An interview with K.V.Anand, director of Tamil Movie, Ko, published in the Hindu Metroplus)
By Prema Manmadhan
Go, see ‘Ko'. Especially, if you are a press photographer of the print variety. There's ample vicarious satisfaction that can be derived all through. For others, it is a reflection of today's political and societal ‘tamasha', sadly termed the ‘trends in life'. The theme is so scorching topical, in the days of Anna Hazare and the poll season. It belongs to that genre of movies where the connoisseur and the ‘mass' type have something to cheer about, subject-wise and cinematically.
Director K. V. Anand, who was in the city as part of the film's promotion, says autobiographical elements abound in the movie, in an exclusive interview with Metro Plus. His tragi-comic experiences while working as a freelance photographer for India Today, The Illustrated Weekly of India and in Kalki came in handy.
Autobiographical
“It's not only my experiences, but my friends' too, with orthodox photo editors. If you give them a photo with mood, light and shade, they ask, ‘why is it that one half of the face is not seen?” he remarks. The scene where Jeeva is confronted by the photo editor in the film and the ensuing hilarious dialogue actually happened to Anand in 1989, he said.
As in the movie, Anand had often been threatened by lackeys of politicians. “Once in Rajapalayam, while working for Kalki, I was chased by the goons of an MLA and while running, I changed the film in the camera and put in a blank film. They caught me, and exposed the film. But we published the pictures, which were safe with me. But there is absolutely nothing autobiographical about the two girls in the movie,” insists Anand with a chuckle.
Talking of dialogues, Suba and Anand have infused the comic element, without resorting to inane comedy, christened slapstick. So, you have such anti-climax moments when Jeeva, fresh from a heroic scene, tells Karthika he has ‘something to tell her'. She is all ears and romantic, when he says, “Can you lend me 1,000 bucks to give you all a treat?”
Anand does not believe in ‘professional comedy' in films. “Situational comedy is my cup of tea,” he says. Likewise, no contorted faces for villains here. Remember the classical ‘One can smile and smile and be a villain?
The face of villainy is handsome in ‘Ko' (meaning leader). You will never guess who the real villain is till nearly the fag end.
Photography gets its due and it's almost as important a theme as corruption and politics. Recent photographs taken by the Photography Club of Madras, started in 1939, have been used as a film collage while showing the credits. “The idea is that they are pictures taken by the hero,” he explains. Cinematography consumes Anand. Early in life, bitter at not getting a regular photographer's job he sought to become P.C. Sriram's ‘shishya' and assisted him.
His first independent assignment, ‘Thenmavin Kombathu', a poem on celluloid, (cliché all right, but true) won the national award. ‘Shivaji the Boss' had his cinematography as also the Hindi ‘Josh'. Yet, Richard M. Nathan cranks camera for ‘Ko'. Why has he not, as a proven seasoned cameraman, done it himself?
Without hesitation, he says, “When you become both cameraman and director, you will kill one of them. I did not want that to happen. Each is a full time job. When I am the cameraman, even at the last minute, I still keep improving the shots. The director, meanwhile, has his share of the job, trying to make the film as a whole, as well as he can, organising last minute work. The producer must get his money, after all. That is why.”
His first directorial venture was ‘Kana Kandein', which made waves. Having directed the hit ‘Ayan' in 2009 and now, ‘Ko', will Anand the director delete Anand the cameraman from the film scene?
“No, no,” he stresses. When I don't have a script to make into a film, I will be a cinematographer. I am open to both.” As if to accentuate the point, he speaks about the Phantom-Flex camera that was used in the climax scene in ‘Ko', which works at six times the speed of the normal camera.
“It is still in demo mode and we borrowed it from the makers in Singapore just for two days. They told us there is no guarantee that we will get the shots right. But we got all the shots filmed. There is exchange of fire and I was not content with just the usual ‘dishum dishum' stuff. I wanted to show the journey of a bullet, which can be seen, in slow motion, with the 2,800 frames-per- second shots.
