Spoilers ahead…
Perumal Pillai’s Thilagar is the story of two brothers in a village by the Thamirabarani. The older one (Bosepandian, played by Kishore) is the most respected man around, and he wants more for his brethren. He encourages a relative to stop this aruvaa business and become a cop. Thilagar, the younger one (Dhruvva), needs no convincing. He is “educated” (the fact comes up a few times, almost like a pejorative), and is repelled by the thought of violence – he becomes nauseous even at the sight of a chicken being slaughtered for dinner. But we know he’ll transform – the film, after all, is named after him.
It’s the same template that gave us Thevar Magan. It’s the same caste too, even if the title does not explicitly tell us so. If Thevar Magan had as its anthem Pottri paadadi penne / thevar kaaladi manne, Thilagar features a song with the lyrics Ethanaiyo perumaigalai vachirukkum vamsamada / sathiyama kulangalile enga kulam amsamada. A subsequent line makes clear what kulam this is (if we were still in doubt, after seeing the moustaches on these men) – we hear the word “pasumpon,” and we cut to a statue of Muthuramalinga Thevar. A little later, there’s a scene that unfolds in a cinema hall, with frenzied fans delighted at a glimpse of their “thalaivar.” We are talking about Karthik. The film is Amaran, which gives us an idea of the time period – 1992, the year Thevar Magan was also released. In case you missed all this, ‘Silk’ Smitha bites her lower lip and stares down from the rickety walls of the local arrack shop.
One way to regard Thilagar, then, is as a rehash of Thevar Magan targeted at the C-centre audience. The narration, in some parts, is ridiculously old-fashioned. After Bosepandian is killed (but you knew that was coming, right?), Thilagar stands mutely beside the corpse that was once his brother. His mother taunts him: pottachi. Bosepandian’s wife says it’s okay if he doesn’t do anything, There’s a lion in her womb, and he will avenge her – till then, this thaali will remain around her neck. It’s been a while since a Tamil film worked us over with the thaali sentiment, and I’d almost forgotten what we used to be subjected to in the 1990s. When Bosepandian’s wife is avenged, she walks into the house, stands in front of a mirror. She doesn’t just take off the thaali. She tugs at it – and tugs at it, and tugs at it – till it snaps off. She tosses it into a pitcher of milk. She wipes off her pottu. She removes her bangles. It’s widowhood porn, all over again.
But it’s not easy to dismiss Thilagar. Even in the midst of all this regressive behaviour (though who are we to call it regressive if this is indeed accepted practice?), we find a very progressive heroine. Jaya (Mrudhula Basker) is the film’s best character. The early portions of her romantic track with Thilagar are pure cliché. Usually, in these films, we only hear snatches of an Ilayaraja number, the aural equivalent of an amulet. Here, during this courtship, we hear practically all of Nethu oruthara oruthar paathom. (No wonder the composer is mad. Forget royalties, he doesn’t even get a thank-you note.) But when Jaya’s father finds out and accosts her, the scene is a pleasant surprise. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t start beating her up. He just grumbles under his breath, he lets on that he knows. Her reaction is equally muted. She doesn’t get panicky. She doesn’t deny it. She says she will marry Thilagar. The mother’s in the scene too. What’s not is melodrama.
In another scene, Thilagar is standing on the steps leading into the river. His lungi floats away, he can’t swim, so Jaya retrieves it for him – she performs the “saving the honour” duties that are usually the male’s prerogative in these films. She’s the one who initiates the romance, she’s the one who breaks it off too. After Thilagar turns into whatever Kamal Haasan turned into at the end of Thevar Magan (there’s even a scene involving decapitations, plus a message about ending the cycle of violence), Jaya summons him and says something like this: “You are justified in doing what you’re doing. But you’re making a lot of enemies. I don’t have the courage to marry you and lead a life constantly fearing for my thaali.” There, that word again. But this time, it’s not a sop-to-the-audience “sentiment”— we feel the weight of her words. I expected her to keep hanging around him, and then one day he’ll turn around and snap that he hasn’t got time for all this anymore, after which she’ll sing a sad number by the banks of the river from which she retrieved his lungi. But she makes a tough decision. She ends up with the upper hand. Thilagar, too, is written with insight and empathy. After the break-up, he isn’t a sad, broken man. He doesn’t look back, even once, at Jaya. Instead, he redirects all his love to his young nephew, who we see as the film opens. (The rest is a flashback.) This bonding isn’t overdone – it isn’t “cute.” There’s always a pall of grief.
