IN THE SOUTH OF MADNESS
A kitschy spoof of Tamil Westerns has big laughs and one small problem: even at an hour-and-a-half, it overstays its welcome. Plus, a dark comedy that’s better than you expect.
AUG 30, 2009 – AFTER A SCREENING OF SHASHANKA GHOSH’S Quick Gun Murugun, I ran into a former colleague who’s now a television reporter – and she wanted what she called a “byte.” She wanted to know if there was anything in the film that was hurtful to Tamilians. “Absolutely not,” I assured her, and walked away – but an instant later, I wondered if I shouldn’t have turned back and made a few politically correct noises, especially in the aftermath of the Kaminey controversy, wherein a decades-old reference to masturbation was interpreted as a brand-new insult to Lord Jagannath. Have we really become such a prickly, sensitive lot that the merest attempt at a joke (affectionate or otherwise) makes us break out in a rash? Whatever next? Will the Marwari seths of Chennai demand to be recompensed for the way their staccato speech was ridiculed in the Tamil films of a certain era? Will the Sardars follow suit, frothing at the mouth at being reduced, by Bollywood, to shoulder-shaking “balle balle” stereotypes?
Quick Gun Murugun will no doubt set a few tempers aflare – but the audience I was with, thankfully, appeared genuinely tickled (a lot more than I was, I admit). Early evidence that the director had a screw amiably loose was strewn throughout his Waisa Bhi Hota Hai: Part II, especially when a boisterous bunch of Sardars attempts to overtake a car driven by a timid Parsi. The latter, for no apparent reason, acquires an unhealthy amount of up-yours attitude – he sticks his hand out and flips his pursuers the bird. In absurdly disproportionate response, a Sardar pulls out a machine gun and begins firing away, at which the Parsi chucks away his newfound courage and flounders into a ditch. It was a hilarious bit of anything-goes nonsense.
Quick Gun Murugun is stuffed to its gills with this spirit of anything-goes nonsense. Where Ghosh earlier aimed his pointed (but never poisonous) darts at the Parsi and the Sardar, he now targets the Tamil masala film hero, embodied in the endearingly ludicrous person of the eponymous “South Indian cowboy.” The small problem, however, is that what was funny as a throwaway bit in the earlier film gets quickly wearying when stretched to feature length. After about a half-hour of laughing at the loud clothes and the ridiculous names (Rice Plate Reddy and Mango Dolly and, in particular, the Molagapodi Boys; the gamely hammy cast includes Dr. Rajendra Prasad, Nasser, Rambha and Raju Sundaram) and the priceless accents delivering “punch” dialogues that are even more priceless, you begin to wonder, “Is that all, or is there going to be anything else?”
The plot, so to speak, revolves around the efforts of the villain to get his grubby hands on the recipe for the best mother-made dosa ever – it sounds a lot funnier than it plays out – and the feel that Ghosh is going for appears to be the sambar Western (say, the Jaishankar starrers directed by the Tamil cinematographer Karnan, or Rajinikanth’s Thaai Meedhu Sathiyam) as filtered through the trippy stylistics of Woody Allen’s What’s Up, Tiger Lily?, where an innocuous Japanese spy thriller was rendered ridiculous through hysterically off-kilter (dubbed) English dialogue. (The latter film was even about the quest for the most perfect egg salad recipe – go figure!) Ghosh follows Allen’s template faithfully by having most of his dialogues in Tamil and subtitling them with the appropriate amount of absurdness.
Several of these lines are sidesplitting, as are many of Ghosh’s choices. He gets silly with the background score. (Happy Birthday plays whenever the villain is about to move in for a kill, plus I thought I heard the opening bars of Für Elise during a seduction scene.) He stages elaborate instances of wordplay. (A wife who, in a former life, devoutly performed karwa chauth is reborn as a praying mantis, a creature that devours its mate. I think we’re meant to complete the joke in our heads – she used to pray for her spouse; now she preys on him.) He recreates, amusingly, popular movie clichés like the heroine tearing off an item of her clothing to bandage the wounded hero. He even takes a wicked swipe at the Big B, who’ll apparently endorse any product that comes his way. And yet, after a while, it becomes awfully hard to shake off the feeling that you think you’re enjoying this comedy more than you actually are.