Characterisation is one element which few writers and directors care about. In Ko, that's carefully done so that each one's words and deeds are inkeeping with the kind of characters that they are msde out to be by the writer. Casting is another plus point. Ebullient Jeeva suited the lead role but Ajmal's is indeed the plum role, where he has scope to emote. Having to portray diametrically opposite emotions, and body language, he does the role very well. Piya Bajpai and Karthika do their very different roles well. Kotta Srinivasa Rao and Prakash Raj don roles that they are familiar with. Down to the small time thug, casting is just right.
Netherlands and China
Richard M. Nathan's photography takes you to beautiful Netherlands and Northern China. “In the Netherlands, labour is very expensive, so we had to cart the equipment ourselves. All of us had to trek 14 km for the shooting of that song,” says Anand. The visuals are striking. Ice sculpture in China is a sight to behold, the gigantic life size buildings and animals, between which the hero and heroine dance.
But does the story really need those songs? Aren't they out of place? “Well, this lighter element is needed for a large section of the audience along with the serious part of the film. For film festivals, about 25 minutes of the film will be cut (read songs) when we send the prints,” Anand says.
The Rs.12 crore ‘Ko' sure has ‘dum'.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Organic bamboo wind chimes
(Published in The Hindu Metroplus in March last week)
By Prema Manmadhan
It's dark; rain; billowing trees; swaying clumps of bamboo and ….yes, it's the forest, all right. These are the images that come before your mind's eye when you listen to the coy music that Rajeev's bamboo wind chime makes, when the breeze caresses it. Low pitched and like a congregation of flautists met up to exchange notes, the wind chimes take you to a primordial era, when time stands still, worries disintegrate into nothingness…that is, if you give yourself a chance to be alone and close your eyes.
There are wind chimes and wind chimes. Some that are so high pitched that you won't need much persuading to bring it down after a few days. There are others that cause a near pandemonium when confronted with wind.
Forest as neighbour
“Metal wind chimes don't give you this feel, that is a sort of metallic clang,” says Rajeev V.K., of Thattekkanni, beyond Neriamangalam, for whom the forests and bamboo are part of life, “living next to the forest.” Crafting things out of bamboo had always been his hobby, but Rajeev got a Diploma in Telecommunications from the Polytechnic Institute, as part of a game plan to equip himself better to face life. Being totally disinterested in the subject, he called it quits after a few teaching assignments and got back once again to his organic surroundings and pet love, namely bamboo.
“I researched for five years going by the trial and error method and came up with this method of making a bamboo wind chime,” Rajeev reminisces. Bamboo wind chimes are common in China and Bali.
Spiritual aspect
The spiritual aspects of the wind chime have not been explored in many places as it's done in China perhaps. While in China, it is a symbol of peace, prosperity and harmony, in Bali, where they make very good ones they are used during rituals and also to scare away birds in the rice fields. Tuned wind chimes are not that common, though.
Tuned? Yes, you have to tune them to get the right sounds and vibes. This one that Rajeev holds is a labour of love. First, the right type of bamboo has to be found in the forest and harvested properly. There are many kinds of bamboos and only certain species produce the desired sounds, as in the making of flutes.
Knowhow
“Many do not have the knowhow to cut it correctly, without damage. One has to know which bamboos are matured enough too. It has to be at least one and a half years old, when it is just ripe for harvesting. It has to be self dried,” explains Rajeev. After cutting it right, it has to be smoked for five days so that the water content in it evaporates.
And then begins the real work. After shaping each bamboo (he uses six in a wind chime, the primitive number is that, he insists), the tuning is laboriously done. Chipping off tiny particles of bamboo or layers thinner than a hair, he has to listen to the sound produced intently to see if it is the right tone and pitch. “One wrong move and that bamboo goes into the dust bin,” says Rajeev, describing his work.
Coconut shells
His wind chimes look like the Balinese ones, but he does not drill holes into the bamboos. They are carved with a curve at the top and small pieces of coconut shells help in producing the right notes. They also ensure a longer life for the wind chime, Rajeev says. Strong black thread holds them all together. At the top also, one half of a coconut shell, polished with care, holds the wind chime in place, with a wooden piece in the middle, the striker, which is the pivot that plays the director of the show.
