereotypical American setting, but there is an instant quality upgrade when proceedings move to India. Kamal shows an instinctive feeling for dialogue, accent, placement, and scenery in local settings. As we weave our way to the end, the proceedings become madcap, the characters multiply and multi-sect, and there are homilies. Strangely, for a film that is so sympathetic of the need for science and reason, there is also a moment straight from the Mithun-Rajanikant textbook of post-modern medicine.

It's a fitting sign of the surreal nature of events that I found myself doing something I had never dreamed I would: watch a film whose soundtrack was scored by Himesh Reshammiya. Largely forgettable, the only saving grace was the devotional Mukunda Mukunda which in addition to serving as Asin's re-entry point, accompanies one of the more elegant and clever moments in the movie: the shadow theatrical play about the Vishnu Dashavatharam. There was a strange depth to the 12th century sequences as well (despite some of the CGI), which once again serve as testament that the man is good at depicting history.

And closing with the ten. At times, you're beset by the uneasy feeling that the whole of Madame Tussauds' is on the loose, there are so many pale, waxy outlines. I think there are some interesting allusions with the names of the characters which I haven't teased out fully, perhaps except for the execrable 'George Bush'. 'Balram Naidu' was nicely done (reminscent of the mayor in Indrudu Chandrudu), but perhaps the best of the lot was the tough-talking environmentalist 'Vincent Poovaraagan', in both dress and demeanour.

In all, Dasaavatharam is no six-course meal, but perhaps Kamal Hassan never intended it to be so. Of course, for all that money, it'd have been good had they hired better cutlery and not just painted it in. But as far as cinema-as-aviyal goes, it's not such a bad mix.

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: 'uDal maNNukku'

song: uDal maNNukku
recited by: Arvind Swamy

uDal maNNukku tells the tale of how Anandam (unofficially representing M.G.R. in Mani Ratnam's fictional universe) in Iruvar becomes a star. Like the previous two songs dissected so far on this blog, this poetic recital comes from within a 'mousetrap'-ed film ("Veeraprathaban"). But unlike the other two, this is the first song to carry interesting political connotations (that reach their climax in the magnificent 'aayirathil naan oruvan' song.)

Note that MGR's first success as 'hero' came in the 1947 Rajakumari, written by one M.Karunanidhi.

film context
After suffering the ignominy of seeing his first film as hero shut down due to financial trouble, Anandan has finally found new hope in a historical. This is also a good time to introduce his good friend Tamilchelvan to films. In addition to being a budding political activist, he also writes commanding prose and poetry. Given the situation by the director ("a brave Tamil revolutionary has to rescue a kidnapped 'rajakumari'"), Tamilchelvan starts to pen his lyrics. We switch to the picturised song and end with great applause and adulatory mayhem in the cinema theatres.

the music
In what is more of a recitation than a conventional song, the arrangements are extremely spare, with just a string section (violins mainly) accompanying a deep string swipe. Briefly punctuated by strong percussions and "fight" music, the staccato melody returns with choral accompaniment. This provides a perfectly belligerent mood to the on-screen action.

I don't think the music references any work of that period, and in that sense is quite different from the other songs in the album which at their core had elements reflecting the times.

the playback
Perhaps the kindest explanation of why Arvind Swamy provides the voice for this song (and another lyrical narration later) is that Mani Ratnam saw him as some sort of lucky mascot, what with both of his previous Ratnam appearances turning into hits. Swamy's diction is poor in places (jarring for a song that significantly extols Tamil chauvinism via its lyrics) and his voice tends to get hoarse at the end. Perhaps lyricist Vairamuthu could have taken the mantle upon himself for these songs?

the lyrics
Though the music does not seem to make any explicit allusions to the age, this is not the case with the lyrics. The lines "uDal maNNukku, uyir tamizhukku" (body for the Tamil soil, life for Tamil itself) was a major clarion call during the 60s. The DMK used it as a rallying phrase in their anti-Hindi protests, so this is a politically loaded phrase. The rest of the lyrics invoke an ominous gravity through the choice of words, a hallmark of DMK writers epitomised by M. Karunanidhi.

You could, therefore, interpret the song as an example of how the politically active film-men of the times wrote with two objectives in mind: one, meeting the ostensible goals of the screenplay, but importantly, two, of creating material that would have a life outside the theatre. Each chant in this song invokes Tamil pride and the determination of those 'revolutionaries' who thought themselves as its protectors in the face of the northern imposition.

the picturisation
The song presents several set-pieces from the historical movies of those times: horseback hero wielding cutlasses fighting off enemy soldiers; sceneries involving chains and bells and ropes; the hapless belle waiting to be rescued; stylised fighting (we saw this right upto the nineties!). In B&W, this song introduces Ramani (Gowthami) in the film, ending with the leads being overwhelmed by the huge reaction of the crowds to what has become a massive hit. Anandan is now a bona fide star.

Useful references
1. The chapter on The Anti-Hindi Agitation in Vaasanthi's book "Cut-outs, Caste and Cine Stars"
2. I can't seem to find any lyrics online

Next post: 'Hello, Mr. Ethirkatchi'
Previous post: 'Poo KoDiyin Punnagai'

Obits: The Final Quarantine, The Talented Mr. Minghella, The Wronged Man

Last week was full of goodbyes, starting with cricketer Bill Brown. Here are some more.