Tamil audiences, however, are likely to have themselves a lot more fun. It’s not just the pitch-perfect reproduction of the cherished traditions of Tamil cinema – the “minor chain” on the villain’s neck, or the anni (riotously subtitled “elder sister-in-law”) whose sole function is to flash indulgent smiles. It’s also the South Indian hero’s refusal to kill the North Indian villain before educating the latter about the intricacies of the Tamil letter “zha,” as also the subtitles that are doubly hilarious when you remember the original lines from a hundred older Tamil films. (“Is she an ancestral property of your father?) What thrilled me most was the inclusion of an old TM Soundararajan number from Sivaji Ganesan’s Neela Vaanam. “Oh little flower, see your lover,” it goes, and it’s a small stroke of genius to have included this instance of a “pop” song that, like the films spoofed here, must once have seemed oh-so-cool but is so laughably dated today. What, though, will a non-Tamil audience make of all this?
ONE OF THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN the Hollywood comedy and the Bollywood kind (exemplified by, say, Govinda and David Dhawan) is that the latter is typically a loose collection of set pieces while the former has the well-oiled sheen of a professional product. The scenes segue neatly into one another, the actors have graphs you care about, and there’s almost always a setup in the first act (in this case, a eulogy at a patriarch’s funeral, which explodes into chaos) that finds a payoff in the third. This difference is on display in K Murali Mohan Rao’s Daddy Cool, an “official” remake of Death at a Funeral, which is much better than what the cast (Suniel Shetty, Aftab Shivdasani, Jaaved Jaffery) leads you to expect. I’m very partial to scatological humour, so my inner 12-year-old split his sides at a poop joke involving Prem Chopra, but I was also pleasantly surprised that Tulip Joshi managed an empathetic performance that elevates her amidst this ensemble. Movies, sometimes, surprise you in the strangest ways.
Copyright ©2009 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Vijay
August 29, 2009
That’s exactly what my thought was about Quick Gun Murugan when I saw the promos. who was his target audience? How will spoof of South films work for the Hindi audience?
I guess he probably wanted to escape the wrath of the sensitive South stars and their fans by not making this exclusively in Tamil
But I must say, just looking at the sneak previews, that Rambha came off as a great choice as the dumb blonde 🙂 why Mango Dolly? Something to do with Dolly Parton? I will have to watch this soon.
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B.H.Harsh
August 29, 2009
Shocked beyond belief to see you liking Daddy Cool!
Did you actually laugh in any scene ?? :O
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Tejas
August 29, 2009
Wow!! Did you like Buddha Mar Gaya? Cause I did, and then Daddy Cool might be just what the doctor ordered! 😉
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anush
August 30, 2009
just watched the movie in Mumbai , all my friends are from North-India , since surprisingly the multiplex nearby had only the English version we went for it. Im sure they missed a lot of things since they didnt know Tamil , thts kinda sad … did my best to provide additional nuggets of info in between.
Ironically this is a great watch for tamilians actually inspite of it being some kind of spoof on them !
Nice to see such movies getting so much attention and publicity and such a wide release as well.
Loved the entire cast , Raju Sundaram’s character was my favourite !
Btw totally agree with you the movie had stuff only for 50-60 mins solid entertainment , but despite its short 90 min length there were lot of times when it was going nowhere and pace slackened.
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rks
August 30, 2009
Thanks for your reviews. I think you missed the better movie in “Yeh mera India”. It is simplistic in execution and with some cliches, but it has very strong emotional connect. The story has good flow and cohesive till end.
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shamoni8
August 30, 2009
Tulip was the hottest thing in that movie. i didn’t see it, but don’t plan to, either.
lol at scat joke. dude, gross.
is that lola kutty in the first movie?
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Sridhar Ramanathan
August 30, 2009
Baddy, Saw QGM and really did have a ball. I thought it was the right length and the English translations were too good! My personal favorite was “Hitting at the Back and applying Calcium” or something like that. We never have a chance to laugh at ourselves and I thought this movie was a great attempt. Especially the length was just right. They could have screwed it up big time like the other “Muruga” movie. Glad they did not!
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brangan
August 30, 2009
Tejas: Didn’t catch that one. But if bad-taste black comedy is your thing, I suggest you give this one a try (preferably in the safety of your home).
rks: “Yeh Mera India” wasn’t released here.
shamoni8: Yes. That’s Anu Menon.
