Only one film, but a biggie, just in time for Onam. Mohanlal is back, this time in Joshiy's Run Babby Run:
I actually liked Joshiy's 2011 film Christian Brothers, and I'm hoping this will turn out to be another decent action-thriller. I will say that, as usual, I'm a bit put off by the Mohanlal-Amala Paul pairing, but it looks like their giving her more to do than just be a simpering, too-young love interest. Fingers crossed.
When the call went out for celebrating the Megabirthday, I realized that it was high time that I moved beyond clips of Chiranjeevi (as wonderful as they are), and finally got around to watching a whole Chiru film. On the recommendation of Temple of the Cinema Chaat blog, I ordered a copy of Yamudiki Mogudu, director Ravi Raja Pinisetty's 1988 film. Little did I know what was in store for me. The bottom line?
I love this film. Every inch of it. That is all.
Oh, all right. But honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. Kali, a sort of goonda-for-hire who uses the money he earns to help and look after the folks in his colony, finds himself caught between two rivals, Kailasham and Kota Kondappa, who plot to kill him as he’s heading to his wedding to Radha (the daughter of Kailasham). He arrives in the domain of Lord Yama, only to discover that, due to a clerical error, he’s been called up too soon. The god agrees to send him back, but they arrive too late, just as his body is set on fire to be cremated. Kali insists the god find a way to allow him to live – and the god decides to put his spirit into the body of someone else who is about to die. Three possible candidates present themself, but Kali chooses Balu, a decent man who is ill-treated by his uncle. The uncle – wanting Balu’s inheritance for himself – decides to kill off Balu. Kali takes his place, and sets plans in place to avenge both Balu and himself. The fly in the ointment, of course, is that not only is there Radha to deal with, there’s also Balu’s sweetheart, Gauri.
So – a double role, lots of dishoom, much dancing, some cracking dialogues, and excellent pacing all add up to a satisfying masala film that I enjoyed most gleefully, not even noticing the time slip away. I adored Yama and his assistants – heck, I enjoyed this film so much I can hardly express it. There’s a much better review of the film over at Cinema Chaat, but I got thinking it had been a while since I’d looked at the idea of the narrative function of song and dance in a while, and since I adored all the songs in Yamudiki Mogudu, I decided to share some thoughts on them in honour of the Megabirthday.
First, there’s “Bahusa Ninnu Bandarulo”. Radha has just met Kali – he’s come to meet with Kailasham, who wants to teach him a lesson for stealing goods from him. Kali ends up beating up Kailasham’s goons, which Radha (who has been longing to meet such a “he-man”) films, and later rewatches. She imagines the two of them together:
He sings:
I might have seen you in Bandar I must’ve touched you intentionally. I am mesmerized by you. I surrender myself to you. The flower in your hair and you in my lap. I am living in heaven.
She sings:
You must’ve liked me in public. I must’ve given you my heart in sleep. You are my first love. You are my last love I am dying to get married to you.
So, essentially, Radha is imagining her romance with Kali, expressing her desire to marry him – a relationship that is set to become a reality until Kali is killed off in such an untimely fashion.
After Yama and his assistants are unable to return him to his body (it having been cremated), Kali threatens to tell Brahma and generally “raise a storm in the three worlds” with an eye to having the mistake revealed and the realm of Yama shut down. To buy time to find another body to put Kali into, Yama’s assistant Chitra Gupta suggests they call Rambha and have her entertain Kali, giving us the song "No No Natyamida".
“Oh human,” she sings, “oh human, I welcome you. Have you seen this? Have you heard this?”
Kali is having none of it.
“No no no no no no,” he sings. “Do you call this dance? Do you call this singing?” If you want to dance, he says, you’ve got to see the passion. “Learn to break and shake, oh Rambha,” he tells her, so that you have people clamouring to have you dance more!
What comes next is a riot of musical and dance styles from tap to rock and roll to disco to break dance to pop:
And the only thing I have to say to that? “This is what is called dance!” And: “Dance once more!”
The song “Ekku Bandekku Mama” is probably my favourite in the whole film – I actually ran it back four or five times and watched it before continuing with the film. It’s introduced magnificently – Yama and his assistants take Kali to see Balu, the last of the potential candidates for a body to occupy. When Kali wants to know more about Balu, Chitra Gupta brings out a magic box that allows them to see a vision of Balu and his sweetheart Gauri. Think of it as a kind of celestial laptop with Google (and how fabulous is *that*?)
"Ekku Bandekku Mam" is essentially a push-pull song, with the woman the pursuer of the reluctant male, who resists her as best he can until he finally gives in to her:
I loved this cheeky little song so much I copied down the translation from the subtitles:
She sings:
Get on the cart and start riding it, dear. Take me into a nest and give me a hug. It’s a common thing when you become young. We can’t control our desires. Why are you hesitating when I am fine with it? Why do you behave like a kid when I am inviting you? Get on the cart and start riding it, dear. Wink at me. Hold my hand like a man. Hold my waist and check the size of my waist.
