So there’s a new Gautham Menon movie out this week. I look forward to his films, for two reasons mainly. One, to see the way the heroine has been shaped. I know. This is borderline-blasphemy considering it’s essentially an Ajith movie and all, but even in Menon’s big-star outings like Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu – the kind of film that, in other hands, would provide ample excuse to trot out the sheepish excuse that “I had to make all these compromises because this is a big film and I wanted to reach not just the A-centre audiences but the ones in the B- and C-centres as well” – we get a fascinating heroine, not a virginal PYT but a divorcee with a daughter. Let’s not get into whether this character has much to do in the overall scheme of things. Her mere presence in a film of this magnitude is enough. Sometimes a rocket is enough to brighten up a night sky.
The other reason to anticipate Menon’s movies is the music. Yennai Arindhaal – as with Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu and Pachaikili Muthucharam, this title is a play on an MGR song – marks something of a return to form for Harris Jayaraj, a talented but often frustrating musician who’s content to coast on tunes that even an Easy Listening station would find too easy to air. But even in his most repetitive tunes, one element stands out: the sound. His sound is one of the best in the movies. It’s a modern sound, and it’s not just about audio effects and instruments. It also showcases voices beautifully. (Whether we want to hear some of these gibberish lyrics is another question. The answer: Let’s not go there.)
At the recently concluded Lit for Life, the Hindu’s literary festival, I attended an eye-opening workshop by the lyricist Madhan Karky. Among his many revelations was the fact that the first word in the song Ladio (from AR Rahman’s album for I) was “pani koozh,” i.e., “snow soup” – and every time, earlier, I’d heard it as “panikkul,” i.e, “inside snow.” This isn’t a major deal-breaker, for this isn’t a lyric-driven song. It’s punch comes from the propulsive arrangements and the breathy singing – that voice, really. Still, there’s a bit of sadness when a lyricist uses a beauty of a word and you miss it.
If you don’t know the language, you don’t care about lyrics. The tune, the music that supports this tune – these are the only things. The strange words become part of this tune, like scat syllables or ululations. But if you know the language, lyrics become important. And the lyrics in the Menon-Harris Jayaraj films are sumptuous affairs, thanks to the not-so-secret sauce that is Thamarai.
One way to assess the talent of a lyricist is by the unusual words used, and Thamarai always brings something new to the table – thula thattu, paramapadam, fresh rhymes like maattri/oottri. Another way is to see how they use metaphors, how they extend existing metaphors. The metaphor of one’s heart being a blank piece of paper isn’t new. This was used, most famously, by Anand Bakshi in Aradhana: Kora kaagaz tha yeh man mera / likh liya naam is pe tera. My life was a blank piece of paper… I fell in love with you… And now, on that blank paper, I’ve written your name. That’s the essence of these lines.
Look how much further Thamarai takes this metaphor in Menon’s Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya (whose music was by Rahman). In the exquisite Mannippaaya, she writes, Kaatrile aadum kaagidham naan / Nee dhaan ennai kadidham aakkinaai. I was a blank piece of paper being tossed about in the wind… You settled me… You stabilised me… And now that piece of paper is a (love) letter. That’s the essence of these lines. A blank paper with a name on it doesn’t let you, the listener, go too far. That’s pretty much the end of the imagery. But a letter, the things it makes you imagine… Ah.
An edited version of this piece can be found here. Copyright ©2015 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
harshithsubramanian1995
February 5, 2015
Looking forward to your review sir.
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Pranesh
February 5, 2015
Fresh off watching this movie (with an audience including two loud idiots that kept shouting; they’d have been beaten to pulp at Albert or Melody). Somewhat interesting character for Trisha, but several threads seemed like rehashes from old GVM movies (some of the police attitude, father-kid, etc). Easily the best of the recent big name releases, IMO, but could’ve easily been better. Nothing stood out in the romance scenes, which is not something I associate with a Gautham Menon movie.