Dharu: So what are your thoughts about that *other* Muruga movie? Do share 🙂
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The Normal Guy
August 30, 2009
brangan : “but the audience I was with, thankfully, appeared genuinely tickled (a lot more than I was, I admit)”.
I have seen this sentence of yours in different forms esp. on the reviews of movies such as Shortkut,Jai veeru,PG, Kambhakt Ishq etc..
Whats your take on the sense of humour of the audiences in theatres?
While watching QGM,there was a guy sitting behind me who was laughing so loudly, unnaturally and way longer than the joke’s intended shelf-life that only his sense of purpose was to proclaim ‘I get the joke!”I have watched Terminator and now I have to announce that I understood the reference!”I noticed the ‘Institute of Tree climbing’ banner and now let me make sure everyone has!’
In Kaminey,there were groups of people who were repeating the lisped words throughout as if that was the only point of the movie.They continued this act of repeating the fa-words even during the intense climax scenes to constantly reassure themselves and their peers that the movie is working for them.
Does more people laughing mean that the joke works? Is the audience reception of the joke a good enough criteria for ascertaining its quality? Then, Akshay kumar’s diaper gags and wannabe slapstick comedy will go on forever, because people will keep laughing because they think they are supposed to.
I understand that different people react to different humour differently.I have no problem when a group of villagers on a town bus laugh their asses off on a bad Vadivelu joke on a town bus they have never seen it before.I am just annoyed when the theater goers laugh at the ‘bad’ jokes dishonestly or as an act of conformity.This creates the illusion that there are takers for this brand of humour,thereby paving the way for more similar movies.
It makes me willingly accept the existence of ‘classes’ and ‘masses’.In Tamil Cinema,masses are the front benchers.In Bollywood,its the people sitting in the Gold Class.
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Shankar
August 30, 2009
“Have we really become such a prickly, sensitive lot “…haven’t we always been like that? Remember all the protests over movie names (Sandiyar etc) as though politicians had nothing better to do? All the protests to ban films (Slumdog, City of Joy etc) for various reasons?
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shanth
August 31, 2009
“And yet, after a while, it becomes awfully hard to shake off the feeling that you think you’re enjoying this comedy more than you actually are.”
Aha! Just the feeling I had. Especially the second half when the “jokes” got repetitive for me.
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brangan
August 31, 2009
The Normal Guy: But how does one know if the guy to the left of you in the theatre is *really* buying into the joke or if he’s just faking it to appear cool? Tough one, no? 🙂 I’m not big on the Akshay Kumar kind of comedy myself, but I’m sure there are others that are. How can we be churlish enough to grudge them their jollies?
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a
August 31, 2009
would love to make a film on audiences watching a film.Something like “seven minutes of silence” where the pianist(forget his name) comes on stage and remains frozen at the piano-the composition records the adudiences reaction.
Love to wtach films in Chennai multiplexes because the intensity of reaction carries you away.For “Kannathil muthamiital”, my neighbour was sobbing at the scene where the adoption is revealed, while we were grimacing at the whole running around papa on teh beach confessional scene…so one seat,cynical laughter…the other tears…
ahhh…the power of cinema!
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KPV Balaji
August 31, 2009
Loved the dialogue delivery..from prasad… mulagai podi boys was hilarious. ..as you mention wonder what would bollywood make of this.. it would be more enjoyable for the tamil audience.. it gave me a feel of watching lollu sabha on big screen… 🙂
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The Normal Guy
August 31, 2009
brangan : I was talking about the guy sitting behind me not to the left of me. In fact,there was no one sitting to my left as I had a aisle seat (if you exclude the ticket checker with a flashlight that is).
I know my rant came across a rude attempt to judge people and seek solace in an ‘us vs them’ bubble.But,it was not intended to be that way.
In fact,I based it on your sentence “there’s always a of law of inverse proportionality at work, which dictates that the more the public adores it, the more I have to resist the impulse to find a quiet corner and blow my brains out.” and its different versions we have seen in the reviews of certain Hindi movies.
I was just demanding an explanation for that and was expecting it to grow into a take on the audience reactions in the movies today.