The Final Quarantine

By the end of his life, Sir Arthur C. Clarke was reportedly losing his memory, finding comfort in the distant wisps of the past. Perhaps this was the last and most personal of all his prophecies, a prescience signalled by HAL, probably the most significant fictional character he ever created, the epitome of the anthropomorphized computer. At any rate, Arthur C. Clarke himself is in no danger of being forgotten in a hurry by the world. To me, his writings always seemed to echo the seaside that was never far away from a man who had called two islands home for 90 years - unrhurried, eternal, with visible depth, and with promises beyond the immediate horizon.

I don't have a good appetite for full length science fiction, but I immensely enjoyed both Odysseys 2010 and 2061. There still are several of his fiction novels that I haven't read. His Profiles of the Future, found in a book exhibition, lies at the back of the book cupboard, unread. For, like with other sci-fi writers, I mainly preferred Clarke's short stories, which were succint and clever. My personal favourite, one that illustrates all the collective power of Clarke's neurons and fingers, is called Quarantine. It was written as a challenge, to fit a story on a postcard. From such little acorns do mighty oaks grow, as The Sentinel may testify. Someday, the oaks fall too, but seldom before a grand life.

The Talented Mr. Minghella

Dying relatively young was film director Anthony Minghella. I didn't like his most feted work "The English Patient", but I really liked the slightly underrated "The Talented Mr. Ripley".

The Wronged Man

Whenever I saw (or see) Raghuvaran on film, I always got this feeling that the man was criminally underused as an actor, and that he knew it himself. Yes, being mostly used a 'villain', he had to make outrageous roles look believable, and had to develop menacing tones and tics to keep him in business. If Amjad Khan was the gigantic baddie, Raghuvaran would be on the other side of the body mass index see-saw, who, to be evil despite his lankiness, had to have several layers of dark. Layers that would never really be peeled back.

Raghuvaran made his debut in the 'arty' Ezhavathu Manithan (incidentally, made by a relative of mine) but soon segued into professional nastiness, especially in opposition to Rajnikanth. He was usually urban, ruffled, not shying away from underhand treachery, eyes heavy (some say this was the effect of a drug habit) and dark. The odd Anjali apart, it seemed Raghuvaran, shirt out and in tall trousers, always ended up on the wrong side of things in this unjust world, not giving in without a fight, and not without making the hero look good, just about.

Riff liffts

Riff liffts

It happens a lot on radio, sometimes on TV. One can hear small but significant fragments of music taken directly from lesser known tracks, such as some of A.R.Rahman's Tamil works. For instance, today, a local radio ad was accompanied by one of those stunning interludes from Sahaanaa (Sivaji). Earlier, I have heard riffs from Madrasa sutthi paakka porEn (May Maatham) and the opening bars of the astounding Hello Mr. Ethirkatchi (Iruvar). A promo for a TV serial uses the wonderful title music from Vishal Bhardwaj's "The Blue Umbrella".

It's just that most ears don't realise or appreciate what gems have wafted by.

Sivaji for President?

I haven't followed the news since last evening, so in the morning, I look at my complimentary copy of Mid-Day. The front page has a feature on how Rajnikant used treatments to go "fair" for a song. I almost miss what is for me the biggest news of the day: Pratibha Patil's surpising entry into the Presidential race. But then imbalance is restored with a story about Rakhi Sawant, alleged Rajnikant fan.

The "news" channels are predictably tripping over themselves to cover the big buzz of the day. There are correspondents in multiplexes as far as Gurgaon. Improbably though, the NDTV man covering the representative Chennai multiplex is called Thapar Thapa (which is like sending someone called Chokkalingam to cover the ritual sacrifices of the tribes of Papua New Guinea). Clearly not a local, he calls the movie "The Sivaji" and says the number of prints clearly shows the "magnanimity" of the scale of distribution. Sigh.

The problem here is that none of these Ground Hero reports tells us anything useful. Now, I am as curious as some half a billion others to know how the film has turned out, but this coverage is as illuminating as a few simians typing away at word-processors in Wingdings. The only salvage of the morning: a snap interview of Rajnikant at the airport, declining to be compared to Amitabh B ("he's the Emperor, I'm the King, if at all I am one") - remember that an Amitabh film is also releasing today - and refusing to get into the "when politics" question, which was summarised by the piece-to-camera as "Rajnikant talking about his political ambitions" or some such.

In the midst of all this, I desperately want to know more about the lady most likely to be the first woman President of India (take that USA and France! ;-)). But no. I guess we get the news we deserve, or at any rate, we get the news someone thinks we deserve. Is it possible for a channel to take a deep breath and say, right, all this hoopla is fine, so give the Tamil flick a 5 min report, but let's get back to more important things, shall we? Or perhaps, those of us unpaid unemployed who sit in front of the TV on a Friday morning are indeed interested overwhelmingly in movies and not politics. Stick the Prez in the evening, the real men and women will be back by then.

Finally, the Shiv Sena gets the last word. When contacted on their stance on recent developments regarding Marathi pride, a spokesperson said: "We fully support it. This is a matter of the pratibhaa of the maraaThii maaNus.". He said that Shiv Sainiks have been told to go out there and fill the multiplexes and chant Jai Shivaji each time Rao-saheb twirls a ciggy (just menthol, don't worry Mr. Ramadoss). On Pratibha Patil however he simply said: "kaay?".

Ok, I did make that up. But it's getting harder to tell.