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Madhu
February 5, 2015
“Mazhai kaalathil sariyum mann tharai polavey manamum” is another metaphor which I felt was quite different.
I am really looking forward to your review of the movie, BR. Planning to do one?
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Iswarya
February 5, 2015
“Pani koozh” is, I believe, the Tamil equivalent of “ice-cream” rather than “snow soup.” Seen this in a couple of ice-cream parlour hoardings. Did Madan Kaarki say he meant “snow soup”?
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Vijayakumar
February 5, 2015
“Another way is to see how they use metaphors, how they extend existing metaphors.”
Brilliant example there!
“May-be spoilers” ahead
I love how the lines
“Oru velli kolusu pola, indha boomi sinungum keezha,
aniyaadha vairam pola, andha vaanam minungum maela”
from “Unakkenna venum sollu” which is essentially a song sung by a father to his daughter, is modified in “Idhayatha edho ondru” which is a song when a heroine falls in love with that father.
“Oru velli kolusu pola, indha manasu sinungum keezha,
aniyaadha vairam pola, pudhu naanam minungum maela”
Just beautiful!
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Charisma
February 5, 2015
Wow! Rasanaiyil moozhgiya reviewer. For a person who has always found it difficult to experience music with unthinking/on-the-surface lyrics, it has been amazing to discover the nuances of poetry in song expressed here.
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Charisma
February 5, 2015
am reminded of the lines “sempulam saerndha neer thuli pol/ anbudai nenjam kalandha denna” from Narumugaiye👌 ethanai azhagi and ha varigalil, simple but profound.
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thotsvandi
February 5, 2015
So true on Harris Jeyaraj – the man who gave ivanthaana ivanthaana (minnalE), uyirE en uyirE (thotti jeya), manjaL veyyil maalai ithu and neruppE sikki mukki neruppE (Vettaiyadu vilaiyadu) – what is he really doing now? 😦
1) People say ‘mannipaya’s lyrics is somewhat a let down than Thamarai’s usual ones. But I always find that song melt me down.
‘tholai thoorathu veLicham nee’ ;noolil aadum mazhai’ – omg.
But I also somewhat sense mannipaya feels quizzical at that point in the film. They have become one now, she gave up her marriage for him. But she still feels unsure about their union. The very first line says it.
‘kadalinil meenAga irundhavaL naan, unakkena karai thaandi vanthavaL thaan, thudiththirundhEn karaiyiniLe, thirumbi vittEn kadalidamE’
THIS is something I would expect when she says no to him or when he is not picking her calls during that shoot. On the contrary the telugu version is written to the point. It is quiet madly in love too.
‘viduvanu ninnu ika paina’ – ‘I won’t leave you after all this’.
This version feels right in place at that moment – I came for you, I love you, I won’t go back. Or may be not.
2) The refreshing words she brought into TFM lyrics like – kaal mithi, mudivili, alaathi anbu (such an easy word, why nobody used it before her?), maRuviRpanai :O
3) I was surprised to know ‘injerungo’ was by her. The same I-am-flying-in-love in two different forms –
‘Kaalgal rendum tharaiyidam
Kobam kondu kalavaram
Mithanthu pogum pennaai aanenunga’
and
‘Kaal iruntha edathil ippo
Kaatru vanthu kudi irukku
Nadakkave thonalainga, mithakkathaan thonuthunga’.
Another surprise was ithuthana from saamy – a small drama for you –
‘maadiyin vaLaivil ennai kaNdu pidippaai
paarkkaadhadhu pol thiRamaai nadippai
thidumena thirumbi en idai vaLaippaai
padikaLin adiyil ennai aLLi eduppai’
5) And who will write ‘endha kaatRin aLaavalil malar idhazhgal virindhidumO’ – what else is there to write about that puzzling moment of falling in love?
