Spoilers ahead…
You’ll know if Nimirndhu Nil is the kind of movie for you when you hear these words at the opening: “You are the statue. You are the sculptor. Shape yourself well, and the world will shape out well.” Movies usually end with messages, but the director Samuthirakani begins with one – and thereon, the film is just one well-meaning exhortation after another. The screenplay, sometimes, feels less a collection of dialogues and emotional cues than a series of op-ed pieces sewn together in the most stentorian fashion.
Remember “Rules” Ramanujam from Shankar’s Anniyan? Arvind (“Jayam” Ravi) is something similar. He’s studied the Gita, the Bible, the Quran, the Thirukkural, and for relaxation, he flips through a copy of the Kena Upanishad. And he’s shocked when he realises that the people in the world outside don’t seem to have read any of these books – at least they behave that way. He’s shocked when people drive motorbikes while talking on cell phones. He’s shocked when two men cause an accident on the road and refuse to move their cars, oblivious to the ambulance that’s stuck in their wake. He’s shocked when a traffic cop insists on a bribe even though he has all his papers. He’s shocked when he’s thrown in jail and sees that his cell mate is using ganja. He’s shocked about acid attacks, about rapes. In short, the film’s early portions list out a catalogue of sins that incite Arvind to do something to shake up the society around him.
And he does. He lays traps, with help from honest public servants, and has the corrupt public servants arrested – one of whom likes wearing caps with legends like “Mr. Clean,” “Mr. Honest” and “Mr. Truth.” Irony, I suppose.
The first half is devoted to Arvind’s victory, news of which spreads through the state, cheering the common man. But the second half, inexplicably, is structured like a revenge saga. The people Arvind exposed now form a team, discover that there’s someone from Andhra Pradesh (also “Jayam” Ravi) who looks like Arvind and who can be used to topple him (cue “mass” song-and-dance with Telugu lyrics) – and somewhere along the way, Arvind transforms from scripture-reading pacifist to the kind of guy who rams his van into the Pajero in front of him, being driven by his doppelganger.
Amala Paul is in there somewhere, making sad faces whenever Arvind gets into trouble. Sarath Kumar is in there somewhere, hoping you don’t blink and miss him. Gaana Bala is in there somewhere, apparently sensing our general dismay, and attempting to cheer us up with a song that goes “Don’t worry, be happy.”
KEY:
* Nimirndhu Nil = stand straight
* Anniyan = see here
* someone from Andhra Pradesh = see here
* sad faces = see here
* Don’t worry, be happy = see here
An edited version of this piece can be found here. Copyright ©2014 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Anand
March 10, 2014
Is he Named Arvind, because of AAP 🙂
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Aparna
March 10, 2014
“Amala Paul is in there somewhere, making sad faces whenever Arvind gets into trouble”
– haha, the best line ever written about a heroine?! Loved it 🙂
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ram murali
March 11, 2014
Samudrakani has been getting increasingly preachy…I felt that NadodigaL was a tad preachy in the 2nd half but the drama in the pre-interval portions was so deftly handled that it was not that noticeable…but in PoraaLi, he went all out with his samooga karuthu stuff…only the comedy made that film watchable…
i feel that he and Karu Pazhaniappan have the same weakness – they make the characters mouth pieces for their ideologies…how it hurts characterizations 😦
Kani’s best is actually his most underrated effort – that gem, Unnai Charanadainthen…with a more charismatic pair, that could have been a classic…
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TheKomentor
March 11, 2014
@Anand: Good observation.
Funny when directors try to cash in, literally, on the current mood of society.
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Jason
March 12, 2014
The movie can be seen once but athuku mela no chance pa..
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brangan
March 13, 2014
ram murali: I must say I prefer Karu Pazhaniappan. Liked both “Parthiban Kanavu” and “Pirivom Sandhippom.”
Jason: I have never understood this evaluation. Even in reviews, people say things like “Oru thadava paakkalaam.” How many people, these harried days, actually see films more than once?
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Bama
March 13, 2014
the final lines carry pun revealing the identity of the characters in the movie.. enjoyed the review
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venkatesh
March 13, 2014
BR: Well i do….. but i know what you mean. I have never understood the idea of “Can see it once ?” – what does that actually mean ?
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ram murali
March 14, 2014
Pirivom Sandhippom was his best…esp. the first half…understated elegance…
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Sutheesh Kumar
March 14, 2014
Hi, this is my debut comment on any kind of social media or forum.
Why i’m doing this now is because i like your writing style, the way you recreate any scene in a movie the way you have you have analysed it. Your insights are i suspect, eerily similiar to the way the creator of that scene had envisioned. I have I’ve become a junkie of your blog. Its become my weekly fix along with Milliblog and Musicaloud. I just loved your music reviews which you do rarely and your prose takes on the hue of poetry then. Looking forward to more.
PS: Any chane of your two cents on the BBC series ‘Sherlock’ ?
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Rahini David
March 14, 2014
Rangan/Venkatesh: Nobody writes home to anybody else. But “Nothing to write home about” still exists as an expression.
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brangan
March 15, 2014
Sutheesh Kumar: Thank you. Nope, haven’t seen a single episode, though I hope to rectify that soon.
venkatesh: Oh, I see films multiple times too. What I’m talking about is using this as a way to review movies, as a sort of yardstick.
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