You can even make a raga-based wind chime, says Rajeev, explaining how: “I have made a few in Mohanam, as that is a raga that is associated with happiness and can be sung at any time of the day. Not all bamboos can be used for this. Only rarely do I come across the right type in the forest. Tuning them is difficult as you have to get each ‘swara' of that raga in the same pitch, on each bamboo, for which very careful tuning is needed. And when it is ready, and the wind blows, imagine the combos of ‘manodharmas' in Mohanam that the wind chime produces,” says Rajeev, thoroughly excited.
“Recently, a Czech sound therapist came to my house to see my wind chimes and said they are stress busters, as they relax you.”
Rajeev recommends that the wind chime be hung somewhere where there's light and air, but not outdoors as bamboo is bio-degradable. Hanging it in an air-conditioned room is also not advisable, not only because there is no wind there, but the cold will kill the bamboo. His improved wind chimes are guaranteed to last ten years, he says.
The one worry that haunts Rajeev is that he has yet to find someone who has the patience to learn how to make these wind chimes from him. “I do not mass produce them. I can make just five a month and I am happy with what I get. I will not compromise on quality,” he says.
Research mode
Depending on the size, the prices vary. The one he holds is big and costs around Rs. 4,500, and he has bookings for the whole of this year and more.
And Rajeev is still in research mode, trying to make them better and better and bring in the spiritual element to it.
By Prema Manmadhan
It's dark; rain; billowing trees; swaying clumps of bamboo and ….yes, it's the forest, all right. These are the images that come before your mind's eye when you listen to the coy music that Rajeev's bamboo wind chime makes, when the breeze caresses it. Low pitched and like a congregation of flautists met up to exchange notes, the wind chimes take you to a primordial era, when time stands still, worries disintegrate into nothingness…that is, if you give yourself a chance to be alone and close your eyes.
There are wind chimes and wind chimes. Some that are so high pitched that you won't need much persuading to bring it down after a few days. There are others that cause a near pandemonium when confronted with wind.
Forest as neighbour
“Metal wind chimes don't give you this feel, that is a sort of metallic clang,” says Rajeev V.K., of Thattekkanni, beyond Neriamangalam, for whom the forests and bamboo are part of life, “living next to the forest.” Crafting things out of bamboo had always been his hobby, but Rajeev got a Diploma in Telecommunications from the Polytechnic Institute, as part of a game plan to equip himself better to face life. Being totally disinterested in the subject, he called it quits after a few teaching assignments and got back once again to his organic surroundings and pet love, namely bamboo.
“I researched for five years going by the trial and error method and came up with this method of making a bamboo wind chime,” Rajeev reminisces. Bamboo wind chimes are common in China and Bali.
Spiritual aspect
The spiritual aspects of the wind chime have not been explored in many places as it's done in China perhaps. While in China, it is a symbol of peace, prosperity and harmony, in Bali, where they make very good ones they are used during rituals and also to scare away birds in the rice fields. Tuned wind chimes are not that common, though.
Tuned? Yes, you have to tune them to get the right sounds and vibes. This one that Rajeev holds is a labour of love. First, the right type of bamboo has to be found in the forest and harvested properly. There are many kinds of bamboos and only certain species produce the desired sounds, as in the making of flutes.
Knowhow
“Many do not have the knowhow to cut it correctly, without damage. One has to know which bamboos are matured enough too. It has to be at least one and a half years old, when it is just ripe for harvesting. It has to be self dried,” explains Rajeev. After cutting it right, it has to be smoked for five days so that the water content in it evaporates.
And then begins the real work. After shaping each bamboo (he uses six in a wind chime, the primitive number is that, he insists), the tuning is laboriously done. Chipping off tiny particles of bamboo or layers thinner than a hair, he has to listen to the sound produced intently to see if it is the right tone and pitch. “One wrong move and that bamboo goes into the dust bin,” says Rajeev, describing his work.
Coconut shells
His wind chimes look like the Balinese ones, but he does not drill holes into the bamboos. They are carved with a curve at the top and small pieces of coconut shells help in producing the right notes. They also ensure a longer life for the wind chime, Rajeev says. Strong black thread holds them all together. At the top also, one half of a coconut shell, polished with care, holds the wind chime in place, with a wooden piece in the middle, the striker, which is the pivot that plays the director of the show.