And while we are going to Lotus Notes again, did she talk in thooya thamizh, how did you manage it? 🙂 Like ‘(“Adithu adithu ezhudhuvadhai vida azhithu azhithu ezhudhuvadhu vasadhi!”)’ 🙂
sorry for the big comment, couldn’t resist 🙂
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Ranjit Nair
February 5, 2015
GVM always does take care of writing well fleshed out female characters. Jyotika in KK, VV, Trisha in VV, even Simran in VV and Jyotika in PM albeit to a lesser degree. He stages romances darn effectively, relying on the actors’ charm much more than the usual filmy contrivances.
But ibdint completely agree with you on the songs. Yes the songs are great – I cannot comment on the lyrics as I am not Tamilian – but GVM butchers the picturization. Everytime I see those background dancers with their faces painted I cringe.
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oracle86
February 5, 2015
I feel different people experience music in different ways. Some focus on lyrics, some focus on the overall music, some exclusively on the rhythm while others on the song’s melody. Even for songs whose language(s) I am fluent in, the finer nuances of the lyrics are probably the last thing on my mind. It’s the various musical elements – the voice of the singer, the usage of specific instruments like the bass guitar or the mridangam for instance, the interludes, etc , that I find myself transfixed by.
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Dhananjayan K
February 5, 2015
I hope you also noticed the lyrics of “aila aila”,which had another layer of meaning referring to the items advertised (shown in the movie)…
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Ram Murali
February 5, 2015
Nice write up on the women and music in GVM’s movies.
He definitely writes characters which are far more interesting than the ones in the typical romance or action oriented films…but I am starting to get tired of these characters a bit…sure, they’re complex and intriguing but the angst, the attitudes and even some of the similar sounding lines (now let’s count how many GVM films have the line, “I want to make love to you”) have begun to tire me a little…but that said, I am looking fwd to how he’s shaped the trisha and anushka characters in YA 🙂
of all his female characters, I liked Aradhana in VV the best…she had some great lines and Jothika played the role perfectly…
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Santosh Kumar T K
February 6, 2015
The women in GVM’s movies, I feel, have a very “look-at-me-how-modern-I-am” in their heavily starched chiffon attires with khadi folders, and coffee mugs straight out of Shilparamam, Hyderabad. This of course ties in very well with the quasi-synthetic feel to his movies; things flow naturally yet there’s something staged, synthetic at play. A kind of stiffness that’s too obvious to be ignored. For someone hailing from the Mallu land ;), so self-aware, and having been in business since 2000/2001, one expects GVM to have smoothened the edges, softened all while retaining his trademark punch.
Not comparing but just for a reference, his women — for all their “realness”— lack that lived-in, laid back, organic feel of those from the Vishal Bhardwaj – Shimit Amin – Farhan Akhtar enterprises.
or closer home, the sophisticated yet total rowdy, the total rowdy yet classy’ness of the characters in the movies of — the baap of them all — the madras talkies man.
Simran’s Indira from the one of the best modern/contemporary classics, Kannathil Muthamittal? What a delight (in totality) her character is!
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palanisamya
February 6, 2015
Enjoyed reading this piece BR… as always.
(Few more lines that lingers on my mind all the time from GVM-Harris-Thamarai combo:
VV – Paartha mudhal naale song: En Pathagai Thangiya Un Mugam Un Mugam Endrum Maraiyathe
VA – Nenjukkul peydhidum – Ennodu vaa, veedu varaikkum,En veetai paar, ennai pidikkum ——
They work together really well!).
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J.Sriram
February 6, 2015
“A blank paper with a name on it doesn’t let you, the listener, go too far.”
Ah! How you dismiss Anand Bakshi’s words. Putting your name on something means something. It is not ‘a’ name. It is your beloved’s name. And you are writing it on a piece of paper that is your heart/mind/soul. A paper on which nothing else is written. The emptiness that may have been second nature to him all his life is now gone. In its place is a single word, her name. Does it not have this ‘You are mine. I am yours’ connotation to it. In fact they say just that before the song begins (among other blade things as I painfully found out while watching for the sake of accuracy)
The endless possibilities that lie ahead with a piece of paper which has nothing but her name on it – that is the imagery. Turning that piece of paper into a letter (to my mind) gives it a specificity and does nothing to ‘extend the metaphor’ as you say.