Come on! talk me I say! 😀
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brangan
September 1, 2009
The Normal Guy: No, but my point is that there’s no way to know if audience reaction is real. When I go to an Akshay Kumar film (one of those comedy-types), I know it’s not my kind of film, but I also know I’m in the minority. There are tons of people who *like* this sort of thing. How can we judge them on the basis of personal taste? They could very well turn back and point a finger at me and say I’m a snob who doesn’t know how to have fun, no? 🙂
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Pradyumna M
September 1, 2009
Off topic : Chiggy-Wiggy from Blue just doesn’t sound like an A.R. Rahman track at all!
Btw,any views on the Wake up Sid and What’s your Rashee albums..?
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B.H.Harsh
September 2, 2009
I second Pradyumna on that! Chiggy Wiggy is so unlike Rahman… even if he has decided to go masses’ way.
And even I would love to hear your opinion about the soundtracks of Wake up Sid and/or Whats Your Raashee.
Hope you pay heed to my request for once.. 🙂
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brangan
September 2, 2009
Pradyumna M / B.H.Harsh: Really enjoyed “Wake Up Sid.” S-E-L, even when they’re coasting on semi-autopilot, still do a very good job. One of my big grouses is that their “Tere naina” was so criminally overlooked (because CC2C bombed). What a gorgeous Hamsadhwani-based number. Their ambient-sound texturing and the gradual graph of the melody line (the way they shape the segues) is the best in the business, I feel. (Of course, this may make their songs sound more “conventional” than a Rahman’s, but I’m a sucker for old-fashioned melody lines.) Haven’t heard “What’s Your Rashee”. And I didn’t even know Rahman had a track out. Thanks for the info 🙂
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brangan
September 2, 2009
KPV Balaji: Was it you who kept asking for my “Hey Ram” review? I can’t seem to find it. But I did find what I wrote about “Aalavandaan” 🙂
As an aside, this review makes me wince. What godawful sentences, right out of the review-cliche handbook. “I would be hard-pressed to name…” And “The editing too doesn’t hold the film in thrall…” And in particular, “Art director Sameer Chanda has outdone himself…” Outdone? Seriously? What the fuck was I thinking? 🙂
Even the structure of the review is embarrassing when I read it now — discussing the movie, element by element. Acting, then music…
Anyway, I *was* like that wonly. Mind it 🙂
AALAVANDAAN (TAMIL) (Nov 24, 2001)
The Plot: Major Vijay Kumar (Kamal Haasan) is all set to marry Tejaswini (Raveena Tandon), his newsreader girlfriend. The couple breaks this news to Vijay’s twin brother Nandu, a psychopath locked away in an asylum. For reasons that become clearer later, Nandu is convinced that it’s his duty to kill Tejaswini and save his brother. He escapes and creates havoc for the couple, also managing some time on the side to dally with skittish actress Sharmilee (Manisha Koirala).
The Review: A spinning coin carves out the name ‘Aalavandaan’ in the titles. You think it’s just another showy gimmick in these days of computer graphics-laden title sequences.
A four-note musical motif features prominently in the ‘Kadavul Paadhi Mirugam Paadhi’ number sung by Nandu. You think it’s just a catchy tune.
When Nandu takes drugs, the world around him turns into an animated cartoon. You think this is just a look-how-cool-this-film-is stunt.
But nothing in ‘Aalavandaan’ is quite what you think it is.
The title segment is actually a reference to there being two sides to a coin, the good and the bad, personified by Vijay and Nandu. This dichotomy is taken even further with the tattoo ofentwined serpents on Nandu’s arm, implying that the good and the bad are joined at the hip.
The four-note musical motif turns up again, rendered with heavy orchestration, in a hallucinatory dance featuring Nandu and Sharmilee. The same notes are heard later in a telephone number that Nandu dials. Finally it’s revealed that this is the tune of the lullaby sung by Nandu’s mother.
The animation is primarily to soften the graphic nature of Nandu’s violent acts. But there’s more. As he slips between flashes of lucidity and hallucination, the scenes switch back and forth between real life and animation because he associates violence with the cartoons he watched as a kid, with a massive blow-up of a comic superhero in his bedroom.
That’s ‘Aalavandaan’ for you, a cornucopia of riddles and teases masquerading as an action thriller. The hidden associations and subtext behind each and every occurrence in Kamal Haasan’s screenplay could fill a doctoral thesis.
But does ‘Aalavandaan’ deliver as three hours of entertainment? Well, yes and no.