One of the things that’s always bothered me about Thevar Magan is the Kamal Haasan character’s near-instantaneous transformation – clothes, chains, aruvaa moustache and all – into a drastically different person. Thilagar’s transformation is much more convincing. His brother is killed. His mother and sister-in-law taunt him. It’s easy to see why this pacifist, this coward even, takes to violence. But the how is beautifully depicted too. He goes to an expert and learns shooting. He assembles a small team. They learn to make crude bombs. His feelings may be his own, but he realises he’s not going to be able to avenge his brother’s death without the help of others. How strange to find this level of… realism, if you will, in a film which has those scenes with the “thaali sentiment,” along with an item number in which Neetu Chandra shakes everything she’s got, come-hithering the audience with lines like “Dumm dumm dumm edhuku / pee pee pee edhukku / Ellaame idhukku / Vaa mama.”
There’s some unexpectedly bravura filmmaking, most notably in the atmospheric stretch at a village festival. This is the sequence in which Bosepandian will end up killed, and the director infuses it with a mythical quality. The assassins – dressed up like demons, with long tongues and garlands of skulls – wander amidst the crowds, looking for their target, and after he’s slain, we get a visual grace note, the feet of a demon walking away from the corpse, anklet bells ringing. Search all of Kaaki Sattai or any random big-budget movie – you won’t find a single second that’s crafted with such care, with such a sense of composition. A couple of other sequences stand out – one in which Bosepandian’s son performs the rites for his father, and another where Thilagar, after hearing a noise in the night, steps out of the house and begins to look around for an intruder. Is there really someone, or is he becoming paranoid?
This is another improvement on Thevar Magan. Unlike the Kamal Haasan character in that film, Thilagar doesn’t really change – rather, the changes are only on the surface, so that others can see that he’s taken his brother’s place, that the village, therefore, is safe. (How I wished Thilagar had been played by a better actor. Kishore, though, is fine. He brings to his part what has become his trademark quality: dignity.) Inside, Thilagar is still the same man. He hasn’t slept in years because every time someone looks at him, he fears they are assassins sent by Ugrapandian. The latter (played by ‘Poo’ Ram) is this film’s Nasser character, and he’s promised to crush Thilagar in so horrifying a manner that “un aathavoda garbapai nadungum.” Ugrapandian is one of those old men who, to steal a line from Pauline Kael, “carry never-ending grudges and ancient hatreds inside a frail frame, those monsters who remember minute details of old business deals when they can no longer tie their shoelaces.” By the end, you may end up feeling a little sorry for him too, that he’s lost everything but his thirst for revenge, and now he’s too weak to do anything about it on his own.
There are times I wondered what this film might have been with a bigger budget, better production values – but the non-“classy” filmmaking, if you will, somehow ends up making things look more authentic. There’s no PC Sreeram to burnish the frames, and there were times I felt I was actually inside this village. (Some of the footage looks like a documentary, and I couldn’t make out if it was deliberate or the result of cost-cutting.) While watching Thilagar (with Thevar Magan running in my mind as a parallel track), I wondered if a film like Thevar Magan makes rustic life “safe” for an urban audience, like how it is when we step into Dakshin Chitra. You could say the same thing about the Madhavan portions in Aaydha Ezhuthu too – it’s squalor, all right, but it’s at an arm’s reach. The rich production values act as a buffer. There’s no buffer in Thilagar.
KEY:
- Thilagar = Sorry, no translation here; that’s just a dude’s name
Copyright ©2015 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Sanjay
April 3, 2015
Looks like Kishore has become our version of Bollywood’s KK. He played negative roles, good guy roles, all with shades of gray and keeps it believable. I can’t remember a single movie where I wasn’t impressed by his acting skills.
BTW, not to be picky, but I felt like I got the entire story from the review. I know you established the parallels with Thevar Magan early on, but still, I wish I hadn’t known as much I did. Also, ‘pottachi’ seemed like a perfect candidate for the key section.
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Rahini David
April 3, 2015
The best review after “Ennai Arinthaal”.
Please increase the Key section (like the lyrics of the come-hithering song)
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brangan
April 3, 2015
Sanjay: I know. Which is why I have that spoiler alert at the beginning. I knew the way I wanted to write about this film was looking at it through the “Thevar Magan” prism, and I felt I needed to say lay all of this out.
If I get too conscious about revealing plot points, then it affects the discussion. Can’t dig that deep. Win some, lose some, I guess.
Rahini David: Just not able to find the time 🙂 I keep thinking I’ll come back and fill up these Key sections with fun stuff but that never seems to happen. Maybe I should — like Wiki — invite you guys to chip in with the keys 🙂
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venkatesh
April 3, 2015
“it’s squalor, all right, but it’s at an arm’s reach. The rich production values act as a buffer.”
What an awesome way to say this, i have had this feeling about Mani Ratnam’s film for a long time , there is something just “too” perfect about his films “low-level” characters.
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Rahini David
April 3, 2015
BR: Even now there is nothing stopping others from contributing to the key section through the comments or you from incorporating them into your main set of keys. But no, it would not be a great idea.
