Lingaa works, par dil maange more ...

Coming in the backdrop of ueber duds like Kocchhai-adiyaan and Kuselan, and unbelievables non-pareil such as Endhiran, Lingaa is a simple deja vu tale on many counts. And it works, for a Rajni fan, despite what the critiquing neanderthals and High Court paramatmas could say! That means, the box office is/will be a-ringing, and there ends the economics lesson.

But beneath that account book lies the why-s, what-s and wtf-s. Here is my take on some of these.

The good-old Rajnikanth movies of the early- to mid-90s (before Superstar became S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R) such as Rajaadhi Raaja, Adhisayapp piravi, Muthu, to name a few, used to be believable tales that took off on a tangent, with ample space for comedy (situational as well as contrived), new-age Thirukkurals (on everything from faith, politics, way-of-life, and love), detestable villains who played their role perfectly, beautiful heroines at their personal heights as a set-piece (all those Kuluvalilles, Adikkudhu Kulirus, Selai kattum pennukkorus were primarily a highlight on the music and the heroines rather than on Rajnikanth), followed by an unbelievably funny yet idiotic fight sequence that noone could have rationally cooked up except as the climax of a Superstar movie.

Lingaa is all that, and more. I wont regale you on the positives, as they need to be rewinded, many a time. I will bore you on "the cup is half-full" moments, for that is often missed out.

The side tale is believable, fantastically so that it could well be the main tale rather than a sidey one, and hemmed in perfectly given the eternally parched nature of much of Tamland. This is the second big water war movie in Tam this year, with Vijay's Kathhi capturing the urban-rural dichotomy on water issues nicely (within the caveats of Tamland's movie-making of course). Rajnikanth's role of the British-era 18-gun salute zamindar transforming himself into an ICS Collector is filled with historical inaccuracies, especially so for the pre-World War II stage in 1939, but not necessarily discernible to a Rajni fan and the historically inept hoi polloi Indian. The desi version of a John Pennycuick and Arthur Cotton rolled into one tries to leverage their ongoing valorization efforts in different parts of India. There is the usual Kallanai-Kodiveri argument on dam building in Tamland, yet there is no finger pointing elsewhere (thankfully!) except at nature's fury perhaps. Even the British have been treated relatively softly with positives highlighted as much as the humans come in different forms-type argument. While that soft tone is typical of Rajnikanth movies, it still leaves a jarring note to the absolute perfidy that was the British rule. Only ignoramuses can find positives (net or otherwise) in the British rule.

Like Thanneer Thanneer (that original water war movie that begins with a kid losing his balance and losing the water he has collected with some effort, after picking up -- funnily enough -- a Rajnikanth picture on the way-side), this is a movie with a politician tale in the background. Nevertheless, the politician-villain continues the transformation of the Rajnikanth villain club from the hallowed heights of Ekambaram (Senthamarai in Moondru Mugam), Mark Anthony (Raghuvaran in Baasha), Neelambhari (Ramya Krishnan in Padaiyappa), etc. to the dud level that it has become with characters such as Adi Seshan (Suman in Shivaji), somuchso that Rajnikanth had to cook himself up as the villain in his next tale in Endhiran. This villain is not even a caricature, he is beyond a damn dud who cannot even confront Rajni with one tale of intrigue/sophistry despite being an MP. Even a pale version of a Perumal Pichai or a Saniyan Sagadhi or a Muthupandi would have made a better villain any day.

The heroines are as expectedly under-used and showcased primarily because that is what they have signed up for. And like most of the heroines of Rajnikanth's movies, they will be quickly forgotten for they have better career highlights than this movie. It is clear that age has slowed down Rajnikanth and with all those attendant constraints, he cannot shake a leg, not even comparably with Sonakshi Sinha. Yet when he does, however limitedly, there is a deja vu moment. And of course, noisy requests for encore from the faithful. The unbelievable stuff is limited to one stupid fight sequence at the end. Impressive is KS Ravikumar in limiting the crapfest to the very end, and that is one sharp turn from Endhiran, thank god for small mercies.