The pressures of being a 'S(h)ivaji'

The pressures of being a 'S(h)ivaji'

Many movie-watchers, especially outside Tamil Nadu, sneeringly say that no Rajnikanth movie ever really flops - the fans make sure of that. To an extent this is true - the "initials" are so immense that even Yash Raj may permit their golden jaws to unclench in awe for a moment. However, what we don't realise is the colossal pressure that the crew of a Rajnikanth movie must be under.

Perhaps the closest sense-making analogy is of the legendary pressure in Pascals that Sachin Tendulkar was said to have played under in the previous decade. The men behind the next Superstar movie have to first match and then exceed expectations. The poor performance of Baba threw a hurricane of flak down the doorstep of even the likes of A.R.Rahman; what's more, a dent in Rajnikanth's own powers had been made - it was felt his personal leanings towards spiritual subjects have unnecessary interfered with the image that his fans claim as their own.

But now that is all gatam, gatam. With Chandramukhi having set the stalls afire, all doubts were vanquished. Tomorrow, the collective efforts of Shankar, AVM, A.R.Rahman, a host of lyricists, actors, and finally the man himself in his 100th Tamil film, will be on display for a teething mass of salivating addicts. So let us remember the little things that they've got to improve upon, the Rajni records and trivia: the new Rajni moves, the "punch dialogues", the intro-song, the beats, the comic timing, the moments when gravity is sent on a paid vacation, the hairdos. This is a tough act to follow.

And if you haven't seen the killer move at the end of this trailer, you can click here, sit back and enjoy the fun.

Titular Magic

Titular Magic

Film titles are usually of the boringly mundane kind. You can't blame them - their makers have a film to sell. The titles have many a burden to carry: they must convey the right impression about the plot (Sholay and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge), attract attention (do you really expect people to go and see a film called Hazaaro.n Khwaishe.n Aisi when they could see Dhoom?), and be sufficiently functional (Bunty aur Babli and The Burning Train).

Not everyone is inclined to go on a flight of fancy, but sometimes some do. Cheeni Kum raised my eyebrows slightly, but it now seems like a nice title, one with several facets to it. One, it could indicate the age of the male protagonist (a low-sugar-daddy, if you please), or two (which has been indicated as the main reason) a not-so sweet romantic story, or even three, a nod to the supposedly sarcastic ways of the chef in question.

Some Tamil movies have smelt fragrantly of names. Mani Ratnam's Mouna Ragam (literally: 'the silent raag'), Alaipayuthey (evoking both the restless ocean and a famous devotional song), or Kannathil Muthamittal (literally: (if) 'kissed on the cheek'). An Aazhtha Ezhuthu (the Tamil character made of three dots) was lost in translation to Yuva. Similarly, Gautham Menon showed a creative mind in picking the likes of Kaaka Kaaka (literally: "to protect", also a well-known fragment from a religious hymn) and Vettaiyadu Vilayadu (literally: "to hunt and play") for his similarly tuned cop themes.

Several English movies also seem to have boldly chosen names that branch off oddly from the beaten path (yes, yes, the majority still go for a Snakes on a Plane or a Commando). My all time favourites would be Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and American Beauty.

Memories of "Agni Nakshatram"

No, the searing temperatures have nothing to do with this nostalgia trip. After many years, the songs of Agni Nakshatram¹ (dir: Mani Ratnam, music: Ilaiyaraja) splashed sonorously on the ears, and provoked memories of that 1989 summer when I first watched the movie.

The occasion had been a family gathering of some sort. I was just about getting introduced to the world of contemporary Tamil cinema after our move to Madras (I did not know words like "contemporary" then, mind you). I don't know if we watched the film in the middle of May, but a VCR and tape procured by enthusiastic cousins came as a sparkling relief on a Sunday afternoon.

The film is one of the best entertainers I can remember having seen - a rocking 3 hours filled with whistle-worthy dramatic and action scenes, and one heck of a music score. It's been a while since I've seen movies like Rangeela and this, which not only regale unabashedly, but also get their elements spot on. A Prabhu with a reputation for pudginess became this big, tough inspector with a penchant for arresting half-brother Karthik who was reprising his Mouna Ragam cameo as a street-lad. Both were being pursued (respectively, of course) by the not-much-to-do-in-2nd-half lead actresses, delicate Amala and mysterious Nirosha. Add to it political intrigue, hospital climaxes, brothers-at-throats episodes among muddy stables, soft-focus lighting, and the persistent suffusion of disco, and you have a terrific ride. Oh, and the exceptional comedy track featuring Janakaraj and V.K.Ramaswamy - just thinking about Janakaraj doing a lap of pure joy when the bus leaves sets my giggle-centres off.

Back to the songs: The eyebrow-raising "ninnukori varNam" which took the first few words of the childhood varnam and spun it off into a Chitra special, the Karthik-statement-of-life in "raaja..." voiced by the Raja himself, the courting song "rojaa puu" set in a gym (of all places) allowing Amala and gang to show off their flourescent leotards, "oru puu.ngaavanam" featuring Nirosha doing multiple laps of freestyle in an Olympic swimming pool (must confess that there is a limit to watching anyone do that, and so we fast-forwarded the song to great hilarity), the much more conventional love-songs, full of saris and feelings, in "thuu.ngaatha vizhigaL" and "vaa vaa anbe anbe". Quite a treat overall.

The power of the scenes and dialogues, the novelty of the song situations and the lighting, the sheer fun of the film - those were less judgemental times!

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1: Agni Nakshatram refers to a period in May at which the summer heat is supposed to be at its most extreme.