Wikification of some blogs will be an improvement. But it will not suit this blog. Not even the Key section alone. Let it continue to be yours.
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whencat
April 3, 2015
BR: Did you watch the excellent documentary on the role of caste in Tamil cinema? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOoI4zNEOmI Called the Invisible Other, this brings out the caste-politics that was/is prevalent in Tamil cinema.
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Sriram
April 3, 2015
#Why-do-I-likeBR?
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whatsthat
April 3, 2015
the link to the byomkesh bakshy movie isn’t working
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Arun
April 3, 2015
@whencat- that’s an eye-opening documentary for someone who grew up in Chennai with no understanding of caste dynamics or politics of the southern part of the state. Here’s a follow up discussion that I found even more interesting – makes me see movies like thevar magan that I love in a new light!
Ps: Btw, the guy who made the documentary film, Suresh, has been quite critical in his tweets and posts of Rangan for his lack of understanding of role of caste in tamil cinema.
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whencat
April 3, 2015
Arun, have watched the discussion parts, too. Quite an useful discussion on how a cross-section of youngsters view caste/cinema. Rangan’s background is both his plus and minus – the context in which he grew up is what makes him the wonderful writer he is …. And that is the same thing that limits him, too. Nitpicking on the latter does not make sense. But Rangan should make use of all that he can and expand his horizon. He should read books that open his eyes to Dalit and Dravidian politics in TN. After all cinema and politics in TN are intertwined in complex ways.
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brangan
April 4, 2015
Sanjay: Your statement about KK made me wonder… that whole generation of art-film (or niche film) actors seems to have vanished. At one time, in these films, people like Konkona, KayKay, Abhay Deol, Raima Sen were everywhere. Now they’re nowhere.
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Jeeva P
April 4, 2015
Did the Karthik reference in the film had to do anything with Karthik , a few years before, having been the leader of Netajis Forward Bloc party , a party with a preponderance of Thevar people ?
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punit_online (@punit_online)
April 5, 2015
brangan@v its because makers of such films : VB, AK, DB etc have now found acceptance in mainstream and big production house and can afford casting Stars and hence the chance to earn some fat bucks. u see the recent films like Haider by VB had Shahid Kapoor , Byomkesh bakshi by DB has Sushant rajpoot, Badlapur by Raghvan had varun ( wtf) nad the biggest of them AK upcoming Bombay velvet has ranbir kapoor.
Even 5 years back same roles would have been gone to the likes of KK, Irrfan,Abahy Deol etc .. but possibly not any more. may be we hve to wait for next gen of directors !
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brangan
April 5, 2015
punit_online: I get that punit. What surprises me is that they’ve vanished from other films too.
I can see that AK etc. have become bigger and can now use bigger stars. What’s strange is that the new AKs (whoever they may be) aren’t using these actors either.
whencat: Yes, I did see that docu. Someone posted a link long back.
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Priya
April 8, 2015
” a film like Thevar Magan makes rustic life “safe” for an urban audience, like how it is when we step into Dakshin Chitra.”
Absolutely brilliant!
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Ram Sethupathi
August 25, 2015
Mr.Rangan, This is a movie review not a literature. Please keep it brief. If you like a movie and like to share the aspects that most attracted you, you can list them out as bullet points and conclude it. You can do the same for movies you don’t like as well. Because the last thing prospective audience would desire before they watch a movie is to read your essay detailing considerable portions of screenplay or your senseless theories based on your own strange understandings, comparisons and psychic assumptions of every other scene, dialogue and in this case the title of the movie. One must be self critical of themselves to start with before they gain the competency that is required for critiquing the works of others. It is understandable that after ages and ages of reviewing movies you would like to establish yourself as a professional writer or a wizard of words may be, but filling pages with your own Urban – Brahmanic biases in the name of reviewing movies wouldn’t really help you achieve that. Would it? Anyways, Wish you good luck.
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brangan
August 25, 2015
Ram Sethupathi: This review did not appear in the paper. It was just written for this blog — my personal blog, meaning that you wouldn’t have been subjected to it on a Sunday morning.
Given this, wouldn’t it have been easier and less angst-inducing to NOT READ this and spend that time doing something else, like reading someone else with fewer “Urban – Brahmanic” biases?
Just asking. That’s what I’d do if I don’t care for someone’s work. I’d just ignore them instead of popping a blood vessel.
PS: Movie reviews (or any kind of writing) can be literature.
PPS: It is understandable that… you would like to establish yourself as a professional writer
Um, that I think I already have. I am a professional writer.