Rajnikanth's earlier movies used to be known for a fantastical comedy line, with all those paa-paa-paambhu, jalaja jalsaa, saathvikam-prachodhakam-bayaanikham scenes, not necessarily out-of-sync with the main storyline. The comedian used to be a counterfoil (Goundamani in Uzhaippaali, Senthil in Padaiyappa, Vivek in Shivaji) or a challenger-of-sorts (Vadivelu in Muthu and Chandramukhi). While Santhanam tries to reprise the counterfoil role, the comedy in Lingaa is half-baked with Santhanam's presence guaranteed only because he is the numero uno comedy king of Tamland today. Most of the blase dialogues and the context of these comical interludes appear to be a grand misplacement and a waste of time for everyone including Santhanam. Even Vivek in Shivaji appears to have done a far better job than Santhanam's debut in Rajnikanth movies. At close to three hours, the movie is quite slow and boring in phases (especially the British India scenes) and could have helped with at least a 20 minute cut. AR Rahman continues his fare of dishing out somber bores* across the board -- a far cry from his shake-a-thons in Muthu or Padaiyappa or Shivaji or most of his numbers from the early- to mid-90s.

Despite all the negatives highlighted, Lingaa works because it is paisa vasool (despite being 20$ a pop) for a Rajni fan, as simple as that. It is a deja vu movie in how it smoothly ties a Maanik Baasha of days gone-by with a Kaasu-panam-duddu-money-money reality. From the word go, Lingaa Lingaa sounds like Baasha Baasha and that is not meant to be an accident. There are many such un-accidentally constructed parallels/reminiscences into different scenes to appeal to the deja vu generation. In general, it is deja vu for those good old KS Ravikumar and P Vasu days, which were suddenly interrupted by the need-to-be-pseud Shankar days. It is a simple lesson to Rajnikanth in what a post-Shivaji landscape should ideally have been. While those seven years cannot be gotten back, there is still space for a real blast from the past with the next Ravikumar feature that is to start filming soon. That hopefully means that Shivaji may not be the Himalayan peak of a Himalayan career and Lingaa may only be a small way-stop in that journey perhaps. And one also hopes that someone can convey the message to his daughter that she can find someone else for her boring farce. Sorry, business is business and a fraction of the Indian GDP is tied to this machinery!

But more than all that, the deja vu lies in the unabashed theism that used to be Tamland cinema and Tamland at large, before the need-to-be-in-sync-with-the-new-powers-that-be kicked in. The highlight of the movie to me is the slow but well-laid out connect from the credit reel of Rockline Entertainment to the Shiva Thandava Sthothram played playfully somewhere before the one-third stage. With a name like Lingaa, one could nt have gone too wrong in that messaging, I guess. Unlike the Mani-Raavanan combo (the movie I meant) that was straight from hell, this Shankar-Raavanan combo (the sthothram) will always remain an eternal powerful hit! Therein lies the simple lesson of Lingaa on the reality of life: dissing the gods is as much hard work as praising Him!!

* Ok, Mona Gasolina is fine after a few hears, especially nice to see someone like Mano reinvent himself after years. But one cannot ignore the closeness of this song with Nenjukkulle and therein lies the rub, southern style yodelling or chamber music, its all deja vu again.

Revenge of Kochhai-adiyaan

I watched Kochhai-adiyaan (as it is supposed to be spelt in Tam instead of the more fancier but incorrect Kochadaiyaan) and had a lot of impressions on the latest Rajni movie.

The title itself could mean anything from "saint with the shaggy/mangled hair" or "man with the shaggy/mangled truss of hair" depending on how one parses the Tam. In any case, it is a pointer to Shiva just like some of his previous movies have been (Arunachalam, Annamalai, the yet-to-come Lingaa) or to the son of Shiva (Padaiyappa as in Aarupadaiyappan, Muthu), etc. It is an open secret that Rajni has embraced the quintessential Tam god in Murugan as is seen from the character names in most of his movies that are based on Murugan's 108 names. As for the main character's name in this movie, Ranadheeran, if one parses the Tam right, it means "the braveheart who won over pain and suffering."

Semi-spoiler alert!

As someone who grew up with such fare as Mandhirikumari (Linky), Aayiram Thalai Vaangiya Abhoorva Sindhaamani (Linky), Marmayogi (Linky) and as someone who digs into the historical Tamland filmi fare in Black-and-white as well as the later Eastman color, as much as the sociological fun- and farce-fest of the 50s through the 90s, it has been a sad tale that this genre has been essentially wiped out by the lack of imagination, lack of plotlines, lack of enthusiasm for a four-hour potboiler of intrigue, drama, vengeance, and twists and turns from the T20 generation, mismatch in investment between art direction and the grandeur of current day cinematography, etc. And even if dished out in some form these days, Tamland historical fare is an utterly casteist tripe a la Ponnar Shankar. In this midst comes Kochhai-adiyaan, which though it cannot hold a candle to some of the late 40s and 50s fare, is still brilliant in terms of intrigue and suspense in the storyline.