You can even make a raga-based wind chime, says Rajeev, explaining how: “I have made a few in Mohanam, as that is a raga that is associated with happiness and can be sung at any time of the day. Not all bamboos can be used for this. Only rarely do I come across the right type in the forest. Tuning them is difficult as you have to get each ‘swara' of that raga in the same pitch, on each bamboo, for which very careful tuning is needed. And when it is ready, and the wind blows, imagine the combos of ‘manodharmas' in Mohanam that the wind chime produces,” says Rajeev, thoroughly excited.
“Recently, a Czech sound therapist came to my house to see my wind chimes and said they are stress busters, as they relax you.”
Rajeev recommends that the wind chime be hung somewhere where there's light and air, but not outdoors as bamboo is bio-degradable. Hanging it in an air-conditioned room is also not advisable, not only because there is no wind there, but the cold will kill the bamboo. His improved wind chimes are guaranteed to last ten years, he says.
The one worry that haunts Rajeev is that he has yet to find someone who has the patience to learn how to make these wind chimes from him. “I do not mass produce them. I can make just five a month and I am happy with what I get. I will not compromise on quality,” he says.
Research mode
Depending on the size, the prices vary. The one he holds is big and costs around Rs. 4,500, and he has bookings for the whole of this year and more.
And Rajeev is still in research mode, trying to make them better and better and bring in the spiritual element to it.
In the land of Khasak again
(This was published in the Hindu Metro PLus on April 2)
By Prema Manmadhan
Artists and friends got together to pay tribute to the enigmatic O. V. Vijayan on his sixth death anniversary
From Palakkad, he gravitated to the capital, where he spent a great chunk of his professional time and in the evening of his life, O. V. Vijayan made Kottayam his home for a short time, before moving to Hyderabad which turned out to be the last place he lived in. That was exactly six years ago. But he always belonged to Kerala, in his works, in his mind and in his very being, for one does not forget one's childhood and mother tongue.
And on March 30, they were there, all those who knew the thespian at some point in his life, despite the World Cup, on the sixth death anniversary of cartoonist-writer-thinker O.V.Vijayan. The mood at Nanappa Gallery at Orthic Creative Centre in the city was nostalgic, the crowd ready to pay homage to a man who never really got the recognition he deserved, for he always lay low, with a pronounced dislike for attention: An introvert extraordinaire. The visual media made him uncomfortable.
Memories abound
The four walls of the gallery had everything that T. Kaladharan, the organiser, could muster in a short time: Framed photostat copies of Vijayan's published cartoons, all that hit the nail right on the head, paintings that depicted either the cartoonist-writer or the characters in his famous novels and even three sculptures. The Cartoon Academy rose to the occasion and collected a good number of Vijayan's all-time great cartoons, from the time of the language agitation in 1958, one which had the words, ‘linguisticks' in it, to the ones in the Emergency and where EMS features, also from the pre-split days of the CPI. A study of these could give the new generation an idea of the standard of cartoons in those days and also more than flashes of brilliance in the department of cartoons. A sizeable number of the Academy's members drew sketches of Vijayan too.
At the gathering a few remembered their associations with him and two short documentaries, by K. M. Madhusoodan and Jyothiprakash were shown, dwelling much on the writer's seminal work, ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam', which became even bigger than the writer himself. Manarcadu Mathew, who knew Vijayan for many years, was the chief guest. He spoke of the days he had a professional relationship with him at first and later it turned personal, when he met him many times in Delhi, where he used to live. K.N.Shaji, freelance journalist, said he used to meet Vijayan almost every day at one point of his life, while in Delhi. “He welcomed me, a young man with no job, with the same exuberance as he would a notable personality. We would sit and chat for long. I would have dinner in his house and leave…I learnt so much from a man who lived by his own rules,” he said.