So you see the imagination does fly if one remains open. There’s a bit of sadness when a lyricist uses a beauty of a word and you miss it.
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Rahini David
February 6, 2015
Santhosh Kumar: I don’t think GVM intends to make his women realistic. I feel he is well aware that he is painting ethreal female characters. Only his definition of the unattainable perfect woman seems to include women who have high marks, ambitions, careers and sometimes even children when other filmmakers just seem to think that unattainable perfect women are “Fair, Beautiful, Rich and Virginal”
Their wardrobes are unrealistic too. You can imagine a newly wed bride dressing as Revathy does in MRaagam or imagine a medical student dressing as Shalini does. But the GVM heroines are not like that. We are supposed to gape at their taste, class and perfection not really get to know them. Nobody dresses like that in a day-to-day basis. But he knows exactly what types of body language, smile and demeanor this woman should possess to make her desirable, yes, but also so classy that she seems slightly intimidating.
The only problem is that this woman is the same woman from his first movie. The actresses who play that character are changing but the “the woman” seems to be the same woman. (IMO)
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Ravi K
February 6, 2015
The lines from “Mannippaya” are about one person being pulled from the abyss of wandering purposelessness.The key is that first line. It’s a much more evocative verse. Not just a blank sheet of paper, but a blank sheet paper without a home. The uses of the blank paper metaphor in “Mannippaya” and in “Kora Kaagaz Tha Yeh Man Mera” are appropriate to the tones of the songs. If the former is an intensely melancholic reflection on a romance that has just ended, the latter is a love letter written in that feverishly exciting start of a romance. It’s interesting to see how two songs use the same metaphor very differently.
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Santosh Kumar T K
February 7, 2015
I agree, Rahini David. “The only problem is that this woman is the same woman from his first movie. The actresses who play that character are changing but the “the woman” seems to be the same woman.” Bulls eye!
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/santydolby/15836315914/)
If a director’s idea of having an apparently mid to late 30s character — portrayed by a star, however waning at that time — play it down, keep it simple, keep it organic as reflected in the collage above, he/she is a genius already and has made the said character aspirational, ideal, slightly unattainable (in a nice way) in my book. That is if one were to buy into the theory of one’s attire being an index of one’s mindset.
Someone making a young adult character drape her pallu around her other shoulder à la women in their 50s/60s, and not really care for displaying every legally possible ounce of her breasts à la other directors in their “Fair, Beautiful, Rich and Virginal” mode is ethereal to me. (This is Indira in the doctor’s clinic right after the bomb blast; a logical, probable event, however trivial.)
Her working for a television channel (a visible newsreader at that) is incidental, her being well educated is incidental, her subtle declaration of love for Thiru</> is incidental her husband driving a white simple Maruti 800cc is only in parentheses. None of these fine brush strokes hit you in face awkwardly or demand your attention by grabbing your collar. They not distract you from the bigger, finer, classier painting on show.
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Santosh Kumar T K
February 7, 2015
I agree, Rahini David. “The only problem is that this woman is the same woman from his first movie. The actresses who play that character are changing but the “the woman” seems to be the same woman.” Bulls eye!
(https://www.flickr.com/photos/santydolby/15836315914/)
If a director’s idea of having an apparently mid to late 30s character — portrayed by a star, however waning at that time — play it down, keep it simple, keep it organic as reflected in the collage above, he is a genius already and has made the said character aspirational, ideal, slightly unattainable (in a nice way) in my book. That is if one were to buy into the theory of one’s attire being an index of one’s mindset.
Someone making a young adult character drape her pallu around her other shoulder à la women in their 50s/60s, and not really care for displaying every legally possible ounce of her breasts à la other directors in their “Fair, Beautiful, Rich and Virginal” mode is ethereal to me. (This is Indira in the doctor’s clinic right after the bomb blast; a logical, probable event, however trivial.)