The movie starts a complete dud by insulting a Tamlander's sense of pride in the diction of the language with a rambunctious tripe that will make folks such as SS Rajendran and RS Manohar turn the other side in their graves with immense angst at the state-of-affairs, even in supposedly historical fare. While Rajni himself has no awesome command over the language, it has been his impeccable timing, stylish dialogue delivery, comic sense, and the dialogue construction that has set him apart from his peers. With essentially no comedy in the movie, even with the recreation of a Nagesh character (who sadly is drunk all the time, much like in his younger years in real-life), and with plasticene abundance that denies the possibility of timing and flow, it all looks downhill and hopeless from the beginning.

The dud continues with an introductory scene and song (typically setting a high bar for the Rajni show that follows for the next three hours) that fails to capture a hardcore Rajni fan's cochlear imagination. The sad death of AR Rahman's musical flourish and depth is probably noticeable to many, but every good thing has to come to an end, I guess. As someone who still digs for the underappreciated in Rahman's fare from the early- to mid-90s (Linky 1 and Linky 2, for example), the last few years have been a blur and this movie continues the trend. The height of introductory agony is to watch an abominable plastic Rajni's plastic horse leap over a plastic cliff that is unbelievable even for a Rajni fan who is willing to suspend reality for the sake of Rajni.

Slowly but steadily, the intrigues catch up and we are revealed the tale within a tale within a tale (as much as I could count). And then comes the father-Rajni, walking like we all wished a real Rajni would have done on the stage (and shaming the son-Rajni in the process who walks like an oaf, with no insult meant to to oafs), and setting the floor alight with his unabashed Shivathaandavam dance moves that would have put a Prabhudeva at his prime to shame. If only that plastic Rajni was substituted for a fraction of what we saw in Thillaana-Thillaana (Linky) with a beat like in Kuluvaallille (Linky), both from Muthu, we would have got our 20$ worth for the 3-D picturization that seemed short (two hours), needlessly extravagant and useless to tell the tale that it was.

Despite being simplistic, the Hobson's choice faced by the father-Rajni character is something that I have (surprisingly!) not seen in my as-many-years of watching pot-boiler historical fare. There are two not-so-smooth changes without much explanation in the son-Rajni's character in the movie: from one of a loyal soldier to a loyal soldier of the other party, and a loyal soldier to a man with a burning pain that can only be set right by providing a rightful ending for the villainous character(s). Having seen enough reruns of Murattukk Kaalai and Paayum Puli, I know the difference between the acceptable from the indigestable. When Rajni (the epitome of Tamland values that he has shaped over the last three decades) is made to dance to such abrupt dichotomies like ripping the jugular vein of certain characters and doing a Thevar Magan (even if only as revenge), it becomes too jarring to watch, appreciate, love and remember Rajni by. Any amount of wise Rajni-isms that come out as supposed punch dialogues cannot compensate for that loss in confidence and trust in the supposedly sensible hero who is anything but that. And the punch dialogues fail because they are neither punchy nor dialogue-y.

Many of the characters are hopelessly shoddy with it being difficult to recognize beyond a select few. If there was a Sarath Kumar and a Jackie Shroff, I did nt miss them a beat! A Yamunai aatrile eerakk kaatrile Shobana and her stickler father Chaaruhassan would have rotfl-ed at this current Dasavatharam version!! And a Nayanthara would have saved her blushes for it was Deepika who has to carry the ignominy of plastic degeneracy!!! The basic plotline for this story by KS Ravikumar would have seen far greater justice in his hands than in Rajni's daughter's hands. The KSR-Rajni combo came up with Muthu and Padaiyappa before this, both earth-shattering (at that point in time) revenge tales that had a certain political undertone after the excesses of the 1991-96 JJ regime that came to power in the sympathy wave after RG's assassination. Come 2014, and this movie's TV advertisement rights are with the incumbent party in power, ADMK -- a reflection of why Vishwaroopam went through such turmoil before its release.

Tamland is not yet ready for motion capture nor is the state-of-the-art in motion capture a substitute for real action with real people. As the movie progresses, one gets to understand much of the revenge talk in the movie. The movie's central theme is revenge: revenge of Kottaippattanam on Kalingapuri for its deceit instead of a straight and ethical battle, revenge of the son-Rajni against the father-Rajni's unseemly suffering at the hands of the Kottaippattanam king, unquenched revenge of the friend who pits statecraft over friendship, revenge of the friend who pits friendship over statecraft but only after taking what his due was (unfriendly though it was), revenge of the kings who care pretty much about their own reputation and sustenance over what is right, and so on.