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: 'Poo KoDiyin Punnagai'

song: poo koDiyin punnagai
singer: Sandhya

film context
Poo KoDiyin Punnagai is chronologically the third song in Iruvar (we'll look at the second later). Just like Narumugaiye, it's a song for a film-within-the-film, featuring Anandan and Ramani (Gautami) as his heroine. They've starred in an earlier hit (Anandan's first success as a hero) and the song mirrors their growing relationship in real life. (Anandan's wife Pushpa has earlier died during childbirth.) Incidentally, "Ramani" is the role in the movie that corresponds to V.N.Janaki in real-life, the actress who marries "Anandan"/MGR.

The song is immaculately featured as a set of classic set-pieces of the 60s, usually with a (fake) garden backdrop at night (painted moon glittering in the yonder pond). The heroine has bashful dance-steps around the hero, who in contrast, stands confident and solid, dressed in his suit (yes, then a lot of Tamil film heroes wore suits and ties in films in everday life!) and doesn't have to do much of the dancing. Or set in a huge palatial house with stairwells. Puff blouses and flowers later, you get the picture.

the music, the playback
You could be mistaken for thinking this was a lost Viswanathan-Ramamurthy song. The song captures the essence of their "light" film music - simple orchestrations for the love songs, very dulcet and soothing amidst a light rhythm beat (Rahman uses a tablaa).

V-R songs were quite melody oriented and marked a shift from the previous styles involving heavy classical influences, which can be clearly contrasted by comparing Narumugaiye and this song. They also used instruments which were not common in TFM or Carnatic classical, such as more North Indian or Western instruments. Rahman achieves the effects by similar means. The instruments I thought I could recognise were the accordion, flute, tablaa, santoor, violins and other strings, shehnaai, triangles and reso-reso, sarangii, which may sound like a lot, but gave the music a texture that perfectly recalled the past. In the end, it came down to the melody which was just wonderfully spot on.

Rahman has a talent for picking out the patterns that identify a genre or an era and using that effectively. This was on show in this film and particularly this song.

the playback
Again, like the first song, the choice of the playback singer gave the song a big lift. Sandhya sings this song in a voice that is P. Susheela's. Not a voice that is borrowed or mimicked, but the same. (I've read Sandhya is P.Susheela's niece and daughter-in-law.) Their voices are so similar that for several days I thought they had actually roped in P. Susheela to sing this song (incidentally, this album did not make use of anyone actually associated directly with that era, which makes this effort even more commendable).

P. Susheela was one of the finest voices on the TFM soundscapes and along with the likes of S.Janaki, defined the female crooning voice of Tamil silver screens for much of the 60s, 70s and 80s (she also sang a song for Rahman in the film Puthiya Mugam). Since I haven't heard any songs of Sandhya outside this, I don't know if she's changed her voice to sound like her aunt for this song, but the resemblance is incredibly uncanny.

the lyrics
Vairamuthu opts for a much more comprehensible set of lines that appropriately aren't too aggressive, but are poetic and metaphorical as was usually the case with those times. A soft expression of love from the feminine point of view has been well penned. I don't quite know if it references any of the songs by the likes of Kannadasan, the leading lyricist of his and those times, but the manner is the same. The progression of the lyrics also reflect Ramani's actual emotions for Anandan and her increasing need to escape her current circumstances.

the picturisation
The picturisation and choreography were very fascinating in this song. As mentioned before, the set-pieces were mounted very well. The song opens with sepia-tinted lighting at night, with trees and a pond and the reflected moon. As the song plays, we also see off-camera moments that indicate how both Anandan and Ramani continue to fall for each other, as also the growing frustrations of Ramani's uncle ('Nizhalgal' Ravi) on seeing their mutual fondness.

Gautami does a Saroja Devi - of this there is little doubt. She has on the famous ribbons and double-tails, with first the paavaDai-daavaNi and later the puffy blouses. The coquettish dance movements (Raghuram also appears in the song as the dance choreographer) are patently like Saroja Devi (Saroja Devi was one of the leading stars of her age - not one of my favourites, for she had a very screechy voice and ultra-melodramatic style, which was probably not her fault!. She also shared great on-screen chemistry with the likes of MGR and Gemini Ganesan.) Gautami does an excellent job, not only as the dainty danseuse, but as the increasingly abused girl who still has to go out there and give a cinematic shot of a love-struck star. (A memorable moment is when she's quickly practicing her steps after make-up and turns towards her uncle in perfect step to the rhythm.)

Mohanlal, for his part, shows the transformation that Anandan is going through - he is now increasingly self-assured in his body language (being a star and having been introduced to the value of mass adulation by Tamilchelvan feeds into this characterisation of Anandan). When the song moves outdoors, Anandan is doing the famous swagger-walk twirling his coat in a manner that clearly references some of the cult MGR mannerisms. It is quite amusing to see these songs these days, when the hero just stood there gazing at the heroine prancing about doing semi-classical steps infused with a new cinematic idiom (it would take the days of Rajesh Khanna and others to finally burst the macho imagery and indulge in some flippant dance moves with their leading ladies!).