Her working for a television channel (a visible newsreader at that) is incidental, her being well educated is incidental, her subtle reciprocation of love for Thiru is incidental, her husband driving a white simple Maruti 800cc is only in parentheses. None of these fine brush strokes hits you in face awkwardly or demands your attention by grabbing your collar. They all ring true, they do not distract you from the bigger, finer, classier painting on show.
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Santosh Kumar T K
February 7, 2015
Sorry, the correct link is https://flic.kr/p/q8pfZy
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brangan
February 7, 2015
Don’t have the time now to make a detailed comment but just wanted to say this before it slipped my mind. I don’t think it’s fair to compare Gautham’s heroines and Mani Ratnam’s heroines. The latter range from the light-hearted (amala in “Agni”) to the ultra-serious (Manisha in “Dil Se”). Only one Tamil director has created better women characters than Mani Ratnam, and that’s KB.
There’s nothing in Gautham’s career that even comes close to this range and depth — and I don’t mean this as a failing. Gautham’s heroines, as someone pointed out, are idealised types. You won’t find in Gautham’s films a heroine like Simran in Kannathil… where she has a ketchup stain on her nightgown. The crisp saris etc. of the Gautham heroine are part of this “perfect” mode. And I think it’s better to idealise this form of the urban heroine than the ones who wear tight Tees or minis just to show they are “urban” (while munching on burgers and fries). Whatever you may say about Gautham’s heroines, they still look like they’d tuck into sambar saadham 🙂
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Ramesh
February 8, 2015
A sidenote to this discussion here is that its not just the heroine thats idealized. The same applies to the hero too. Whats the point of the kada that GVM’s macho heroes wear. Isnt it kind of like trying to convey: this is what defines the hero- the looks that differentiate him. Why should this even matter when it is the characters action that you are trying to get across. I just watched Blue Ruin the other day. GVM should take cues from this film about characterization. How many tamil guys wear a bracelet. Or how many tamil women wear designer sarees. He loses the connect with his audience by coming across as being elitist. I am not all against sporting a high class look but it has to be propped with strong content. Otherwise it is on poor grounding. Kaaka kaaka being a good example of it working well. The same feelings(not jealousy but revulsion about how fake they are) that one has for elitist snobs one meets in real life I have for the characters in the movie too. A particular turn off for me is when ppl speak half a sentence in English and other half in tamil. Speaking a whole sentence either in tamil or English would be preferable. If not possible, I feel its perfectly possible to use just the difficult to translate English words and cobble the rest of sentence in tamil. However the broken half sentence style appears to be fashionable among the high society folks and is copied without thought by these pseudos. Oh weIl, I think I ranted enough for now. I am out of here.
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oneWithTheH
February 8, 2015
Anniyan-is-to-‘I’ as to (‘KK’+’VV’)-is-to-YA
Pranesh: Echo your thoughts. The two recent big releases I and YA are disappointing mainly because their creator’s ideas seem to have regressed and they thought to play safe with themes from their earlier movies. And what is with the mind numbing running time of 3 hrs in both?
The bigger disappointment for me was Shankar. For someone who keeps his projects under wraps for a significant period and works on movies years together, ‘I’ was a tame attempt.
I think YA is the first Ajit movie I liked after ‘Vaali’. I can understand GVM playing it safe because this was his first mass-hero outing. Still, the same old villain(Pandiyan, Amudhan, Victor) mannerisms, leading lady scenarios are beginning to feel stale. Good that he himself claims this is his last in the cop trilogy. He is better off making love stories and frankly is really good at those (VTV, NEPV). I have to give it to the songs and their picturization though. Both were brilliantly done.
Did anybody feel the awesome camaraderie-filled lyrics of ‘Adharu Udharu’ were grossly underutilized?
vaazhayai kattum Vella…
light ah kattura Vichu…
galeeju Raidu….
pandhala kattura Mayilu…
pandhiya paakura Baala…
panneera thelikum John…
There are so many character references and yet we the audience have no clue why they were being introduced to us.