When Sivaji was released in 2007, the heartland of IL was flooded with Rajni fans who all enjoyed themselves to what then was an epic! And not everyone was a Tam!! Fast forward seven years, I have seen a nearly empty Kuselan (again in IL), a nearly empty Robot/Enthiran (in the middle of a raucous Sri Lankan Tam community in Melbourne), and now a nearly empty Kochhai-adiyaan. This story is also a story of revenge that has been served raw and cold: revenge of time where even Rajni ages and cannot dish out his usual fare (dance, fights, style and all things that make Rajni Rajni), revenge of the other daughter (with supposedly good intentions) who ends up hurting the brand and fan-base more than helping it, and revenge of the gods who cannot allow for a Sivaji to be bested for after all, Rajni is Sivaji, Sivaji is MGR and MGR is Sivaji.

Even if I have to wait a la Vishwaroopam II for what the next two hours are supposed to fill in vis-a-vis the knots that have been left untied, it is a sad commentary that I am looking forward more to Vishwaroopam II than to Kochhai-adiyaan II. On to Lingaa, and just like with the hockey team that disappoints me over the years, I shall lose no hope.

To death with hope!
For man can die, but hope cannot,
For Rajni can blunder, but his legacy cannot,
For kamal can wonder, Rajni he is not!

Getting rustic again...

Sometimes one has to take a break, sometimes one has to brake the break, sometimes one has to call it quits. Let us say that I am in the second stage. Getting to write again something seriously requires a silly one to begin with.

And since I have seen a few Tamland movies of late, why not do a semi-surgical examination of this type of claptrap? Why not? Also, this type of topic goes well with the coming Tamil new year.

I have seen two types ("types" would be a big word given that every movie is a type of its own, but I mean it in a half-silly way) of movies in Tamland these days: the village type theme or a retro theme as in the 70s and 80s, when things were more village-ish even in the Madras side. This type of movie is rife with caste, violence, luv, family H&D tales, people who use red hot chilli peppers for brushing their teeth and ergo get affronted at the drop of a hat, drip vengeance in every ounce of blood, and so on. The comedy is more typically rustic: there is the usual belly farting jokes, there is also the usual schaedenfreud-ish jokes where one guy gets hurt and everyone except that guy (and may be even that guy) laughs. There is the dripping sarcasm that typifies Tamland films and especially so certain pockets of Tamland where sarcasm is better than in Madras. Of course, comedy has to be situational, else it will stand out like a sore thumb. Then, there is the violence and gore as a recurring leitmotif. Overarching both comedy and violence, there is dirt and grime. There are things that are not so polished and is often uncouth, something that will put off the urban side or will be in sync with the rustic side of the urban polity. Since many of us grew up in dirt and grime (in my case, the late half of the 80s and the wrong half of the 90s in a typical non-agraharamish South Madras neighborhood), it is what is in sync with our growing-up days.

And then there are the polished movies, more urban tales, it-vity tales, Gen Y tales, college-goer setpieces, growing-up stories and other nutty pieces of crap. The pseud factor in most of these movies is high. One needs a typical Siddharth or an Arya or Vijay to fit into these movies. Here, the comedy is more of the typical Madrasi fare, often with a sidekick meant specifically to dish out comedy. While I do not discount the fact that a sidekick comedian's role is a tough one, they are just that, a sidekick. Like, for example, a "nanben da" Santhanam or a "Kaipulla" or a "theeppori thirumugam" Vadivelu or a "Chaari-Sorry saar" Vivek or sometimes even a Vijay. This comedy is typified by crap talk, petty talk, tall talk, and of course, the two distinguishing features: peter-talk and paruppu-talk (aka pseud-ish Madras-giri and its Tamland cousin). There is the usual dripping sarcasm + social message based comedy that has always found a refuge in Tamland films. There is also a tale, which is usually a masala, but sometimes really a tale. 