Useful web references
1. Lyrics with serviceable English translation
2. Another lyrics page
3. TFM forum pages mentioning the relationship between Sandhya and P. Susheela: 1, 2
4. A P. Susheela website
5. Kannadasan bio
6. Saroja Devi bio
7. Janaki Ramachandran

Next post: uDal maNNukku
Previous post: 'Narumugaiye'

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: 'Narumugaiye'

song: narumugaiye
singers: Unnikrishnan, Bombay Jayashri

film context
This is the first song of the film. It is a period of great happiness for Anandan (Mohanlal), for he seems to have finally landed his big break, working as a 'hero' for the first time and he has also just married Pushpa (Aishwarya Rai, version 1). The song is principally structured as a duet for that film-within-film featuring the leads (Madhubala in a guest appearance) while masterfully cutting back to real-life to the locally honeymooning (!) couple, with Anandan showing off some his histrionics to his new wife.

The setting seems to be from the story of Shakuntala, with Dushyanta riding into the ashram to encounter the dazzling damsel (the famous Raja Ravi Varma pose is elegantly referenced in one of the dance poses).

the music, the playback
A.R.Rahman tuned an exquisite Carnatic classical based song for 'Narumugaiye' using the traditional mridangam, ghaTam, violins and veeNai (if I recognise it correctly). (It would surprise some who saw him merely as a pop musician.) The song blends in wonderfully with the visuals and the lyrics, and is one of the great melodies of the Rahman catalogue.

the playback
The choice of the playback singers was particularly of interest. Unnikrishnan and Bombay Jayashri, both classical singers of some repute, gave their voices to this song. Unnikrishnan had already made a stunning debut (for Rahman), winning a National Award for "ennavaLe" (Kadhalan) and "uyirum niiye" (Pavithra) a couple of years ago. Bombay Jayashri was the bigger surprise packet - she was well-known in the Carnatic music circuit for a while for being one of the best singers from the younger generation, and this was a big step in terms of more commercial fame (of course, she became much more famous for 'Vaseegara' (Minnale)).

In the early days of TFM, the participation of classical singers in playback was a fairly common occurrence, for after all, they were the experts. The likes of M.S.Subbulakshmi (famously, an actress too) and M.L.Vasanthakumari (whose daughter Srividya would later join films) were associated with several big numbers. The parting of ways and the snobbery associated against film music would happen later given the nature of the productions (though in recent times, we have seen more practising Carnatic singers take to the mike for non-classical times in a long time - of course, K.J.Yesudas was a different phenomenon). The songs of that point were heavily influenced by the classical tradition, which is why the choice of the playback singers for this song was so relevant.

the lyrics
Vairamuthu's lyrics invoked the now highly abstruse classical (Sangam) Tamil, in which much of the great classics of Tamil literature were written. It's far removed from the common forms of Tamil these days, which makes it hard for people like me with no formal schooling in Tamil to follow. Vairamuthu made some direct references to some of the great works, using phrases from them and thus evoking the classic age. The result was a very fine marriage between words, visuals and music.

the picturisation
Madhubala showing off her bharatanatyam skills as the fragile Shakuntala watched by the warrior Dushyanta, surrounded by deer, waterfalls and such mytho-historical knick-knacks forms the "movie" side of the song. This is shot in Black and White with the old-fashioned stylistic dissolves and spiral wipes that establish the "period" of the visuals very well. The real-life romance is in colour, in much more plebian surroundings with the smitten Anandan illustrating to his bride some of the movie action - a contrast that is great to watch and is excellent for character development. Santosh Sivan's camera begins to have a dynamism of its own in these songs.

Useful web references
1. A post on Naadodi that gives some literary context to the lines "aTTrrai thi.ngaL avveNNilavil"
2. A typically passionate TFM forum discussion on bringing literature to the common man via film songs
3. Another TFM forum thread about the merits of Vairamuthu's references
4. Lyrics of the song (in Tamil only, untranslated)
5. Lyrics with English translation
6. Bombay Jayashri's website
7. Unnikrishnan bio

Previous post: Introduction -II
Next post: 'Poo KoDiyin Punnagai'

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: Introduction - II

Tamil cinema music

In the early days of the talkies, Tamil films were similar to their Northern counterparts. Cinema plots revolved around mythologicals, devotionals and social dramas, and actors had to be competent singers as playback was as yet unemployed. As a result, leading actors like M.K.Thyagaraja Bagavathar (K.L.Saigal is probably the best Hindi equivalent) sang their classical and semi-classical songs under the baton of composers like Papanasam Sivan and G.Ramanathan. Later, the classical streak would continue with legends like K.V.Mahadevan (who had a long and successful career, and was incidentally (the first recipient of the National Award for Best Music Direction). (Tamil movies also had a surfeit of action movies, usually historicals, where swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks-types would wield swords and shields in often well-choreographed sequences. MGR was one of the leading performers of this genre) However, it was the emergence of the duo of M.S.Viswanathan and T.K.Ramamurthy that caused a paradigm shift in TFM. (So much so that TFM is often broadly divided into three parts, one for each era of Viswananathan-Ramamurthy (V-R), Ilaiyaraja and A.R.Rahman. Naturally, this is unfair on several other gifted music composers through the years, but these phases capture succintly the prevailing mood over time as their impact has been tremendous).

V-R's immense success was because they ushered in an era of "light music" that was a lot more accessible to listeners than the more ponderous classical influence that was in vogue. They used "western" instruments such as the piano and drums, created simple, hummable and dulcet melodies, and contributed greatly to the success of films that starred all the major actors and actresses of that period. (Ilaiyaraja would do something similar with traditional folk influences and then programming, while Rahman's eclectic inspirations and sound engineering would revolutionise the state of film music in their times.) The impression that V-R wielded cannot be underestimated - film and light music had become genuine branches of music that could be critiqued differently. Singers like P.B.Srinivas, A.M.Raja and wife Jikki, T.M.Soundarrajan, P.Susheela, S.Janaki, and others would become household names with their distinctive voices.

