The Maniratnam I Once Loved

[JUSTIFY]
Having continuously watched a number of Maniratnam films in the past few days and having posted and even blogged about a few of them, there’s no denying that a constant thought seems to be lurking in my mind somewhere- where did the Maniratnam that I loved went?

It’s no secret that Maniratnam is one of the few directors I grow to respect and love. And though he became famous nation-wide through patriotic and political based films as in Roja, Bombay and Kannathil Muthammital, my personal and first knowledge of him were through his 80’s films.

I take the pleasure to announce that the year I was born also marked as the year Maniratnam came to the film industry. Yep, 1983- the year that saw the birth of a new and soon to be acclaimed director in the Tamil industry. But Tamil industry was not to see Mani’s entry until a year later for when Maniratnam made his debut in 1983, the film that he directed was in Kannada and not Tamil. I am talking about Pallavi Anupallavi starring a very young and charming Anil Kapoor alongside the angelic Lakshmi. The film was later dubbed as Priya Oh Priya in Tamil.

A year later he made Unaru in Malayalam and Pagal Nilavu in Tamil, both of which failed to become successful.

It took him a few years before he finally made it and man, how he made it BIG with Mouna Raagam! It was the film that my older sister loved and would continuously watch when she was a child, which resulted in me being a silent spectator of the same. In short, it was probably the first film that I watched in my entire life, only I was too young to decipher any of it at that point of time.

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Which explains why the film seems like something I’ve always known and feel connected to when I watched it again years later. Mouna Raagam is not just about having a strong female lead. I mean, Revathy probably became a name to be reckoned with after this film, but with all due respect, this is not about her. Mouna Raagam is about Maniratnam and how he brings to life the characters that we always seem to know and love.

When I think about the film today, I don’t think about how beautiful Revathy was in the film nor how cute her churidars or how cool her earrings were. What strike me the most about Revathy or rather Divya in the film, is how similar she was to most other girls. When I recall the scene where she sits by the roadside after the altercation with her dad, all I can say is, “Hey, I’ve done that!”

I can identify with the girl who would rather play in the rain than meet the unknown stranger who is set to marry her. I can understand why she was trying to push Karthik off whenever he turns up but silently smile and think about him whenever no one is looking. I can understand that she wanted to blame Mohan for the marriage- which is why she continuously chides him at every opportunity she gets. And I most certainly can understand her anger when Mohan leaves for work despite his injuries and her repeated pleas not to. In fact, in the part where she goes, “POngga! Poi, kaiyE udachikungga, kAle udachikungga! Ennakenna?” (Go away! Go and break your hands or legs, why should I care?), Divya seems to echo the very thought of most women whose words were neither listened nor appreciated.

Maniratnam doesn’t make strong female-oriented roles. No, that’s K.Balachander’s work. KB is the one who makes strong, liberated women roles whose family members depend solely on these women and men lusts after them. He makes women to seem so surreal, so unreachable, and even indestructible.

But, Maniratnam…well he makes the woman that we longed to be in real life. The woman that we know we can be in real life.

I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t want to walk alongside a hunk like Prabhu in the subway and go, “Enna thallikittu vandhutiya?” (Did you kidnap me?)

I'm pretty sure there are women who would be more than happy to pull pranks on their brothers whilst the latter romance their wives in the backyard. Or embarrass their grandmothers with awkward questions in public hospitals. Or even play hide and seek with their kids and hubby in the apartment complex.

Yes, none of the above-stated female characters were revolutionary. Nor were they out to prove how they were greater than their male counterparts. These were your everyday, lovely women that you can totally relate to. Women you find in your homes, in your office, in your classes, in your neighbourhood. And that’s what makes them special. Because they represent a part of you. When Revathy suspects her husband of infidelity, she doesn't try to seduce or win him back. Nor does she sit in a corner and cry for her bad luck in marriage. Instead, her first reaction was to pack her bags and head to her parents' place with her children...like any normal, vulnerable woman would do. Here, Mani was not trying to preach what married women should do if they happen to face similar circumstances in their lives. No, that's not Mani- he doesn't teach us to do things, he doesn't preach and he most certainly doesn't judge us. He just presents characters and make us feel, "Hey, I can be that!".