The first type of movie appeals to the rustic side of Tamlanders, who apparently seem to be more common than I expected them to be. It appeals to people who don't want to go back to rustic Tamland, but want to see it in the movie and reminisce the good old days. Those who want to bring out their inner rusticism to life, even if it is just for a three hour period. The second type of movie appeals to the urban side of Tamland. This set seems pretty small relatively, but that is pretty much what everyone wants to imitate. Newly minted Madras-bhashai becomes a massive hit overnight. Even jargon and pet-themes that were popular in certain colleges and in certain pockets become overnight famous everywhere. I mean such universal jargon/terms such as dhommai, dubooku, dokku, mokkai, koomuttai, devaangu, nngoyyale**, etc., have become the lingua franca of the angry and sometimes the happy-drunk Madrasi. And when the auto guy in Madras uses it, one knows that everyone uses it. Of course the auto guy uses it in anger or pain or for livelihood reasons, many use it for comic relief and because, sarcasm thy name is Tamland. 

And then there is an unsaid third type (you should have expected that by now, knowing me very well). In this type, there is a bridge between the first and the second type of movie. The amount of bridging makes the movie appeal to an even broader audience than normal. Some of the better hit movies have something appealing to everyone. There is a rustic element either in the form of the protagonist who acts punch-drunk (Soodhu kavvum, Rummy, Varuthapadaatha vaalibar sangham) or sidekicks who take you back to those parts of life that you never want to see again (Yuddham sei, Aadukalam). And then there is the pseud element (Theeya velai seyyanum kumaaru, Raja rani, Maattraan, Aarambham). Or often both.

There are people who seem to have type-casted themselves in one type of role. For example, it is hard to expect a Vijay Sethupathi or a Sivakarthikeyan to don a pseud role. Typical of the upward mobility that has been Tamland film-dom, it is still hard to expect either of them to land such a role given how status quo is loved in the film world in general. On the other hand, it is hard to expect an Ajith or a Siddharth or a Madhavan to do anything but pseud roles. Vijay of course is the eternal college-goer, much like how Vikram or Surya is the eternal cop and how Vijayakanth dons double duty as a cop and a Maxwell's equations-defying transformer-buster. Speaking of transformers, transformation in roles do happen... A Parattai could become a Paayum puli, a Sappaani could become a Sagalakala vallavan. Sometimes, they start off as a Sakthivel who becomes Chinna thevar by the middle of the movie. and Thevar magan by the end. Managing that transformation (both real as well as in the minds of people) is more of an art than a science. Now that folks like Sivakarthikeyan and Vijay Sethupathi have established themselves as bankable stars with serial hits and mega-hits, it is a 1001$ puzzle whether they can become versatile Rajnikanths, let alone a less overacting hundred-role-toting kamalahassans.. 

That transformation, if it does happen, will be a further commentary on the state-of-affairs as much is everything else that happens in Tamland filmdom. Till then, rejoice the fact that: The masala as we knew it is dead, Long live the masala.


** nngoyyale... I love that word because Tam grammar cannot take a word that starts with a half-sound and here we have a word that is so-unTamil and yet so popular. By its very existence, it has defied the Tamland grammarians who can all throw a sword at you with their half-aruvaal moustaches (Ma. po. si., anyone?!) and burn down the house if they so wish (Nakkeeran types, not the new one but the old one). In a way, this very "word" means nothing if you look at the sky and exclaim, something if you look askance and deliver, and everything if you look at someone and mutter it. It has become the quintessential onomatopoeia of new age-Tam. It is the alpha and omega of cusswords. You could start a sentence with nngoyyale as in "nngoyyale, sollittu vandhuttiya," or end a sentence with it as in "vandhuttaan da, nngoyyale," or just have that alone in a sentence "nngoyyale". It could be added as a prefix or a suffix to many things as in "adinngoyyale." It could be used by women in buses when oldies harass them with their age-defying stomach-churning kasamusa aka gilmaa aka jalpaans aka any series of finely-tuned sounds that is intended to mean that. It could be used by school kids playing cricket on the street against anyone who acts cocky with them including class teachers, but of course under the radar. It could be used by college kids on rival gangs or policekaarans (or policekaarars or policekars depending on who you are) who ask them to "take the 20" for going without license or RC book or insurance or road tax documents. It could be used to mean "teri maaki" without*** actually saying it in so many words. It could be a snide "I am pissed with you" type claptrap too. It could well be a filler. It could be whatever you want it to be... or whatever not... its dirty and beautiful.. its a sociologist's delight and a grammarian's kryptonite... its one man's tool and another man's cool...

*** Even though etymologically, nngoyyale comes from a Tamland version of teri maaki, it has now become a guruvai minjina sishyan. It is a word of its own, in a class of its own, with a purpose of its own.