It was also at this time that political thought began to be woven into film stories, dialogues and lyrics. Annadurai and Karunanidhi had been doing so with their plays (a rich theatrical tradition usually formed the background of many who were now working in films - actors, singers, lyrics, musicians, writers usually had a significant body of experience before moving to this more glittering medium) and were now starting to do the same with their silver screen outputs. The DMK had the fortune of being the party that many of the film stalwarts gravitated to. They, and not the party in power i.e. the Congress, were making things happen in the state (the Congress had become identified with Brahminical status quo-ists) and a new change was in the air. Lyricists like Kannadasan and Vaali had political views of their own. Since almost everyone involved had a political affiliation and as in most cases, these were of the same orientation, the political content of their collaborations became very significant. This is not to say that all movies were politically flavoured. They still made movies with fantasies, social melodramas, comedies etc., but the political agendas were not too far away. (Contrast this with the Hindi film industry, which in those days did have lyricists like Kaifi Azmi and Sahir who were politically active, but this never quite spilled over to the mainstream like in Tamil Nadu.)

In later years, after splits and machinations, things would come to such a pass that it was common for people to join or leave cast and crew after falling in or out with the likes of MGR and Karunanidhi.

Useful web references:
1. A very informative thread about MGR songs, the people involved, and their political content: 1, 2
2. A TFM forum thread on M.S.Viswanathan songs
3. Notes on K.V.Mahadevan: 1, 2
4. An Outlook article on Tamil film music (link via Sambhar Mafia)
(unfortunately, on the Web, there seems to be a lack of credible and summarised information on the history and influences of TFM, especially on specific individuals)

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Iruvar's cast and technicians

Several members of the cast and crew of Iruvar put in performances of a lifetime. The film was a commercial disappointment, but many of those involved came out with their reputations enhanced.

Mani Ratnam: Iruvar, is IMHO, his best work till date. It had everything you associate (and enjoy) with a Mani Ratnam film. Flaws apart, it showed why in several departments and in sheer conceptualisation, he is head-and-shoulders above many of his contemporaries. He also showed a keen sense of history, both cinematic and political, and just for being a documenter of tribute, he needs to be commended. The failure must have hurt (Dil Se(1998) would follow soon), and he went back to his other speciality of the small, intimate middle-class genre with "Alai Payuthey" for some much needed success.
Incidentally, wife Suhasini wrote the dialogues for Iruvar.

A.R.Rahman: By then, Rahman was the biggest composer not just at home with commercial hits for Rajnikanth (Muthu (1995)) and Prabhu Deva (Love Birds (1996) and Mr. Romeo (1996)), but also in the country after the success of Rangeela (1994-95), Indian/Hindustani (1996-97) and Minsaara Kanavu/Sapnay (1996-97) (for which he won the National Award for the second time). But this was perhaps his first serious "period" score and showed that he could produce the requisite (and exquisite) diversity for a complex script of this nature.

Vairamuthu: Vairamuthu is in the Karunanidhi mould in that he writes poetry outside of films, writes extensively for films, and is politically inclined. In this film, he also had to provide pieces of poetry and blank verse for the Karunanidhi character. It was an admirable piece of work from the lyricist as we shall see in later posts.

Prakash Raj: Prakash Raj is not a native Tamil speaker (IIRC, he is Kannadiga), so it must have been daunting to play the Karunanidhi role as he did. He turned in a stupendous performance, all fire and brimstone, won himself a National Award for Best Supporting Actor and announced himself on the cinema stage. It would fuel his rise as a much vaunted "intense" actor.

Aishwarya Rai: This was her first film, a couple of years after the whole beauty pageant jamboree, and it created a buzz. Rai actually acts fairly well in the movie, first as the demure and shy housewife and then as the outgoing girl-actress. The movie showcased her dancing abilities as well and well, it didn't at all foretell the downward spiral of her histrionic evolution. Mani Ratnam has often surprised all with his ability to elicit quality performances from his actors, and Rai would be hoping a return to the stable with Guru will provide a glimpse of the promise of Iruvar.

Santosh Sivan: India's best cinematographer (who also made his pathbreaking "Terrorist" that year) teamed up with Mani Ratnam again to create an work of pure genius. The tracking, the Steadicam, the crane shots in this film are mindblowing. His contribution was felt even in the songs, and would win him a National Award for his efforts.

Sameer Chanda: Mani Ratnam has always worked with great art directors and Sameer Chanda did not disappoint. The sets and the props were meticulous, especially if you realise they had to create sets for sets of older films.

The cameos: We had Revathy and Tabu as the Tamizhchelvan wives, Gauthami in the Janaki slot, Nasser with his distinctive dubbing as Annadurai and many more stalwarts in small roles (even had Kalpana Iyer as Anandan's mother!). (The characters of the wives were never quite fully developed - one of the flaws)

Mohanlal: And finally for Mohanlal. Iruvar would never have been what it is without this brilliant actor. I have seen many of his acting gems, which is why it is with great care I say that this was easily his best performance ever. That he did not win any major awards for that performance is no reflection on it (ironically, the National Award that year went to two of his fellow Malayali actors). As the young actor trying hard to impress with his histrionics and sword-play, in his moments of despair, as the reticent entrant to politics who realises his star-power, as the aging and now wily politician, and finally as the man playing MGR, you will not see a more first-rate show in a movie.