I would be hard-pressed to name a contemporary commercial film in recent times whose screenplay brimmed with this much intelligence and creativity. In a scene, Nandu uses a victim’s blood to paint his trademark outline of a face on a piece of glass. When he sees his reflection in the glass, the eyes and mouth made of blood seem imprinted on his own face. Later, the same happens to Vijay, who’s actually the good guy. What a brilliant visual way to highlight the doppelganger concept, the fact that their destinies are intertwined!
Small wonder then that Tejaswini denounces both as killers in their own way, Nandu due to his inner demons and Vijay due to his being in the armed forces. Another abstract Freudian idea that haunts both brothers is that of doors. At different points, both are in places with multiple doors that seem to imply their frustration with the numerous options in their lives.
Remember the scene in ‘Saving Private Ryan’ in which the soldiers use chewing gum to attach a shard of glass to a knife and look behind them? That’s been reproduced here, but what Kamal does with it is interesting. Vijay uses his dagger to pull out the gum and put it back in his mouth, which gives some extra macho mythology to the man.
The romantic scenes between Vijay and Tejaswini are electric in their mischief, in their
nonchalant acceptance of notions like premarital sex. There’s no romance happening with the other pair, Nandu and Sharmilee, but conceptually their scenes are astounding, like the one in which herposter comes to life. Another terrific conceit is that of Nandu’s personification of the voices in his head as his mother.
But the screenplay also brims with excess. Every single idea that crossed Kamal’s head seems to have found its way into the writing. As if all the abstractions weren’t enough, we have a hint of voodoo here, a suggestion of necrophilia there. Director Suresh Krissna appears to have done verylittle shaping of the film. It’s as if what was on page is now on screen, with sometimes scant regard for whether things actually fit in with the rest of the film.
The editing too doesn’t hold the film in thrall. There seem to be continuity gaps, and the segues in the free-flowing hallucinatory sequences aren’t as clean as they were in ‘Hey Ram’. Which leads to the irony that for a film with so much novelty, the most gripping parts are the hoariest of cinema staples like the chases and the flashback (which explains the roots of Nandu’s dysfunction, thanks to his stepmother, interestingly played by Kitu Gidwani).
The technology in ‘Aalavandaan’ is quite amazing. The beautifully-rendered animation, looking like Japanese anime crossed with the Roadrunner style, brilliantly brings to life the unstable world of Nandu. The non-animated scenes too look spectacular, thanks to cinematographer Tirru and the special effects team, who work so well together that it really looks like there were two Kamals fighting each other in the climax. The flashback, in particular, is exquisitely done with backgrounds and characters morphing into the past and present. Art director Sameer Chanda has outdone himself in these sequences.
But the same technology that can beautifully simulate a wipe with water flowing over the windshield of a car becomes tiresome if used recklessly. And by the time you see images of the stepmother pop up repeatedly amidst LPG cylinders in the climax, you do think that things have run a bit amuck.
The acting by the supporting cast is competent. Raveena adds welcome hints of sauciness to a standard heroine’s role, thanks to Kamal’s relatively offbeat conception of her character. Manisha sparkles in a playful cameo. And Kamal does a superb job as Vijay, be it doing a burlesque of sorts in the ‘Siri Siri’ song, pretending to be shy in a love banter, asking Raveena to listen to him when she’s supporting Nandu, or even appearing hopelessly overprotected (with armour and helmet) in the final encounter in comparison to the barechested Nandu.
But as Nandu, Kamal’s bag of acting tics appears old by now. Though the performance is solid, the excitement is missing. You expect him to reach in and pull out something new but the innovation is mostly in the makeup and his incredibly buffed-up body and bald head. But you have to admit that by the end, tattoos and all, Kamal looks truly terrifying.
The music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy is refreshingly different. You really get a sense of Nandu’s over-the-top nature with the bizarre themes they have created. The songs have also been picturized very well, especially Nandu’s dance with a flying poster.
But the background score by Mahesh fails to bring the required tension, mood and flow to key scenes like Nandu’s delusional wandering in a mall. This adds to the jerky feeling in the first half, where the emphasis is more on activity without much dialogue.
Again, that’s ‘Aalavandaan’ for you. For everything positive about the film, there is an
associated ‘but’, making you feel that the two-sides-to-a-coin analogy applies to Kamal himself. While no one can deny his prodigious talent and cinematic vision, one also wishes that he had a strong director who could outshout his tendencies to stray and keep adding to a film that is already quite full of ideas to begin with.