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And why just women? Mani made guys especially the "bad guys" look good too. He told us that it's cool to have a guy parking his bike in front of a bus in order to get a date with the girl he admires. Or proclaim his love on the college speaker or even in the Church to get her attention. Why, he even made dancing in train stations look cool.

A hero suffering from terminal illness might make you cry with sympathy? Well, yes if it’s Vazhve Maayam. But definitely not if you are Prakash of Idhayathai Thirudathey. Mani makes us live happily despite the illness and even live care-free despite having family complications.

Clipped dialogues are clichéd? Not if you are a Maniratnam fan. His dialogues were straight from the heart. The soft-spoken Vijayakumar’s final outburst in Agni Natchatiram is still fresh in my mind. And I so love the little girl in Anjali who naughtily whispers to her dad, “Sarithan poda, sotta thala-nu sollathuma?” (Should I say, “Bugger off you bald headed man?”). The “kambli poochi” (caterpillar) dialogue in Mouna Raagam is one of his best, by far.

Clearly, Mani’s dialogues cannot be merely categorised as crisp and short. Anyone can do crisp and short dialogues. What matters was how Maniratnam said so much in those few words. Who can forget the famous Kamal dialogue in Nayagan, “Avangala nirutta sollu, naan niruthurEn”? (Tell them to quit first. Then I will do the same) Mani doesn’t even explain who the “avanga” (they) were, yet the message reaches loud and clear.

And remember the part where Anu finally goes to Anjali and says, “Naan unna nalla parthukuven. Last varaikum parthukuvEn.” (I will look after you until the end)? Who but Mani would be able to decipher a child's mind and language?

And yes, how could you not fall in love with these dialogues?

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Now that I've stated my views on Mani's strong points, I just need to ask one question. When you have a director who creates all these lovely incidents and people that you can relate to, why did he had to change his style all of a sudden? Why did terrorist Manisha and Mrs. Ambani Aishwarya Rai suddenly took over the lovely women we grow to love? And why should we suddenly be bombarded with terrorisms, racial riots, and war when we feel better just by looking at the newly-weds in Mouna Raagam; the close-knit family in Anjali, the paan-chewing, dhothi clad Velu Nayyakar; the loggerhead half-brothers in Agni Natchatiram; and the cute couple in Idhayathai Thirudathey?

And why should Suhashini write ridiculously lengthy dialogues when the clipped dialogues of Mani are all we long for? I want to hear the post-operated Girija whispering “Odipolama?” to Nagarjuna, instead of hearing poetries from Aishwarya Rai, seconds before she was supposed to be killed. The former is the Maniratnam I know, the latter is the one he changed to be now. Not that I hate his films now. I can write pages on each and every scene in Dilse and even his latest Raavanan if given a chance. But today his films are just films for me. They are not something I can relate to. Not something that I see happening in my backyard anymore. Not something that I can see myself being at.

I wish Mani comes back to Tamil for good again. No doubt he was at his best here. The short periods he came back, he ended up making lovely films like Alai Payuthey and Kannathil Muthammithal, with the same beautiful families we can relate to and the amazing love stories that only he can handle. I want to see another Madhavan chiding his lover with, “Hello, un logic saghikilA” (your logic sucks) or even another Jayasudha who teases her daughter with, “Thandavaalathula mattum poi kudichidadhE. Apparum ellarukum kashtam!” (Just don’t fall on the train tracks. Everyone else will have problems then.)

And what about Simran in Kannathil Mutthamittal itself? If I become a mother one day, I so want to be a cool one like her. “Enngala patti nanichi parthiya di? Unna patti mattumthan. Selfish!” (Did you ever think about any of us here? You only thought about yourself!). The way Madhavan announces his marriage plans to Simran’s dad is another spontaneous yet beautiful scene. “Naan Indra-va kalyanam pannikilamnu ninaikiren. Amuthavai tattu edukalamnu iruken. Mudhathakku unga anumathi vEnum. Rendavathuku unga kaiyeluthu vEnum” (I want to marry your daughter Indra. And I want to adopt Amutha. I need your approval for the first. Your signature for the second).