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Gradwolf
February 8, 2015
Many of Gautham’s women come across as manic pixie dream girls. VTV and the Yennai Arindhaal are definite exceptions. He’s come a long way with YA in that respect actually. Quite well done.
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Gradwolf
February 8, 2015
Having said that, I don’t have a problem with the same women appearing in his films. In fact with Yennai Arindhaal, even a lot of themes (concerning women or not) are repetitive. I don’t think this is necessarily a negative trait.
I’d rather take these prominent roles for women in a what is really a hero oriented film than the stuff we get in the name of women as sides. Sample this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ibWDMG6pQ0 (If there is an army attacking the quality of tamil film industry, M. Rajesh plays D(G)ronacharya. I am quite sure about it.)
This is also true for the elitist women argument. I don’t think GVM has enough background to write any other type. If we do find it irritating that the characters seem the snobbish elite like we meet in real life (oh its real after all!) it’s more of our problem than GVMs. Menon clearly doesn’t belong to any other type and he rather not try writing any other type.
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itsmesri
February 9, 2015
*** I apologize for the long comment***
I know this might not be an appropriate post to this article. But since you have already spoken about some of Madhan Karky’s lyrics, I wanted to talk about one song in particular just to show how well he writes.
I noted a post on his microblogging page soon after the audio tracks of “I” were released. He was posting about each song and he mentioned the song Aila Aila having two meanings for the same lyrics. This got me thinking and as I analyzed this with other people who were commenting we discovered that it was true. I am sorry I have to post the entire lyrics to explain the beauty of this.
The video explains series of advertisements being shot (That’s my guess. I haven’t seen this movie yet). The song on the outset is romantic but then it features lyrics about each product too. It is both romantic and yet explains what product it is. I have mentioned the product and then the lyrics.
Shaving Razor
un pidiyile en uyirum iruka
oor urasalil en vergal silirka
nee enn mutkal koyithaai
kaalai unnil muthathil mudiyum
naalum unnil thappaaga mudiyum
nee ennai menmai seithaai
Enathu romane siruthu keeruvai
thiriyin korile manadhai koorava
mugaththai moodiye thirudi pogavaa
Toothpaste
konjam konjam konjamaail ennai pidukki
aila aila edupaaya
thoorikaiyile ennai kidathi
vinmeengal vellai adipaya
thuppu thulaka varuvaaya
mutha sitharalgal ooya
poovilaamal aila vaasam hooya
nee ingu sirithuvitaai adhanaala ?
marubadi sirithida nilavugal kuthithida
boomi engilum oli
ini minsaaram koonjum deepam siru
Moisturizer
Undhan meni engilum ennai eduthu
aila aila nee poosa
etti paarthidum kaakaigalum
kannai moodume koosa
vaanin vilimbile heiya ilansivapai hooya
Roja poovil aila vannathai hoila
nilavinil salithedupen unakaaga
sarumathin vizhimbinil olirvadhu therivadhu thevadhaigalin thiral
un keezhe pookum ven pookal pookal illai nizhal
Talks about blue jeans and read shirt
Sakkai ena vaanathil pizhiundhu
aindhu kadalin aazhathil karaindhu
naan en kangal konden
Ailla vizhi neelathai eduthu
aandhai ena un maarbil udutha Pey very unnil kanden
idhalin variyile noolgal parikava kaadhal thariyile naanum urikava
paruthi thiriyile pothigal therikava
oodadhe en jeen maane vaa
What an amazing lyrical combination. I am not sure if there has been any other song that had such complicated lyrical pattern to infer two meanings (pardon my ignorance here).
I feel sad just like you that the beauty of these lyrics has gone completely missing because of the music may be (I personally liked it). Not many of my friends to whom I explained this were able to get it.
