Apoorva Sagodharargal (1989)… still the pinnacle of Kollywood masala

Baradwaj Rangan published this article of mine in his blog. Super thrilled!

April 14 is the Tamil New Year's day. It does not change every year. And ever since its release on the Tamil New Year’s day of 1989, Apoorva Sagodharargal too hasn’t changed its position as the best-ever Kollywood masala. And here’s why…

It is just a plain old revenge drama with a simple premise - two long-separated brothers come together to avenge their father's killing. Can it get simpler? The film deploys the usual tools of masala that are available to a mainstream film maker - mother sentiment, pregnant lady sentiment, love tragedy, brutal killings, rich girl-poor boy romance, comedy, deadly villains, funny cops, good songs and stunts, and finally a happy end. The characters are either black or white. There are no grey shades to transcend the script. No unexpected twist anywhere. It is a very straightforward narration. Still what a magic on screen! 

The movie has a placid start with a close shot of a duck in an idyllic village, only to throw us onto a racy trajectory with a jeep ripping through a thatched hut like an arrow tearing a tender heart. The action block goes on with the father-police inspector Sethupathy (Kamal Hassan No.1) stealing the limelight - behaving like a roaring lion with the foursome villains and at once turning into a naughty kitten with his pregnant wife (Srividya). Very soon, within a matter of 12 minutes, everything is over: Comedy icon Nagesh gets established as a barbaric villain with a sharp humour, a star from the yester years ‘James Bond’ Jaishankar joins him; the villains are arrested and disgraced by Sethupathy; but court acquits all of them while throwing the upright inspector out of job; it is the villain team’s turn and they ravage the beautiful couple within moments after the couple had shared some lovely moments; Sethupathy is killed mercilessly right in front of his heavily pregnant wife; and the title credits keep rolling as the poisoned, pregnant widow escapes on a boat, with maestro Ilayaraja giving out one of his best background scores.

Only a few other movies have reached this level of screenplay in establishing so much, so tightly, in just about a dozen opening minutes. Even the sheet anchor scenes of Thalapathi (1991) shot in black and white - of a teenage, unwed mother abandoning her just born baby in one of the open bogies of a goods train; the baby being rescued by some kids only to be accidentally let to float in a stream; and soon the baby being regained from the flowing water and he growing up into a dejected, angry little boy with a single question that resonates throughout the movie 'Why did my mother abandon me?'' - that run for the initial ten minutes as the titles roll, and which are equally backed by Ilayaraja's masterpiece melody, are a shade lesser than that of Apoorva Sagodharargal’sprelude scenes. 

Into the story, after lots of fun and a love tragedy, the mother reveals their brutal past to Appu (Kamal Hassan No.2) who just tried to commit suicide; and the dwarf-clown instantaneously decides to take revenge. Bloody scenes of Sethupathy getting killed are intercut here reminding us the brutality. And for Appu it is not just about avenging his father’s killing, it is also about eliminating those who were responsible for his stunted growth which gives a constant reason for others to mock at him. It is just smart writing by Kamal Hassan. But a single thought lingers in our minds - how is this little clown going to hit back at the four villains who were nothing less than devils. May be Raja could have pulled it off. But not this dwarf! Interval is something peculiar to our masala films. It is not easy to break the standard three-part story structure and create an interval block in the first place; and thereafter make it compelling too; riveting enough to make the audience finish their coffee and cigarettes quickly and get back to their seats filled with anticipation and curiosity. Apoorva Sagodharargal pulls it off in style. 

The second half is about how the Lilliputian goes about killing the villains - using novel, believable but essentially cruel methods. But the movie carries itself so well that we do not watch those gory scenes through our fingers. We kind of relish them. Sample this: of all things in the world, to kill his second target Appu uses his circus tiger to tear up the man into pieces. (Wait, wait… lions are reserved for the climax.) This scene of an extremely cruel murder transforms smoothly into a peppy number with the car mechanic Raja (Kamal Hassan No.3) performing puli vesham (tiger costume) folk dance. And in between this quick and enjoyable transition is ample humour by Janakaraj, as the investigating inspector and his sidekick constable, Sambandham. Neenga engeyo poiteenga sir! And Kamal Haasan, the ingenuous script writer, in an attempt to achieve the desired scene shift with flair, has also used 2-D animation here. It is funny, it is creative. 