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Call it a case of bad comparison, but when Vinnai Thandi Varuvaya was released, almost every review I read classify it as the next Alai Payuthey. They even called Gautham as someone who finally understood about women's mind and needs. I beg to differ with this.

Gautham Menon can make all the Vinnaithandi Varuvayas and classify them as the hallmark love stories. But as far as I’m concerned, no one understood women as Mani did. No one could show the energetic Githanjali and the feisty Shakthi and make us fall in love with them. Forget about white guys doing acrobatic moves in foreign lands. Nothing is more beautiful than dancing in the rain and railway tracks the way Mani picturises them. I want that Mani back. That Mani who makes each and every single shot look amazingly beautiful. The one who makes you feel good about yourself just because he portrays the characters that we can so connect to. Whether he does come back for good with his latest venture Pookadai, or merely making a quick stop at the station before moving to Bollywood once again…well, only time can tell that!

P.s: Special thanks to Tuffyshri for blogging about Maniratnam flicks. It was after reading her blog did I obtain the idea to pen this one down. And Tuffy, this is definitely not meant to counter your views on Maniratnam. I so agree with your points on dark lights and soft dialogues. In fact, these elements are the same reason why I loved Maniratnam :-D
[/JUSTIFY]

 

Thanks a lot Pallavi! Your words really mean a lot to me :-D
I had a lot of fun writing this blog as it took me back to the time when I used to sit and enjoy watching each and every Mani's films.

By nature, I'm not someone who focuses on minute details. In fact, it was Maniratnam who taught me all these. When he makes a scene, he doesn't just let the lead actors to act, he even makes each and every characters that captured on the frame to act too- and that brings a sense of authencity to the scene. That's the connecting point between us and the film.

I love Raavanan too. I love the story and presentation he brings through it. But as much as I loved the film, there's a sense of pathos knowing that the Mani who used to capture our life in films has now moved to a different locale. It seems so strange that while I can connect so well with Velu Nayyakar of Nayagan and Surya of Thalapathy once upon a time, I can't say the same of Veera of Raavanan today. The Mani I used to know has clearly moved to a different level now.

This blog is just a small tribute to the director I admire and love. And who taught me to enjoy films the way I do now. Thanks for reading this :-D

 

Hi Rgs,

Thanks a lot for your valuable comments. Yes, Mani does have a way of showing his characters especially on how they interract with one another, doesn't he?

I love Kannathil Mutthammittal a lot. The family relationships he portrayed are absolutely beautiful. He sure has a way of tackling the most sensitive issues in such a nonchalant and breezy manner. Though Kannathil Muttamittal is about a girl who longs to find her biological parents, Mani doesn't shower us with sad and gloomy scenes. In fact, in one scene, Vinay (the brother) is shown grabbing Amutha's diary- "Amma, yenna yen vittutthu poitinga?" (mom, why did you leave me?) he reads out aloud. And in the same breath he provides the answer, "Poitanga, bathroom vanduruchu, poitanga!" (She left you cos she has to go to the loo!). The same boy is later seen shouting about Amutha in the phone for he feels that the sister is the reason why his parents are stranded in Sri Lanka instead of being with him in Chennai. The scenes were so natural that you have no trouble being a part of them.

I guess that's Mani's magic :-D But yes, it was only when the story weaves out to the war in Sri Lanka that I began to lose interest myself. I realized I'm just not ready to walk on the strange land that Mani is introducing nowadays.

 

I agree with you Vishwa Sir.

The beautiful characters that Mani used to create is simply missing nowadays. I loved how Revathy is shown as a simple girl in Mouna Raagam- one who is so eager to go outing with her husband. Remember how excited she was when she hears the college students singing Tamil songs in a bus? She would gleefully turn to her husband and say, "Namma ooru karanga!! Fast-a pongalE please!"

The eagerness and happiness shown in her face and reactions- that was the beauty of the characters Mani used to make.

And yes Vishwa Sir, I think the current problem Mani faces is his eagerness to venture into a path that he himself is so unfamiliar. And that when the magic kind of waned off :-(