Thought I would post it here. Apologies for it not being relevant and perhaps a little too long. Hope you read this though 😛
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S Mohan
February 9, 2015
Now BR, why do such discussion on music and lyrics is conspicuous by it absence in your reviews? Now don’t give that Dr.Jekyll/Mr Hyde thing – watching a moview as a reviewer and as a simple audience are quite different.
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oracle86
February 9, 2015
Ramesh, I disagree with your opinion that people who speak sentences half in Tamil and in English are elitist snobs. I am one of those people and that’s just the way I speak with my friends. I think in English and English is the language I’m most comfortable in. If I’m in a formal situation, then I would speak in formal Tamil, but otherwise it’s always going to be a hybrid of the two. With my Malayali cousins on my mom’s side, it’s Manglish. And with my North Indian friends from college, it’s Hinglish. That’s just the way my generation speaks – and is testament to how pervasive English is in our lives.
An elitist snob, imo, would insist on using formal English every where. Or formal Tamil everywhere. I’ve yet to see an elitist snob who would stoop so low as to speak in a hybrid language. 🙂
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brangan
February 9, 2015
S Mohan: Because movie reviews and music reviews are different. It’s just not possible (or IMO even advisable) to get into things like lyrics discussion when talking about a movie. You need to listen to music many times before you know what effect it’s having on you, and with lyrics too. Over the years, I’ve grown uncomfortable doing such a deep analysis of songs and lyrics in a movie review.
That said, I reserve the right to contradict this if I feel like it — or more importantly, if the MOVIE makes me feel like it.
That’s really the key thing. Feeling. It is only in India that reviews insist on being some kind of report card, calling attention to ALL aspects of a movie and rating them. This is really the silliest thing.
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Santosh Kumar T K
February 9, 2015
“That’s really the key thing. Feeling. It is only in India that reviews insist on being some kind of report card, calling attention to ALL aspects of a movie and rating them. This is really the silliest thing.”
Aaah, spot on, sir!
Despite being blessed with sheer numbers that should be qualitatively satisfying and enriching, we are somehow obsessed with reductionism, objectivity and statistics. Even a visually stunning and beautiful game like cricket is not spared what with the reliance on ESPNcricinfo for its barrage of mind-boggling statistics!
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Ashutosh
February 9, 2015
Thamarai reminds me of Emily Dickinson. Strong female voice without being politically feminist. And her lyrics have a devastating lack of self-consciousness… her inventiveness is organic because it never calls attention to itself, is never self-congratulatory. In Yennai Arindhaal… the line ‘ulagennum paramapadham, vizhundhapin uyarvu varum’ somehow doesn’t have the machismo or overtly inspirational tone that it would have been laden with had someone like Vairamuthu written it. And, when it is a male who sings these lines, it’s a delicious experience. A female lyricist is actually not just giving voice to the female experience in Tamil, she is also giving voice to a male sensibility that male Tamil lyricists hadn’t explored before.
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Ramesh
February 10, 2015
@oracle86
The folks who insist on only pure english or tamil .. well you need to create special categories for them. By some strange correlation they also have expectations of fake modesty from others and revel in displaying it themselves.
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Pady Srini
February 10, 2015
This movie was so disappointing. Either GVM has run out of creativity ( age maybe ) OR the original story was just changed to satisfy an overweight actor’s fan base. And this is not even close to Kaaka Kaaka or VV. Clearly with the good movies of 2014, Tamil cinema has moved on and actors like Ajith and directors like GVM need to understand that we wont take such trash.
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Sakkaravarthi
February 11, 2015
Watched the movie few days ago and listening to the songs now. First few listens weren’t so memorable, a sense of deja vu crept in. I kept pressing next after few seconds into the songs, when they just fizz out after the really good beats. All that changed when I watched the movie. I still feel that repetitiveness, but it helped to push the story forward. I agree with you when you say Harris is good with sounds because they were a huge boost for me to relate to the main character, something the screenplay really let down. The songs still linger around, especially “Unakenna venum sollu”.
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Blasta
February 12, 2015
Okay, haven’t read this, so hopefully nothing to be moderated here…
Ennai Arinthal – an attempted review.