In the scenes in and around Appu's love failure, the actor Kamal and the maestro compete terrifically with each other. These are a set of rare scenes in cinema, that work equally good - without audio or without video. Even when you mute the music and just watch the film, the actor's sheer brilliance makes you cry for Appu whose soul gets shredded into pieces by the tragic end of his love. Well, you have the same effect even when you close your eyes and simply let yourself get immersed in the heart wrenching melody. It is like two superior players easily winning the match on their own, yet preferring to come together - not just to win, but to create history. But not that the dialog writer ‘Crazy’ Mohan was just a mute spectator here. The humour played out in this very tragic scene is unmissable. The marriage registration officer mocks at the dwarf Appu, only to be sort of defended by Appu saying that he was 27 years of age (basically, a man and not a kid). The officer mocks and laughs out, ‘Yedhu.. andha irupathi aarukku appuram varumey.. andha irupathi yezhaa?!’ What a pain. What a humour. The writing and dialogs puts you in quite a few tight spots like this where you are at a loss to understand your own state of mind. It happens when pain and joy blend, when comedy and tragedy dance together. 

Lyricist Vaali's versatility is legendary. In Apoorva Sagodharargal he proves his worth hands down. Sample this: Andha vaanam azhudhathaan indha boomiyey sirikkum.. oozing with pain, a sinking heart. Vazhavaikkum kaadhalukku jey! Vaalibathin paadalukku jey!.. pumping love and joy, carefree souls. The visuals too match the high quality of lyrics and music. It is quite interesting to see a dapper Raja dancing his intro song in the shop floor of an automobile factory filled with rows of newly minted cars and trendy girls. The biggest dream of a small time car mechanic, possibly. The same goes for vazhavaikkum song that is made a part of the story, rather than just existing in empty space. Perhaps it is the only full-fledged duet song in Tamil film history that features a dead body too!

The movie never loses sight of its 5-song/5-fight format of a mainstream masala. After all the story was by the legendary Panchu Arunachalam, the man to whom Kollywood owes half its wealth. But the film demonstrates the possibilities in store when an A-team decides to create something unique and more importantly - when all of its A-rated members fly in unison. This is not a movie where you can easily point out, "The music is wonderful!" and rest. With this movie, you cannot leave out P.C.Sriram when talking about Ilayaraja; you cannot miss ‘Crazy’ Mohan when mentioning about the scriptwriter Kamal Hassan or the lyricist. The same with the actors like the inspector Janakaraj, mother Manorama and the villain team that includes the Kamal-regulars like Nasser and Delhi Ganesh. That is the beauty of Apoorva Sagodharargal. It is quite a task to dissect a scene and say authoritatively who has excelled. We get a wholesome, new cinema experience. And that is what the team set out to deliver.

But if I were to single out a person who raises above the rest, it is probably the cinematographer P.C.Sriram. Appu looked like a dwarf; he was a dwarf! No animatics, no 3D modelling, no roto. Sheer old-fashioned camera tricks, real hard work and some great ideas. Yes, the DOP had a solid support from the actor and the editor duo B.Lenin and V.T.Vijayan. But the brain of the movie ultimately is P.C. An angle missed here or there would have made the entire movie like a high school stage drama. (Remember SRK from Hero? Well…) Even to this day, the making of Apoorva Sagodharargal awes everyone around, it continues to be enigmatic. 