Useful web references:
1. The Wikipedia page on Iruvar
2. (update) Baradwaj Rangan's succint summary of the influences of the film (which covers many of the points I noticed and plan to write about) (link via S. Karthik)

Previous Post: Part I of the Introduction
Next Post: "Narumugaiye"

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: Introduction - I

MGR, Karunanidhi, the plot

There are many Tamil film viewers who consider Iruvar to be among the best films they've ever seen. I'm one of those. Now, the film is far from being perfect, but as flawed efforts go, this one is a gem of the highest order. Film criticism has it that a good film has its whole greater than its parts, but Iruvar had several brilliant (and I use the adjective carefully) parts without being completely satisfactory. Clearly, the film was based on real people and events, and the very nature of that depiction was going to be highly controversial, mainly due to the levels of almost fanatical devotion these people have generated. To my mind, that seems to have affected the overall cohesion of the film.

Iruvar begins with a statement saying "this is not a true story" - a statement which is correct only in the extremely technical sense. For about 80% of the film is based on true people and events to such an extent that it serves as an almost accurate biographical account of the major milestones in the lives of Marathur Gopalamenon Ramachandran and Muthuvel Karunanidhi. In several films, Mani Ratnam has made coy references to real people and incidents, but never more overtly as in this film, which is why the opening disclaimer is either a case of chickening-out or a concession to those who'd have bones to pick. Unfortunately, I could not follow the local press in 1997 and since it was just before the WWW era where every aspect could be recorded in intense detail on a webpage, I couldn't find any notings on the controversies that dogged the film. That political opinions were raised I do remember, but not much else. I have often wondered whether the voice of the film was muzzled at points - there are some scenes where the dialogue is masked by background music, and the denouements of the Jayalalitha analogue and the ending as a whole seemed rushed and unsatisfying. Hence, my opinion of the film as being flawed.

Now, this film is unlikely to have the same kind of impact for those who do not know much about Tamil filmdom and the history of the politics in the state. They will miss the nuances, the multiple visual and audio references, the characters in the sidelights - a great pity for it is such a wonderful film. Hence I thought I'd make a quick gist of the context of the film without which any discussion of the music will be difficult.

Politics and films have been bed-fellows in many parts of India, but no coupling has been more passionate, potent, tempestuous or animated as in the case of Tamil Nadu. The almost seamless union between the two domains reached its apogee during the 40-odd years of the two men who ended up as the poles of their respective parties. "Parties" not "Movements", for the axioms of the *DMKs were fundamentally the same - the parties became (and still remain) personality-driven, which is perhaps due to the memes of filmstar egos. The Iruvar (or "The Duo") were MGR and Karunanidhi.

Now, most today remember MGR as the emblematic CM of Tamil Nadu who started life as an actor, became a superstar, and provoked a rash of inexplicable suicides during the most critical phase of his illness and after his death. So it's interesting to know that MGR was an outsider to Tamil Nadu, with his Malayali origins (note the "Menon" in his name) and his Lankan Tamil geographical roots (he was born in Kandy). Compelled to join a theatre company due to poverty, it wasn't until his early thirties and many setbacks later that he became a successful actor. The film that made his name was Rajakumari which was penned by a vigorous young script-writer and political activist named M. Karunanidhi.

M. Karunanidhi followed his mentor and leader C.N.Annadurai's model of brilliantly fusing political ideology in his plays, essays and later films. It was a natural progression for these litterateurs who realised the potency of such an amalgamation. Movies like 'Sivaji' Ganesan's acting debut "Parasakthi" fuelled the DMK's rationalistic, anti-Brahminism, lower caste empowerment movements. Karunanidhi would also cause a national flutter by leading the protests against imposition of Hindi in the state. Soon, he was the number two of the party after 'Arignar' Anna (who became the state's first non-Congress Chief Minister) and succeeded him after his death. MGR was pulled into the party, who benefited from the immense popularity of this actor, while MGR in turn also gained further stardom as the movies that these combinations provided were huge hits. MGR also acted in several of the non-political commercial romantic and fantasy hits and though his main rival was 'Sivaji' Ganesan, they would make the separation between the 'actor-star' and the 'star-actor' a paradigm that Kamal Haasan and Rajnikanth would later pick up the mantles for.

Soon enough, the personalities and egos would lead to a parting of the two swords from the same scabbard, resulting in the formation of the AIADMK and sowing the seeds for a bitter political rivalry that only seems to worsen every five years. The women in the lives of these men also played a major role - Karunanidhi's two living wives, MGR's marriage (in all, he'd had three marriages - the first two died of natural causes at a young age) to a not-so successful actress and later CM, Janaki, and the much more public companionship of Jayalalitha Jayaram.

There were several more nuances to this relationship and even the cameo players such as various mothers, sidekicks, enmities and political strategies would make their story a very compelling one. One can see why a filmmaker like Mani Ratnam would be so seduced by the plot. That he made a superb film out of it is partly to do with the source material, and the perceived blemishes are probably due to the complexities of the times.

Iruvar was initially titled Anandam in reference to the MGR analogue played by Mohanlal. This would also have been an apt title, as the film's story splits roughly 70:30 in favour of 'Anandam' rather than 'Tamizhchelvan' (played by Prakash Raj). The sympathies are arranged in favour of Anandam as a result, and it is through him that we progress in the film. The film spans from Anandam as the struggling actor through his dizzying ascent to stardom, first box-office wise and later political, and upto his death. The intersecting story of Tamizhchelvan as the firebrand poet, writer and politician who befriends Anandam, ascends to the highest chair in the land and has to suffer defeat at the hands of the same person he considered his political protégé forms the remainder of the double-helix of the story.