The result is a film which is the visual equivalent of diamonds scattered in the rough. For all its magnificent parts, ‘Aalavandaan’ never adds up as a whole.
When ‘Aalavandaan’ is good, it’s extraordinarily good, which makes it all the more frustrating to endure its follies. But you should get out and watch it, if only to see our cinema being taken out for a glorious, if bumpy, ride on roads heretofore never travelled.
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The Normal Guy
September 3, 2009
@brangan : Whats wrong with the usage of “outdone”? Enlighten us.
The vocal line for “Tere Naina” sounds like the first few notes of the guitar intro to “Vellai Pookal”.Not that its a copy or anything.Just a funny coincidence.
Thanks to your Aalavandhan review, I recalled that nice lil’ scene when the grown-up Nandu visits his childhood home and salutes the Phantom poster along with that bearded loon Dhanushkunj or whatever.For all its merits I wonder why it bombed the way it did.
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Vijay
September 3, 2009
BR, interesting to see how your review has evolved . Have you ever thought about it yourself, as to how your style has changed over the years? It would be interesting to go back and read more of your old reviews. The “embarrassing” structure you talk about in your Aalavandhan review is what 90% of the other reviewers follow 🙂
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Pradyumna M
September 3, 2009
I happened to listen to Tere Naina on a radio a couple of days back and was wondering which movie it was from.The fact that the song cut short in the movie was kinda pissing off..
Btw,Can you dig up Kabhi alvida na Kehna review.. For some reason I am unable to find it in your archives.
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vijay
September 3, 2009
Aalavandhan bombed because it sucked. “outdone” is cliched usage is what I think BR means. Hmm..what looks avant-garde now could look amateurish 10 yrs from now 🙂
Talking of conventional melodies with intricate phrases in this era nobody did it better than Vidyasagar, especially his output between 97-07. I wish he whipped himself back to form. Nothing much to relish after “kaatrin Mozhi”. I guess he is shell-shocked after listening to Hair-is-Jayaraj’s maladies 🙂
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brangan
September 3, 2009
The Normal Guy: Oh, nothing wrong with the word itself. But the phrase is a lazy cliche that means nothing. “Outdone himself” — compared to what? which other films has he done stellar work in that he’s outdone himself now? Today, I’d write something more specific, and more evocative of *how* this worked in the context of the film.
Vijay: But that’s true of anyone, no? The more you write/paint/sing, the better you get. And when I say “better,” I mean you develop a voice, a style, you become better at recognising the points in the film that you want to talk about (as opposed to trying to list out all the pluses and minuses, say). Maybe five years from now, if I’m still writing reviews, I’ll look back at my present pieces and feel embarrassed.
One thing though. When I finish a review, I’m always unhappy with it. I’m never sure how well it’s come out, both in terms of the writing style as well as the content. I usually need a lot of distance to make a call on whether I was able to do what I set out to do. The other day, for instance, I re-read my “Aag” review, and was very happy with it. On the other hand, I got a lot of praise for my supposedly funny take on Kal Kissne Dekha,” but I read it again a while ago and I couldn’t stand it. I wonder if that’s the case with other writers too — the distance-effect, I mean.
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brangan
September 3, 2009
Pradyumna: It was in the older site. Here.
vijay: Yes, Vidyasagar. “Ding dong kovil mani” is a beauty. (I wish it didn’t have the words “ding dong though). But “kaatrin mozhi?” The opening lines are truly beautiful, but once the tabla-backing gets going, I didn’t care much for the song. Maybe the movie’s effect? 😉
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raj
September 3, 2009
Oh how I wish baradwaj goes back to his carefree days of aalavandhan ereview, and enjoys the writing process rather than bringing in heacvy duty thinking and laboured sentences 🙂
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brangan
September 3, 2009
raj: good one, i’ll give you that 🙂
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KPV Balaji
September 4, 2009
BR: I had actually given up hope on the hey ram review 😦 , but now reading this alavandhan piece have re ignited my faith in you :). so still waiting. As much as the review format has changed and evolved another thing i notice is that the kamal fan in you seem to have taken a back seat when you review his movies. Anyways thanks a bunch for this piece :). Btw whats your initial take on this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZy04B9jSm0
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Sagarika
September 4, 2009
Rebirth of the “Hot” is more like it. Given the number of times I find myself being flung from the frying pan into the fire lately, I have little doubts that I’m Dante, re-born!