Great movies are made bottom-up and it requires an able hand to weave the individual threads of artistic brilliance into a magnificent cinematic experience. Hats off to director Singeetam Srinivasa Rao. It is not easy to manage talent. It is extremely difficult to manage extraordinary talent. Luckily, the project was in very safe hands. Over the years hordes of heavy weight masala films have hit the screens; like the corruption-based Shankar brand of block busters, village-based K.S.Ravikumar creations, P.Vasu class of pictures and A.R.Murugadoss and Atlee style of well packaged super hits. What is a masala movie? It is not easy to define. What is a successful masala? Even tougher to describe. But whatever it may mean, Apoorva Sagodharargal is the most successful masala of Kollywood since its release; the run continues even into the Tamil New Year of 2020.

(Bonus 1 - A deleted song ‘Ammava Naan..’ from the film is on Youtube.)

(P.S. - It is good for the film that Bahubali was not made in Tamil.)

Here is the link to my earlier piece on the film. I wrote it five years ago. 

Five years of OK Kanmani

An improved version of this article was published in Film Companion. . .What is more exciting is that the article was chosen for publication by Baradwaj Rangan, Editor, Film Companion (South), a winner of the Best Film Critic National Award and above all an authority on Mani Ratnam.

O Kadhal Kanmani (Apr, 2015) ended the legendary Mani Ratnam’s 15-year long dry spell in Kollywood. The film maker had touched new lows consistently with back to back creations in the form of Ravanan and Kadal. While Ravanan was pardonable as it was essentially a slice from the classic Ramayanam, Kadal was a mutation that went wrong — a new species that did not know how and why it got created in the first place. The world could have been a better place without that. In short, Kadal was an evolutionary confusion. And it was then, much to our relief, OK Kanmani sprouted from the primordial Mani Ratnam material

What is the most used thing in a Mani Ratnam film? Yes, mirror. What is the next one? Of course, train. In the very first scene of Kanmani we see a train chugging into the Mumbai’s CST; hero Aditya (a refreshingly urban Dulquer Salmaan) arrives; right then through the gaps in the coaches of moving trains he notices the heroine Tara (a bubbly Nithya Menen) almost on the verge of jumping in front of an oncoming train. Tara just had a spat with her boyfriend. It was about their marriage. With P.C.Sreeram joining hands with the director, again after a gap of fifteen years, the beautifully shot scene directly places us inside the Mani Ratnam kingdom. Well yes, the eyes too meet through the gaps in the moving trains.

Who is a cryptologist? While the normal guys are intimidated by the term, Mani Ratnam fans love a cryptologist, who is basically someone like Avind Swamy in Roja. Now it is the turn to introduce another new job position in Kollywood — a video game developer. (Detour: My earliest memory of an on screen video game developer is from 101 Dalmatians, 1996) If Karthik (Alaipayuthey) could be a software engineer in the dotcom times of 2000, Adi should be a video game developer in 2015. Simple. Linear career progression. But it works. And what is the game that he develops? Mumbai 2.0. (Mani 2.0?) Desi game, for desi kids. And the game too starts in a Mumbai local train. By then Kanmani is already an overdose of the familiar Mani Ratnam delicacies. But that is what we had been craving for. Hang on, soon just like in Alaipayuthey, the hero-heroine meeting happens in a wedding. And within moments they talk about their idea of love, marriage, family and life — in a few short sentences. 

The first ‘Mani Ratnam Film’ as in ‘a Mani Ratnam Film’ was Mouna Raagam. Released in the year 1986 the film held a mirror to the tradition of arranged or forced marriage that is a common practice even now. The story is about the how a lady who gets pushed into a married life struggles; and how she goes on to find love and meaning in her new role as a wife. Though her husband is a nice guy, she starts off with a divorce notice — but ends up getting transformed into a caring wife. It is about nice people finding the right perspectives and getting nice to each other under one roof. . . Happily ever after! Mouna Raagam was a huge hit, and in fact the film gave us ‘Mani Ratnam’. After successfully venturing out in a variety of subjects like underworld, biopic, patriotic stuff, kids drama and Kollywood masala, in his own trademark style, the film maker got back to his ‘nice people getting nice to each other’ mould with Alaipayuthey. While Mouna Raagam explored the subject of arranged marriage, Alaipayuthey was about love marriages. It showed even love marriages could get screwed up badly if the love and care gets lost down the line. Love marriage or arranged marriage, only love wins. (But the final destination was always a marriage.)