(Now that Iruvar isn't a true story is a laughable claim because of the exceedingly careful detailing in many of the performances, setpieces, references to names, body language and events. We shall discover many of these looking at just the songs which as I said were a wonderful dedication to an entire generation of Tamil film music.)

Useful web references:
1.M.G.Ramachandran - a summarised bio
2.M. Karunanidhi - a bio
3.MGR - a bio
(note that the two above links are laudatory in essence, so don't expect too much objectivity)

Previous Post: Prologue
Next post: Introduction to the music scenario of those times and the people behind "Iruvar"

Exploring the music of Iruvar :: Prologue

Period music, 'Iruvar' by Mani Ratnam and A.R.Rahman

The term "period music" is a fairly misused term in Indian film music. Now, I strongly believe that we don't quite give our film music a lot of the credit it deserves. Hardly elsewhere would you see such demands made of music composers and song-writers to come up with songs that have to fit such a diversity of contexts, orchestrations and purposes. Many of the best world musicians specialise in their own genres and get better as time goes by, while some of our best film musicians have grappled with and overcome the challenges of geographical and historical variety that film makers have thrown at them. Many of these challenges have involved creating a score for stories that are set in particular points of time and hence do not allow the film composer a free rein of the usual "two love songs, one sad tearjerker, one lullaby, one reunification melody" formula.

Now, what "authentic period music" really is depends on what the listener thinks the music of that period was. In many cases, it is merely the avoidance of certain kinds of instruments (no electric guitars or drums for songs of the past!) or presence of certain genres (classical or jazz is often used to convey a period mood). The bottomline being: anything but that which is contemporary. Retro has been used to pay tribute or to parody ("woh laDaki hai kahaa.n" - Dil Chahta Hai), "jhankaar!" - Jhankaar Beats, "kyu.n aage piiche" - Golmaal-Fun Unlimited), but here we shall focus on the more serious (at least in intention!) of the efforts. Anu Malik's Asoka was much pilloried for not quite being out of a Mauryan soundscape, but who really knows how they serenaded each other then? In contrast, Naushad's Mughal-é-Azam and Khayyam's Umrao Jaan received both critical and commercial acclaim for their songs. Each had managed to satisfy both the psychological needs of their listeners (classical, court, devotional songs in the opulent Mughal-era film in the former; aristocratic mujras flavoured with the essence of the Lakhnawi tradition in the latter) as well as provide a great film experience, being accompanied by lyrics and performances that enhanced the music. No wonder they remain ageless classics. Hollywood films make a lot of movies set in particular time-periods, but since they usually don't make the same kinds of demands, they typically solve the problem by using a lot of diegetic music (The Shawshank Redemption) or soundtracks that use real scores of that era (Almost Famous is a wonderful example). Of course, this is a bit of a generalisation (see Chicago as an example to the contrary), but to my mind, it's not the same as in Indian films. (For a great example of diegetic music in Hindi films, see Hazaaron Khwahishen Aisi (2005).)

(Given that anything "period" calls for careful detailing of the mise-en-scene and the music emanating from the frame, and given mainstream cinema's usually lackadaisical approach to movie-making in general, you can often spot a lot of incongruous howlers where a flashback to a previous janam or to execrable college-lives is often accompanied by music and choreography so post-post-modern that it borders on prescient science fiction.)

Coming to the main purpose of this post, Mani Ratnam's Iruvar (1997) was quite different than many "period" movies. Not because it was based on several true incidents and more importantly, on some very specific people who had a great deal to do with both the Tamil film industry and Tamil politics in a very specific time frame, but because it had to completely reference actual film song styles. The setting wasn't temporally too far away unlike the Mughals or 19th century Lucknow and also had a great deal to do with music. The men behind the music for this film consciously chose to stay within the constraints of the context and in doing so, IMO, produced one of the best film albums ever heard. The score pays rich tribute to the Tamil film music of that period, captures the essence of the musical yield of those times without ever parodying it and provides a wonderful gist to those of us who haven't heard too much of the early masters. In following posts, I explore this album in order to understand the musical influences and references. I am not capable of a technical analysis of the songs, but have used this as a great opportunity to learn a bit about music from an era gone by. The team of Mani Ratnam, A.R.Rahman, Vairamuthu, Santosh Sivan, the choreographers, and the actors collaborated magnificently to produce an album and film of great significance, as we shall see in successive posts on this topic, and I found it a very fascinating experience. Incidentally, Mani Ratnam's next film Guru seems to spread across a large span of time like some of his fictional bio-pics (Nayakan, Iruvar) which may suggest a soundtrack that reflects the music of the related chronology. (The piece of music on the official website has a very promising rock-and-roll theme.) The music is due to be out in a month's time, so this is a good time to look at this team's harvest in the past.

(The usual disclaimer of not claiming complete authority over the subject applies. Factual errors are very likely because I'm going to rely on childhood memories for a lot of details about some of the film songs - in fact, I'd be very glad to find errors being pointed out and further information on any of the aspects. Whatever minimal research I did showed a lack of resources on the Web - especially in comparison with Hindi film songs - with many of the song forums predictably degenerating into name-calling and turf-wars :-))

Next post: Introduction to the real-life protagonists