There seems a long line of people who have understood that this movie is not going to work as it is, foremost among them being Harris. His music drowns out the action, particularly in the second half, and for good.
Harris’s tunes for YA never rise above the ordinary, one would hate to think that much like the over praised and long underperforming AR Rahman, Harris time as a maker of popular music is up. Perhaps like Rahman he too needs the help of a “EPI” power, and the earlier he seeks it, the longer his career (as ARR’s) is bound to be.
Ajith manages to find another story where he is as irrelevant as the story per se, one almost forgives ARM for “Katthi”fying us and wishes that he had made a Thuppakki like script for this.
GVM has his reputation, but then so have Mani Ratnam, and Bharathi Raja, people whose cinemas are not exactly on any current “must watch list”, you get the idea. Having all those National award winners assist does no good to their current or future reputation. GVM’s current arc is pointing down, and firmly.
Had a friend who slept through the first half, got himself fresh during the interval, and still managed to sleep through the second. Even as the noises played out on screen, the stillness in the audience was deafening. It is as if directors have forgotten that the story merely plays out on screen, the real story happens in the audience’s mind.
The positives are hard to find, there is that definitive GVM touch, to the characters and the screenplay, but as my friend pointed out, had there been a little more of off screen narration, he would have puked. So would have I, despite being sober.
The kid, is a major positive, she handles her scene with an elan that her senior performers seem to have missed. That would be an overstatement, Ajith actually manages to play his role with some sensitivity, so do the others, Anushka’s moments of brilliance are still there, Trisha, well, Trisha is Trisha, trying hard since Mangatha and Manmathan Ambu, in making a market for the “past her teens” heroine.
However in the overall, the rise rise above the ordinary, one that is expected of superstars, is simply not there. Part of the blame is on the lame duck story, the rivalry between Arun VIjay and Ajith fails to satisfy, either the mind, or the heart. Oh ya, Arun Vijay seems to have come of age, as a hero.
The tracking bit with the kid looked intelligent, but for another intelligence failure, that of the police in tracking Victor’s final whereabouts, surely it would have been easier to isolate him and….they should have learnt from ARM and Thupaakki that at least some lame duck reason would have passed pronto. The perils of modern day story telling….
The cinematography is extre(mely)-ordinary, it does flow with the story, but then we have been spoiled for long with super beautiful shots that one does expect more, the western instinct of the camera not disturbing the story, while it looks attractive, does not sit well with our cinema.
As to Anushka and Trisha, if age has not been kind to them at least the camera should have been. If but for this crime than any, the cinematographer needs to be paraded in public and shot through his pubis, and have that bullet hole sandpapered to a fine finish.
Anushka in particular looks like a woman on a pill and running through an extended menstrual cycle. Where is that beauty that so entranced us, where is that beauty that made us think that we could take her home to Mamma, and still promised Mamma Mia.
The only place where Trisha manages to look good is when she is pregnant, and one does not deny her pre-partum attractiveness to Ajith. It is the industry’s fault that Trisha has been made to believe that all she needed to do to act was to purse her pretty lips, and she does so, she thinks enticingly.
Blame those modern cameras, or that gummy cinematographer, everyone looks aged and unwholesome, and somewhat indescribably undesirable. To hear one being described as the worlds most handsome and come across a bleary eyed Ajith is the first shock the movie gives us, and we never manage to come out of it.
Who did they think he is, George Clooney? It seems that no one has learnt from comparing Billa 1 and Billa 2, that Ajith is best seen in profile and in the dark, and as the Mallus like to say, with glasses on. That receding hairline does no justice to his still aquiline face, and he better do a Bruce Willis, go bald…
So what is the story, my friend asked, seeing that I had sat through its entirety. Better ask GVM, was all I could say. In short, Ennai Arinthal was a story best left untold, and does no good to GVM’s already declining career graph.
Arintha pin nirka adharku thaga…is the best advice one could give him.,,, currently
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