Scenes that have nothing to do with the plot are sometimes there for a reason. Differently put, the best way to get from A to B isn’t necessarily a straight line.
The Tamil filmmaker Mahendran’s Pootadha Pootukkal is the story of a young, childless couple, and the wife, once convinced that her husband cannot give her a child, embarks on some sort of affair with a newcomer to their village. After some developments, she runs away, and the husband’s friends hand him a sum of money to search for her. While on a boat, the husband falls into a fight, and the money, bundled up in cloth, falls into the water. Given his impoverishment, along with the source of this money (the sum was painstakingly saved for an operation that would restore sight to the vision-impaired friend), we are shocked. The next scene, we assume, is going to revolve around this lost money. Maybe the friend will burst out in anger about the sacrifice that has turned out to be in vain. Maybe the husband will resolve to stop looking for his wife and reorient his life towards repaying the money.
But nothing happens. The fight ends. The plot resumes its focus on the missing wife. The money – whose disappearance could have resulted in guilt or anger or any number of opportunities for histrionic high marks – is never referred to again. A startling plot point is seeded, but we don’t watch it sprout. A mistake? I don’t think so. Not everything in a story needs to be spelt out – and the dramatic tension, in this instance, comes not from the events on screen (which we are denied) but from our off-screen reaction, our puzzlement, our frustration, our reluctant acceptance of the situation, our eventual moving on. This may not be the commercial (or mainstream) way to go about telling a story – and the film was a notorious bomb when it was released, for Mahendran was coming off a couple of highly praised and commercially successful films, Mullum Malarum and Udhiri Pookkal – but it’s certainly a valid creative choice.
I was reminded of this creative choice when I watched Kenneth Lonergan’s Margaret. I am a big fan of his first film, You Can Count on Me, which is one of few dramas about a misfit (Mark Ruffalo) that doesn’t feel compelled to elevate him to some kind of dreamy-eyed rebel poster-boy (in other words, he just is what he is) – and I kept hearing so much about the studio-related troubles Lonergan had with his second film that it became a must-watch as much for seeing a long-awaited sophomore effort (it was released more than a decade after the first film, which came out in 2000) as for finding out just what could have made it such a source of discord. I loved Margaret, whose plot kicks into motion when a teenager, Lisa (Anna Paquin), distracts a bus driver (Ruffalo again) and inadvertently causes a tragedy. The rest of the film is about Lisa’s attempt to do the right thing, while also nurturing her inner diva, who presides over her need for adolescent drama.
The film is remarkable because its centre is a frankly unlikeable character, and what made me recall the Mahendran film is the stretch that follows the accident. After being questioned by the police, after coming home and crying and washing blood off her body, after barking at her younger brother, Lisa (along with the film) slips back into the routine. Lisa goes to the movies. Her mother, an actress, performs in a play and fends off an admirer who wants to buy her a drink. Lisa joins her mother and the rest of the cast for dinner, where her mother regales the others with Shirley Temple imitations. At school, her class reads out parts from King Lear. Her mother goes to dinner with the admirer, then comes home and begins to masturbate. Lisa barges into the bedroom and says she wants to talk. Nearly eight minutes have elapsed since the accident, and we finally return to it – although only fleetingly. The next scene has Lisa debating with others in class.
There are probably many films that do something similar, but it’s hard to immediately remember their names. (At least, I found it hard.) And I bring this up because of the recent discussions around Anurag Kashyap’s two-part Gangs of Wasseypur, where some people thought that a straight narrative line was not being hewn to. But digressions have a function, which is to offer relief from the tedium of a single-minded plot. In Pootadha Pootukkal, the plot has to return, at some point, to the runaway wife, and in Margaret, the plot has to return, at some point, to the accident. And these digressions are a loose equivalent (or perhaps an intelligent director’s equivalent) of a comedy scene or an item number, something that’s related to the characters in the story and yet not overwhelmingly so. I also bring this up to marvel at how one scene in one movie can reach into the memory vault and pull out another scene from a completely unrelated movie. It’s like magic. And it’s all in the mind.
Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here.
Copyright ©2012 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
rameshram
August 24, 2012
Thesaurus enge? Enge antha thesaurus!!