Somananathan Nair (Nadhan) remembered how, as a young man, he was drawing for ‘Shankar's Weekly' and got in touch with Vijayan to get some advice. “He wrote me many letters giving me tips and commenting on cartoons and cartoonists so that I could learn more. He was the best in those days and I was just starting, sometime in the early seventies and yet, he took time to write to me. I have just one letter with me now,” he said and read it out to the gathering. One of the four cardinal rules, he had advised Nadhan, was not to oversimplify a cartoon. That is the essence of all Vijayan cartoons, you realise. The letter contained bold remarks about the famous cartoonists of the period apart from clear instructions on how to improve the drawings. Prasannan Anikkad also spoke.
The characters in ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam' came to life in some paintings. Artist Namboodiri's sketch brought out much more than the man's physical appearance. K. K. Rajappan, K. P. Soman, C. S, Jayaram, Kaladharan and P.V.Krishnan are the senior artists on show. Three of the paintings were based on ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam', the old house in Pramod Korampala's work, in K. M. Narayanan's painting and Appukkili in C. R. Manmadhan's work. A few were based on ‘Kadaltheeram', Vijayan's story. Unni, Keshav, Jayachandran, Ajoy, Dinesh R Shenoy, Varghese Kalathil, Binuraj, Rajeev, Sherin Satheesh, Satheesh Babu, T.V.G. Menon, Sajjive, Prasannan Anikkad, Sudhirnath, K. M. Narayanan are the others whose works or photocopies of works are here.
Little known facts
Little known facts about Vijayan were exchanged among the people at the meeting, that he was scared of spiders, though everyone knew how much he loved cats.
This writer was his neighbour for some time, while he lived in Kottayam. He told me then that his next novel (that never happened), ‘Padmatheertham', was all ready in his mind and it just needed to be transferred on to paper. It died with him. He had never used a computer and never ever got to see the number of pages that came on screen if his name was Googled. When this fact was conveyed to him, he looked up, astonished, wondering how it could be possible. He used his pen lavishly in his last years because of his disability to speak and would write a comment as and when he wanted to express something while watching a TV programme. And that equalled a cartoon, always.
And he loved fish curry, the man who contributed so much to the printed word and drawing but never ever got what he deserved in the world of letters.
By Prema Manmadhan
Artists and friends got together to pay tribute to the enigmatic O. V. Vijayan on his sixth death anniversary
From Palakkad, he gravitated to the capital, where he spent a great chunk of his professional time and in the evening of his life, O. V. Vijayan made Kottayam his home for a short time, before moving to Hyderabad which turned out to be the last place he lived in. That was exactly six years ago. But he always belonged to Kerala, in his works, in his mind and in his very being, for one does not forget one's childhood and mother tongue.
And on March 30, they were there, all those who knew the thespian at some point in his life, despite the World Cup, on the sixth death anniversary of cartoonist-writer-thinker O.V.Vijayan. The mood at Nanappa Gallery at Orthic Creative Centre in the city was nostalgic, the crowd ready to pay homage to a man who never really got the recognition he deserved, for he always lay low, with a pronounced dislike for attention: An introvert extraordinaire. The visual media made him uncomfortable.
Memories abound
The four walls of the gallery had everything that T. Kaladharan, the organiser, could muster in a short time: Framed photostat copies of Vijayan's published cartoons, all that hit the nail right on the head, paintings that depicted either the cartoonist-writer or the characters in his famous novels and even three sculptures. The Cartoon Academy rose to the occasion and collected a good number of Vijayan's all-time great cartoons, from the time of the language agitation in 1958, one which had the words, ‘linguisticks' in it, to the ones in the Emergency and where EMS features, also from the pre-split days of the CPI. A study of these could give the new generation an idea of the standard of cartoons in those days and also more than flashes of brilliance in the department of cartoons. A sizeable number of the Academy's members drew sketches of Vijayan too.
At the gathering a few remembered their associations with him and two short documentaries, by K. M. Madhusoodan and Jyothiprakash were shown, dwelling much on the writer's seminal work, ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam', which became even bigger than the writer himself. Manarcadu Mathew, who knew Vijayan for many years, was the chief guest. He spoke of the days he had a professional relationship with him at first and later it turned personal, when he met him many times in Delhi, where he used to live. K.N.Shaji, freelance journalist, said he used to meet Vijayan almost every day at one point of his life, while in Delhi. “He welcomed me, a young man with no job, with the same exuberance as he would a notable personality. We would sit and chat for long. I would have dinner in his house and leave…I learnt so much from a man who lived by his own rules,” he said.