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Rahini David
August 25, 2015
Aww, BR. He wished you luck. 😀
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ThouShaltNot
August 25, 2015
@ Ram Sethupathi:
…One must be self critical of themselves to start with before they gain the competency that is required for critiquing the works of others…
Where does that leave you and your botched psychoanalysis? Also, if concision isn’t your strong suit, don’t rail against prolixity. Confuses the heck out of “prospective” readers!
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Iswarya
August 25, 2015
BR: Now you see how unnecessary it was to begin that Premam review (OK, sorry, not review, but thoughts on the movie) with so much apologies for reviving the bullet-point format! There’s such a sweet admirer for that format who wants you to stick to it in every review.. 😀 And as Rahini pointed out, come on, he wished you luck, though he didn’t say for what.. Maybe to seen become pro? Ah, good luck from me too.
P.S. What keeps from flipping out when people take these gratuitous swipes at you especially under a long-forgotten review?
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brangan
August 25, 2015
What amuses me (and yes, sometimes annoys me) is that the people who put themselves on a pedestal and pass these sanctimonious comments are themselves guilty of the things they accuse me of — narrow viewpoint etc.
If you find me interesting, read me. If not, find someone else to read. Or watch TV.
Instead, you’re saying, “I will read you, BUT you have to write the way I want you to.” This is beyond baffling. It’s a kind of fascism.
And I think it’s just bad taste to harp on someone’s background, when it’s a fact that every single person is shaped by the things they’ve been exposed to from birth. But of course, that’s part of the sanctimoniousness in these people — they think they know everything and no one else does.
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Neena
August 25, 2015
Oh, I assumed most of the posts in this blog have appeared in the paper in some form. I liked this review; characteristically, you had written about what you found interesting and well done in what seems like a generic movie. But, what drew you to Thilagar in the first place, if not to write a review for the paper?
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brangan
August 25, 2015
Neena: If the disclaimer at the bottom says “Copyright The Hindu,” it’s for the paper. Else, it’s mine, for the blog.
what drew you to Thilagar in the first place…
Well, the idea of being a critic — i.e. some sort of cultural commentator (as I say in a piece this week) — is to cover every film released. But that’s not possible for two reasons.
(1) Time.
(2) A lot of films are really amateur attempts, not worth engaging with. In the sense, something like VSOP may not be worth engaging with either — but at least as a “cultural product,” it has some standing. It has stars, a wide release, it’s going to be seen by a lot of people, etc. So writing about this (or criticising it) makes sense, as opposed to the really basement-budget releases that no one is going to see.
So apart from the films you have to review for the paper, you seek out the films that look “interesting,” based on the trailer, the cast etc. This one did. As did CSK – Charles Shafiq Karthiga. As did Chennai Ungalai Anbudan Varaverkirathu…
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Neena
August 26, 2015
Yeah, I get that you seek out films that look interesting. My question was what you found interesting in Thilagar’s trailer, cast etc. Yeah, there is the disclaimer. But, hardly ever notice it. Assumed that it was there at the bottom of every article.
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Venkatesh
November 8, 2015
Happened to come across this ‘low-profile’ film just a few hours ago while travelling from Chennai to Trichy. To understand the Thevar influence, I think one need not wait until the scene where the statue of Muthuramalinga Thevar is shown. The lyrics of the opening song would do. Since I was seated at the back, I wasn’t able to follow most of the dialogues and figure out the actors. Had to rely mostly on sub-titles. You should watch the sub-titled version of the song which comes right after scene after the villain’s henchmen destroy Kishore’s banana plantation. Though the film was devoid of humour, the sub-titles made my day.
I liked the central theme of the film, but it’s easily one of the best ‘badly-executed’ films that I’ve watched in the recent times. The film opens with a narration, which talks about juvenile crimes. But was that the central theme? I was very confused initially as whether the movie is going to be on the lines of Komban or Suseenthiran’s Naan Mahaan Alla. I’m not sure what the director is trying to covey by linking delinquency with communal violence that’s pretty common in the southern districts.
The only character that looked nice to me was Kishore’s. It may not qualify as being in the league of the ones that he played in Polladhavan/Aadukalam, but it’s certainly a good character. BTW, has he shed his weight? I thought Bose was played by a look-alike of he actor. One more surprise element is the heroine. Look-wise there is a vast difference in her, between this film and Vallinam. As you say, there is no PC to “burnish the frames”. May be, the director decided not to use make-up for the heroine? Coming to the flashback sequence, am I the only one who thought it to be a flash-forward sequence, with the eight-year old kid being the grown-up Bose? 🙂
The title could’ve worked had they named the film ‘Thevar’. I think the director named it that way to give a namesake hint to the audience that the actor who played ‘Thilagar’ is the hero. On a different note, ‘Ramar’ could’ve been a good title!
Sorry for the lengthy post. I won’t mind if you chop the first and last paras off. 🙂
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