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Vasisht Das
August 24, 2012
herr Professore,
please to kindly elucidate for the discernment and perusal of the rest of us, mere proletariat down here, which which of the verbiage in the aforementioned thesis by our infelicitous Doctore, that piqued your prodigal self to invoke that voluminous tome (for, bereft of such profligate erudition from your lofty echelons, we shall be woefully denuded of our apportionment of mirthful minutiae) ?
in appetent anticipation of an alacritous response,
yours acquiescently etc.,
V.D.
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sai16vicky
August 25, 2012
Mahendran had so many firsts like this to his credit. Say, the movie “Johnny” was absolutely stylish in its way of treatment. I consider myself unlucky to have missed his three beautiful movies “Pootadha Pootukkal”,”Metti”(though I keep hearing the “Metti oli kaatrodu” song) and “Nandu”. But, there is something to observe. There were 2 other people who were carrying the torch along with him in his mission. Guess who? Ilaiyaraja and Ashok Kumar. And of course, he had a great affinity for literature as well, So, he was indeed a well shaped director!
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Santosh Kumar T K
August 25, 2012
“ But digressions have a function…” Perhaps sometimes taken very seriously in your comments section! 🙂
OK, in the true YouTube comments’ style ( the other being “I am from Pakistan/Punjab and I don’t understand a single word of Malayalam/Tamil. But what a melody, what a beauty. My all time favorite.” Booom, 140 likes. )
Thumbs up if you actually scoured the article again after cdrakenc’s first comment! 🙂
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Paresh
August 25, 2012
Cud-chewing at its best 🙂
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rameshram
August 25, 2012
blade,
Obsucre topic ?: check
Unknown film references: Check.
Missing point to the story: Check.
if it only had more polysylabblic words: It would be priceless.
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Vasisht Das
August 25, 2012
iow,
carry on Doctore!
lage raho Professore!
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Sanjay Shankar
August 26, 2012
Oh.. I am happy to know that there’s at least one other person that has seen (and loved) ‘You can count on me’.
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Ravi K
August 27, 2012
I too thought Margaret was fantastic.
Here I am pasting a review I posted on another forum when I saw this:
Despite (or probably because of) its sprawling nature, its a brilliant exploration of a lot of different things. Lisa’s guilt about the woman’s death, her righteous anger about the bus driver’s lack of apparent guilt (which is more about her own guilt), and general teenage confusion and ways of dealing with her issues in roundabout ways. I suppose I’m making it sound more sordid than it is, but the film is grounded, and the characters are fully rounded and human. The characters usually don’t communicate directly, but their issues and insecurities come out nevertheless. I particularly liked the scene where Matthew Broderick is arguing with a student about the interpretation of a passage from Shakespeare.
Lisa gets increasingly strident as the film goes on, so this is not an easy film to watch. But it makes sense for her character, and I was never bored during its 2 hr 30 min run time.
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brangan
August 28, 2012
sai16vicky: I’m not sure this is a “first”. Who knows — maybe someone did it before Mahendran?
Sanjay Shankar: Oh I love that film. The Ruffalo-Linney bond is one of the best brother-sister depictions I’ve seen.
Ravi K; About Lisa being “strident,” the beauty of the film is that most of the characters (except the mother maybe) isn’t exactly what you’d term “likeable.” And even the mother I lost sympathy for when she blew off Jean Reno. I think that’s where the film succeeds — in painting such prickly characters. And that’s also why these films are doomed to fail at the box office. After seeing the film, I found it slightly amazing that Anna Paquin’s performance went unnoticed.
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Udhav Naig
August 31, 2012
I am not too sure if digressions really have a point if it is just to “provide relief”. Knowing that I would run the risk of prescribing over-analysis, I think sometimes, emotions…(like say the subplot in Rocky) are ticked off with the help of what looks a very needless detour, but it has a function – not merely take our attention away from the plot or anything – but instead use it to further the “actual” (if I may say so) plot forward. In such cases, they function purely as a structural component in the script. IN some films, they become subplots, in others they are one-off random detours but they trigger something that gives some material to the larger story.
Talking of Mahendran, there is a sense of a jarring feeling, when Sundaravadivel’s side kick comes out of the blue and prods him to marry his wife’s sister. I think a subplot/ detour was definitely needed in the script.
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sai16vicky
September 1, 2012
@BR : Yes, that could be possible.
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