Somananathan Nair (Nadhan) remembered how, as a young man, he was drawing for ‘Shankar's Weekly' and got in touch with Vijayan to get some advice. “He wrote me many letters giving me tips and commenting on cartoons and cartoonists so that I could learn more. He was the best in those days and I was just starting, sometime in the early seventies and yet, he took time to write to me. I have just one letter with me now,” he said and read it out to the gathering. One of the four cardinal rules, he had advised Nadhan, was not to oversimplify a cartoon. That is the essence of all Vijayan cartoons, you realise. The letter contained bold remarks about the famous cartoonists of the period apart from clear instructions on how to improve the drawings. Prasannan Anikkad also spoke.
The characters in ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam' came to life in some paintings. Artist Namboodiri's sketch brought out much more than the man's physical appearance. K. K. Rajappan, K. P. Soman, C. S, Jayaram, Kaladharan and P.V.Krishnan are the senior artists on show. Three of the paintings were based on ‘Khazakkinte Ithihasam', the old house in Pramod Korampala's work, in K. M. Narayanan's painting and Appukkili in C. R. Manmadhan's work. A few were based on ‘Kadaltheeram', Vijayan's story. Unni, Keshav, Jayachandran, Ajoy, Dinesh R Shenoy, Varghese Kalathil, Binuraj, Rajeev, Sherin Satheesh, Satheesh Babu, T.V.G. Menon, Sajjive, Prasannan Anikkad, Sudhirnath, K. M. Narayanan are the others whose works or photocopies of works are here.
Little known facts
Little known facts about Vijayan were exchanged among the people at the meeting, that he was scared of spiders, though everyone knew how much he loved cats.
This writer was his neighbour for some time, while he lived in Kottayam. He told me then that his next novel (that never happened), ‘Padmatheertham', was all ready in his mind and it just needed to be transferred on to paper. It died with him. He had never used a computer and never ever got to see the number of pages that came on screen if his name was Googled. When this fact was conveyed to him, he looked up, astonished, wondering how it could be possible. He used his pen lavishly in his last years because of his disability to speak and would write a comment as and when he wanted to express something while watching a TV programme. And that equalled a cartoon, always.
And he loved fish curry, the man who contributed so much to the printed word and drawing but never ever got what he deserved in the world of letters.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Urumi Review
Musings of a cineaste after the first day, first show of ‘Urumi', (Published in The Hindu Metro Plus, Kochi, on April 4)
Prithviraj has a vision, which he professes at every opportunity, that he will one day be the ambassador of Malayalam cinema and through him Malayalam cinema will get its due. ‘Urumi' could well be his first effort in that direction to fulfil his dream. Mani Ratnam's ‘Raavanan' paved the road for him to do it and here he is, with August Cinema's ‘Urumi'.
August Cinema's CEO is Mallika Sukumaran, say the credits. Homage is paid to Sukumaran before the movie begins as also to another producer's father, Nadesan. Sukumaran would certainly have been proud of his younger son. Santhosh Sivan, who dons a producer's, cinematographer's and director's robes, wears one for far too long.
Guess which robe? The cinematographer's of course. If you compare ‘Ananthabhadram', ‘Raavanan' and ‘Urumi', you can see the same pair of eyes looking through the camera.
As to who won the toss, the director or cameraman in ‘Urumi', again, the cameraman triumphs! For ‘Urumi' is eye candy…eye candy..eye candy supreme. Watching the movie in a multiplex gets you all the comments, honest and unafraid ones. The visuals floor you; all comments are united on that score.
There is the sea from several offbeat angles, the cave also lighted by torches with the light and shade playing, mountains and village locales, tribal men and women, animals and birds, namely the Manila duck, a parrot, horses, cows and buffaloes.
The colours are so much in harmony, earthy and natural green, and the costumes, few and classy (close ups are few). In fact, Prithviraj's costumes, very few, are natural and suit him.