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brangan
September 5, 2009
KPV Balaji: As I said earlier, this is not a film I’m especially looking forward to. (I’ll see it, of course.) It interests me solely on the level of how a very Mumbai-centric film will be adapted for a culture that does not exist with the daily terror of bomb blasts. I’m also interested in seeing how Kamal will play it — as a “hero,” thus lending possibly new shades to the vigilante, or if he’ll stick to Naseer’s template, the quietly simmering victim who’s had enough.
About the trailer itself, I’m very impressed. Unlike Bollywood, where the trailers for the big films are “thematically” cut by professional outfits, the trailers here are slapdash collections of scenes and “punch highlights.” This one gives an excellent feel of the style of the film, the content… Good stuff.
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vijay
September 5, 2009
BR, was just talking about the melody lines. I thought it was consistently good throughout the song. No one does singer’s melodies these days. Vidhyasagar, at his best, was an exception. The piano pieces in that song, played by Stephen Devassy, were good too I thought. Another impressive song was Mouname paarvaiyal which was edited out of Anbe Sivam’s movie soundtrack.Even for a pathetic Vijay movie like Thirumalai he came up with Azhagooril Poothavale with SPB relishing every bit of it.
Kamal is on record saying that UO wont be quite like A wednesday. We’ll see. I am still disappointed that Kamal who supposedly writes down ideas all the time even during shoot-breaks has to borrow concepts, even for a quickie project like this. I thought he did that only for comedies.
But this is remake season I guess. I am already dreading Don 2 and the Billa-2 it would lead to.
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vijay
September 5, 2009
Also from the trailer of UO, looks like it has a good chance of matching the kind of Kamal performance you liked in VV- the coolness charm guy 🙂
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Vijay
September 5, 2009
Call it a bigtime coincidence. Just today SPB invites Vidyasagar to the Finals of ennodu paattu paadumgaL in Jaya TV and they both end up singing Kaatrin Mozhi and discussing the unpredictable detours the melody takes. SPB started off singing charanam of Bharathi kannamma in Ninaithaale Inikkum and then quietly segued into Kaatrin Mozhi, being the rascal he is 🙂
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brangan
September 6, 2009
vijay: What I was saying about Vidyasagar is that, at his best, he combines the best aspects of the Raja era and the Rahman era. Strong melody lines, a genuine interest in orchestration, the ability to use artificial sounds (Synth and so on) in an organic way…
Oh, “Azhagooril Poothavale” is a gorgeous song. With SPB, it’s amazing how his voice keeps getting better with age (as opposed to, say, Yesudas). One of the great pleasures of growing up with Raja is to have experienced these two singers in so many of their greatest songs. In contrast, I feel we’ve never had any great female singers after Sushila. Swarnalatha is the only one I’ve liked subsequently. (And of course Shreya Ghoshal.)
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Rk
September 7, 2009
What is Kaminey controversy ?
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brangan
September 8, 2009
Rk: This one.
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Ramsu
September 25, 2009
I agree with the Woody Allen reference: the one that came to my mind was Take the Money and Run, a movie that I found amazingly funny when a friend narrated it to me but not so funny when I actually watched it. QGM is a bit like that. It’s just a little too low-key than it needs to be.
Oh, and that background score you heard in the seduction scene? Moonlight Sonata, I think, not Fur Elise.
Ghosh seems to be a big fan of filmmakers with a slightly quirky sense of humor — I remember being quite taken by the “Acknowledgements” section in the end credits of his previous movie, which features names like q. tarantino, j. coen, e. coen etc. Given how this one opens with a reference to Tarantino’s Kill Bill, I actually expected a similar screen this time around as well. Sadly, he seems to have dropped the habit.
~ramsu
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Tina
June 1, 2015
This is weird. I watched Aalavandhaan today and googled to see if your reviewed it and landed here. Everyone (including yourself) seems to be of the opinion that your style has changed. I am amazed at how much it hasn’t changed. When it comes to a movie working in ‘parts’, but not in total, you seem to be the king! Like there is (and hasn’t ever been ) a ‘no I rate this 3 star’ or ‘yes, this is good’ kind of a comment. Every scene seems to be evaluated on it’s own merit.
Really cool.
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