Again venturing out in different genres in Kollywood, mostly without success, the emperor struck back with OK Kanmani. This time too, only love won. But adapting to the times, rather than exploring ‘love’ and how it should be made to work in the tradition of wedlock, Kanmani finds a sweet spot in ‘live-in’ relations. Mani 2.0. Live-in relation was not something new to Tamil cinema. If you think of it, the concept of live-in was embedded in Apoorva Raganagal (1975). Stretching too far? Okay, but no one can deny it was a live-in relation in Karthik Subburaj’s debut Pizza (2012). But with the magical touch of Mani Ratnam the idea of live-in got fancier and more mainstream. 

Kanmani is replete with the usual seemingly quirky dialogues and beautiful ‘romance scenes’ that have been the director’s forte. Can’t help but awe that he had maintained his brand over the decades; the golden touch, with regular updates. Just watch the trailer of the film and you will get a hint of what I am talking about. In the lines just after they make out for the first time, the lady asks: Enna pudichirukka..?..illa indha kasa-musa thaana? He says: Kasa-musa pudichiruku.. atha thaandi unnayum konjam. Just konjam! Onnu-aaru rooba pudichirukku..  Can you believe it? 

The contour of the screenplay too is set up wisely. Firstly, the basic concept of ‘live-in’ is explained (to Vasudevan played by Prakash Raj, representing the old generation), then a character belonging to the middle age-generation (Saroja, sister-in-law of the hero) opposes the concept, then we have the gen-z (Tara and her friend) discuss the dos-and-don’ts of a live-in and the final part of the screenplay — resolves the complex intersection of love-wedding-individuality without turning preachy. 

The film was loaded with the film maker’s trademark elements of strong female characters, beautiful romance, tasteful visuals, wonderful songs and music, bold and enjoyable scenes, two-word dialogues, mirrors, trains and rain, songs that carry the story, dry wit and above all a ‘socially acceptable’ ending. That’s how OK Kanmani, brought us back the Mani Ratnam film we had been longing for since the year 2000. It was more like cherishing the pages of your college slam book or an old photo album — remastered. May be it was Mani Ratnam’s modern day interpretation of his own Alaipayuthey. Plainly, just an intelligent rehash of his own earlier works. But whatever it was — O Kadhal Kanmani was a thorough entertainer. A whiff of fresh air. 

Raghuvaran — Why The Spot He Occupied In Tamil Cinema Is Still Vacant?

(This piece was published in Film Companion)

My oldest memories of the lanky actor with a distinctive voice, Raghuvaran (1958– 2008), are from the films Makkal en pakkam (1987), Poo vizhi Vasalile (1987) and Puriyaatha pudhir (1990) of the ‘I know.. I know’-fame. In the film Raghuvaran is a sadistic, doubting husband and in a situation he thinks he has caught his wife off-guard. Now, for the film maker there are very direct and good options here. The easiest of them is to make the husband lecture about our value system, get violent towards the wife or even kill the guy. But that is ordinary writing for actors with normal talents. But with Raghuvaran the entire scene running for about two minutes gets elevated with just two words — ‘I know..’ It is said while a musician communicates feelings through the instrument he is playing, a dancer through body movement, the ‘instrument’ that an actor is using is himself (Making Movies by Sidney Lumet). Raghuvaran demonstrated that. 

In Samsaram adhu minsaram (1986), Raghuvaran as Chidambaram the eldest son, was pitted against the veteran Visu playing Ammaiappan Mudaliar, the patriarch of a typical Indian middle class family. The film had a host of characters. But the story conflicts were created around the Raghuvaran-Visu duo. It was an equal fight and Raghuvaran shone bright. By then the actor was a bankable character artist though his career was leaning more towards the villain end of the spectrum.

