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The Tamil tea party
Mediocrity lurks large over this year's Diwali releases in Chennai
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Tulika
It all reminds you, really, of the famous tea party in Alice In Wonderland.
Remember Alice, the Mad Hatter and the Dormouse keep shifting around the table, ending up in front of plates and cups used by the previous occupant, and never getting anything fresh? Same difference, when you look at Tamil films these days.
How it goes is, someone does a love story, it works, and then everyone figures love stories are what the public want so they all announce love stories. But by the time they sign on the stars and shoot songs abroad and all the rest of it, the audience has tired of romance and moved on to something else. Which is when the spate of love stories hits the marquee, looking to ride a wave that no longer exists.
The films released during the Diwali season are illustrative of the problem. Months ago, the reigning heroes of Tamil Nadu appear to have decided that angst-ridden action films are what get warm butts in theatre seats, so sure enough, we get this glut.
As Diwalis go, this one has in fact been rather tame. While Vijay and Ajith among the younger heroes have releases to their name, Vikram, who despite the non-success of Samurai and King is still on a high, and Madhavan are missing from the marquee. Missing, too, are the older superstars, Kamal Haasan and Rajnikanth, with only Vijaykanth from that generation putting in an appearance.
All three big stars, Ajith, Vijay and Vijaykanth, are angry young men --- a role that has been flogged to death on the Chennai marquee.
Ajith takes responsibility for much of the recent flogging. His earlier essays in the genre, Citizen and Red, had all the impact of a Diwali cracker left out in the rain.
This time, he appears in Villain, an NIC Arts film helmed by K S Ravikumar, with music by Vidyasagar and the likes of Meena and Kiran to provide the frills for Ajit in a double role.
The film owes its story and screenplay to Yugi Sethu, Tamil television’s answer to David Letterman and Jay Leno. Interestingly, Sethu was playing a character role in the recent Kamal Hassan starrer Panchatantram, when he caught director Ravikumar’s eye, and ear, with his wit and a heedful of ideas.
One such idea turned out to be the basic premise of Villain. Having said which, the idea is as old as Robin Hood. Ajith plays a bus conductor by day and, by night, robs the rich to ensure a better life for handicapped people.
He has a twin who, surprise, surprise, is handicapped. How the twin got that way provides the motor force for the entire crusade. Providing excuses for songs and dances are Meena, a social worker and Ajith's accomplice in thievery, and Kiran, a college student who, as far as anyone can see, does not go to class once she meets the hero.
The denouement, featuring a clash with the villain who, more surprise, turns out to be the very bloke who caused Ajith's twin to become handicapped, is routine fare.
If the story is tepid, the performances are insipid. Ajit is best in the hands of a competent director, helming a script that does not require much in the way of acting or dialogue delivery – Vaalee being a good example. But when he is required to sound off, the fact that his voice lacks range becomes painfully obvious. The girls have nothing to do, and Ramesh Khanna’s half-hearted comedy hardly suffices to keep the audience hooked.
The fact that this film is the first collaboration of director Ravikumar and Ajit ensured a good initial – but the film does not have the intrinsic appeal to provide it with legs at the box office.
If Villain explores cliche territory, Lakshmi Movie Makers' Bhagavathy actually extends its horizons. The film is directed by Venkatesh, whose previous film, the Prashanth-starrer Choklet, did well thanks largely to the raunchy song sequence Malae malae featuring the generously endowed Mumtaz.
This time round, the director doesn’t have a soft porn dance number to rescue him, and pins his faith on sound and fury, signifyin nothing more than a headache.
Vijay is the elder brother with a younger sibling in medical college. Sibling's girlfriend gets pregnant, sibling dies, Vijay sees the to-be-born child as his younger brother's reincarnation. And the rest of the movie, believe it or not, is a contest between Vijay who swears the child will be born, and the villain who swears it will not be.
Seems a slender, and selfish, thread to hang an entire tale of vendetta on. Vijay is his usual self, easy and seemingly effortless in all he does, from the Allu allu dance sequence tailored for the front bencher, to the extended climactic fight sequence inside, outside, over and under a running train. While on the subject, one of these days someone will tell us why the sequence was shot in Orissa.
Reema Sen is the female interest, sought to be highlighted through songs shot in Canberra, Melbourne et al. Vadivelu in a double role is the comic relief. But given the trite story, loud treatment and a background score that gives cacophony a good name, you can't help feeling that a double helping of Dispirin would be a better prescription.
The third in the angst-ridden Diwali lineup is Ramana, the Oscar Films offering helmed by A R Murugadoss, with music by Illayaraja.
It is almost like painting by numbers. Take a hero. Pick a villain. Find a cause the hero can hang populist speeches on. 'Innovate' when it comes to what makes the hero angry. And there you go – the rest is routine layering of songs and fights one on top of the other till you reckon you’ve tested the audience’s patience for long enough.
Ramana is the mild-mannered widowed professor who has adopted four kids, from four different backgrounds but with the commonality that they are all survivors of disasters. Elsewhere, there is a kidnapper on the loose. The twist being, the kidnapper first compiles a dossier on corruption in one department, say the public distribution system, ranks the corrupt in order of their corruption, kidnaps the top twelve in the list, picks the most venal of the dozen and kills him as an example.
That the professor and kidnapper are one and the same takes about a half second to figure out. It takes slightly longer, like maybe half a minute, to figure out the denouement.
Vijaykanth goes through the motions with the practiced familiarity of someone who has been there, done that, and worn the T shirt. Simran makes a special appearance as the wife whose death, along with that of the couple’s daughter, kick-starts the hero’s crusade.
Starlet Ashima plays a giddy social worker whose encounter with the hero sobers her up. Mercifully, there is no romance between the hero and the jane came lately. Another positive is that the film is more sober, less loud, than the Vijay and Ajit offerings.
When last heard from, the box office featured a more or less even battle between the three ordinary offerings, with Vijaykanth just a head ahead of the other two.
Solla Marantha Kathai, meanwhile, is the disappointment of the season – if only because cinematographer Thankar Bachan turned in a hit with his directorial debut, Azhaghi, and in the process aroused expectations for his second outing.
Solla Marantha Kathai, from the PA Art Creators banner that also produced Azhaghi, has music by Ilayaraja, cinematography by Bachan himself, and a new hero in director Cheran, who steps in front of the cameras for a change.
The film suffers from half-baked characterization. Cheran, initially, is the principled young man from an impoverished background, with a degree under his belt and no job to his name. Producer and character actor Pyramid Natrajan plays a rich man who, much impressed by the youngster, offers him a wife (his daughter) and a job (managing the family businesses) all in one go.
From there on, the film degenerates into the sort of garish melodrama that dates back to the sixties. And the film's greatest failing lies in the fact that it fails to evoke empathy for the long-suffering lead characters.
Mercifully, the hero's angst is expressed through tears, and facial contortions aimed at conveying anguish, but not fists.
But that little silver lining does not suffice to distract from the giant cloud of mediocrity that hangs over the script, and its treatment.
In the final analysis, the four most prominent releases this Diwali are about as electric as water-logged fireworks.