There are just a handful of scenes in which Prithviraj Sukumaran does not appear. Muscles ripple and fight scenes abound, a la Crouching Tiger style. Prabhu Deva's is a comic character, the second longest after Prithviraj's. No, there are no dance scenes. Genelia D'Souza, who has the longest female role, tries her hand at kalaripayattu and makes bold attempts to look extremely serious about her persona. But in one of the roles she plays, (yes, several actors play double roles, one group in the past and the same group in the present) she is very much at home, that of a mentally deranged girl. Vidya Balan's much hyped item number is tastefully captured, except for one or two crude shots.
And Tabu? Your heart bleeds for the actor, who can hardly be recognised in that guest appearance. Nithya Menon is charming, sexy and cute, in turns. Jagathy, Arya and a host of small screen actors, who come in and go off in a few minutes at the beginning, do well. Deepak Dev's music is different. Only snatches of songs are picturised in some scenes, which go down well with the audience,
Sexual innuendos abound in Shankar Ramakrishnan's dialogues. More overt than covert. All in chaste language.
How many issues can one film hold? ‘Urumi' has environment, history (?), land mafia, love et al. If you don't take the history part too seriously, you will enjoy the movie, thoroughly, like a lovely fairy tale. But does anything stay in your heart, post ‘Urumi'? Prithviraj's flowing costumes did, in mine.
Prithviraj has a vision, which he professes at every opportunity, that he will one day be the ambassador of Malayalam cinema and through him Malayalam cinema will get its due. ‘Urumi' could well be his first effort in that direction to fulfil his dream. Mani Ratnam's ‘Raavanan' paved the road for him to do it and here he is, with August Cinema's ‘Urumi'.
August Cinema's CEO is Mallika Sukumaran, say the credits. Homage is paid to Sukumaran before the movie begins as also to another producer's father, Nadesan. Sukumaran would certainly have been proud of his younger son. Santhosh Sivan, who dons a producer's, cinematographer's and director's robes, wears one for far too long.
Guess which robe? The cinematographer's of course. If you compare ‘Ananthabhadram', ‘Raavanan' and ‘Urumi', you can see the same pair of eyes looking through the camera.
As to who won the toss, the director or cameraman in ‘Urumi', again, the cameraman triumphs! For ‘Urumi' is eye candy…eye candy..eye candy supreme. Watching the movie in a multiplex gets you all the comments, honest and unafraid ones. The visuals floor you; all comments are united on that score.
There is the sea from several offbeat angles, the cave also lighted by torches with the light and shade playing, mountains and village locales, tribal men and women, animals and birds, namely the Manila duck, a parrot, horses, cows and buffaloes.
The colours are so much in harmony, earthy and natural green, and the costumes, few and classy (close ups are few). In fact, Prithviraj's costumes, very few, are natural and suit him.
There are just a handful of scenes in which Prithviraj Sukumaran does not appear. Muscles ripple and fight scenes abound, a la Crouching Tiger style. Prabhu Deva's is a comic character, the second longest after Prithviraj's. No, there are no dance scenes. Genelia D'Souza, who has the longest female role, tries her hand at kalaripayattu and makes bold attempts to look extremely serious about her persona. But in one of the roles she plays, (yes, several actors play double roles, one group in the past and the same group in the present) she is very much at home, that of a mentally deranged girl. Vidya Balan's much hyped item number is tastefully captured, except for one or two crude shots.
And Tabu? Your heart bleeds for the actor, who can hardly be recognised in that guest appearance. Nithya Menon is charming, sexy and cute, in turns. Jagathy, Arya and a host of small screen actors, who come in and go off in a few minutes at the beginning, do well. Deepak Dev's music is different. Only snatches of songs are picturised in some scenes, which go down well with the audience,
Sexual innuendos abound in Shankar Ramakrishnan's dialogues. More overt than covert. All in chaste language.
How many issues can one film hold? ‘Urumi' has environment, history (?), land mafia, love et al. If you don't take the history part too seriously, you will enjoy the movie, thoroughly, like a lovely fairy tale. But does anything stay in your heart, post ‘Urumi'? Prithviraj's flowing costumes did, in mine.
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