Mani Ratnam’s Anjali (1990) a family-kids’ drama surrounding a special child drew from the vast reservoirs of acting skills that Raghuvaran possessed. In the film as Sekhar, a nice guy who handles the emotional pain and love that the entry and exit of a special child with a terminal illness brings about in a family, Raghuvaran gave his trademark performance with much grace. But around the time, the actor’s image as a dangerous villain got cemented. Thanks to Ram Gopal Varma’s cult film Shiva (Telugu, 1989).

In the 90s though there were occasional gems like Aahaa..! (1998) that brought out the versatility of the actor, the decade marked the clear shift from Raghuvaran the character artist to Raghuvaran — the undisputed lord of the villains in Kollywood. It was also the time when the seasoned Nasser had peaked as the most hated villain in Kollywood with films like Thevar magan (1992) and Kuruthipunal (1995); and he not only started venturing into more varied roles like in Avvai Shanmugi, Bombay, Iruvar and Jeans but also turned a film director with Avatharam.  

During the decade Raghuvaran featured as the bad guy in big ticket films like Ratchagan, Shankar’s films like Kadhalan and Mudhalvan, and a few Rajnikanth films like Baasha, Arunachalam and Muthu. But he was not your regular villain that smokes a pipe, rapes hero’s sister, mouths a catchy phrase and finally gets killed by the hero. He was a villain who set the boundary limits of the hero; a villain who built the hero; and a villain who created a world for the heroes to rule. 

In the Superstar’s iconic Baasha (1995), as Mark Antony the actor catapulted Rajni’s stardom to an altogether new plane. The film renewed Rajnikanth’s cult status easily by 3–4 years till Padayappa almost came close to doing it again. Baasha was Manik Baasha only because Antony…Mark Antony was Raghuvaran.

Mudhalvan (1999) saw Raghuvaran play, unarguably, his best villain role. While Baasha was no less, but being a Rajni film it had its own constraints. Ultimately people poured into the theatres for Rajni alone. But with a lead artist like Arjun, and a fairy tale-type script that placed the corrupt and cunning chief minister Aranganathan central to its plot — Mudhalvan must have offered Raghuvaran a feast. A full meals to quench his hunger to perform strong characters; a challenge to harness his acting potential to the fullest. Raghuvaran (then about 40 years of age), with intelligent voice modulation and body language modifications, performed as a much older political leader. Again, an actor using his body as an instrument. The controversial interview in the film that sets the entire story in motion is among the most cherished scenes in Tamil films. And if you look the scene closely there was also Arjun as Pugazhendi. You tend to miss him— simply dazzled and overwhelmed by Raghuvaran-CM. (Not to take away credit from Pugazhendi, the newly-promoted journalist who was doing his first VIP interview.)

The 2000s saw the fading of Raghuvaran as an actor. The number of movies he did dwindled. The roles he bagged too were not the ones that he would have really wanted to do. Many roles did not need him either. But there were occasional exceptions like Run and Yaaradi nee Mohini (April 2008), released within a month after his untimely demise. During the decade Raghuvaran also did passable roles in a few mega budget films. But he always left his mark. Do you know Raghuvaran has acted in Rajnikanth’s Sivaji? It is also glaring that there was no (notable?) collaboration of Kamal Hassan with Raghuvaran. Plainly unfortunate for Tamil cinema; for us. 

Around this time Kollywood witnessed the meteoric rise of another gifted actor Prakash Raj. He seemed to be the new Raghuvaran on the block; a versatile actor capable of doing roles as varied as a legendary political leader (Iruvar) or a dreaded village goon (Ghilli) or a possessive father (Abhiyum naanum) with equal deft. Prakash Raj also sparkled in comedy films like Vasool Raja MBBS. 

But the position of a villain with exceptional craftsmanship and a unique voice is still vacant…

(Special thanks to Team FC editorial)