He sings:
It’s a bad,bad world, there are thorns here. You might get hurt. Don’t make me do this. It’s a bad thing.
She sings:
Why did I fall in love with you? Take advantage of me.
He sings:
You are as tasty as the brinjal curry. You are as hot as a pickle. (actually, the subtitle said “prickle”, but I assumed given the food metaphor, it had to be wrong)
She sings:
Get on the cart and start riding it, dear. Take me into a nest and give me a hug
He sings:
I will take you into my arms and give you a kiss. Just guide me. I will entertain you. Give me a chance.
She sings:
I will be lucky to get a partner like you. I will chew you down like a betal leaf.
He sings:
I will throw a web on this bird. I won’t leave this bird.
She sings:
This guy is such a funny guy. I am having a great fun with him. Get on the cart and start riding it, dear.
He sings:
Take me into a nest and give me a hug.
She sings:
It’s a common thing when you become young.
He sings:
We can’t control our desires.
She sings:
Why are you hesitating when I am fine with it?
He sings:
Now I am right in front of you.
We go from this to "Vanajallu Gilluthunte", a rain song – or, a twist on the rain song. It begins to rain, Gauri puts her hand out to catch the drops, and then she (like Radha earlier with Kali) imagines her romance with Balu, the rain transformed into an underwater world complete with shells and pearls:
She sings:
How can I bear it when the rain is tickling me? How can I bear it when the thorn got pierced in my feet. My drenched waist is putting me in trouble. I am all yours at this moment. Come to me and save me from the raindrops. I am drenched, but there is a fire inside me. There’s the pleasure of heaven in your arms.
And it’s just after this song that Balu, reading the newspaper, sees news about Kali’s colony that brings his memories of being Kali back. He sets about avenging his death,and renews his relationship with Radha.
When he tells his future father-in-law that he has to go away for a few days to his gold mine, Radha wonders how she will survive his absence. “Keep thinking about me until I come back,” is his response. He kisses her goodbye, she faints, and imagines herself dancing with him in the gloriously 80s styled wonder that is the song “Andam Indolam”:
Kali, of course, is Radha’s (and our) Supreme Hero! Our Dream Boy! Radha sings that she wants to be with him forever, but we all know the problem here. Because Kali is also Balu, and Balu has Gauri. Of course, Kali/Balu is going to end up having to juggle the two women as he works towards his ends, and it’s summed up nicely in the song “Kanne Pille Thoti” and its opening lines: “The boy has fallen in trouble with the girl. There will be chaos if one sees the other.”
I love the song, and in particular that little touch of having one of Yama’s assistants looking on in amusement, and even getting involved in the fun – before the inevitable chaos results when the two women realize that they’re sharing the same man.
What I particularly love about Yamudiki Mogudu is that there’s little screen time actually given to the romances themselves – it’s the songs that carry the romance tracks, and I’m fine with that -- especially given how glorious these ones are. There’s even a small musical moment at the end (not a song really, and I couldn’t find it anywhere) where Radha and Gauri sing back and forth, each of them citing the reasons why the other really should have Kali/Balu for her own, until Yama makes a suggestion (which we never hear) as to how Kali/Balu should resolve his relationships with the two of them.
Yamudiki Mogudu was, I think, a perfect choice for my first full Chiranjeevi film, and I’m grateful to Temple of Cinema Chaat for the suggestion. It will definitely not be my last Chiru film!
A big weekend for releases, and we're not just talking Ek Tha Tiger here! Eid and Onam fall quite close together this year, so there will be a number of big releases over the next two weeks.
On August 18th, there's director Lijin Jose's Friday 11.11.11 Alappuzha starring Fahadh Faasil (who is quickly becoming a Totally Filmi Casa Fave) along with Manu, Nedumudi Venu, Tiny Tom , Vijayaraghavan, Ann Augustine, Asha Sharath, Prakash Bhare,Salu Kuttinad, Dinesh, Narayanan Kutty, Sasi Kallingal, Seema G. Nair, and Nimisha Suresh:
Needless to say, this is my pick of the week. Love the colours in the visuals. Love the music. Love the actors.
August 18th also sees the return of Dileep with Mr. Marumakan, directed by Sandhya Mohan:
I have to say, I tend to blow very hot or very cold with Dileep these days, and this trailer pushes me to the "very cold" end of things, with one exception: KHUSHBOO! And for some reason, I'm betting when I see this film I'm going to feel the need to point out that KHUSHBOO! is actually younger than Dileep. Just a feeling.
And finally, this weekend, (the 20th instead of the 19th, because they still have to get an Animal Welfare clearance, apparently), the Megastar is back, with Thappana, directed by Johny Antony:
And although I'm thinking this may be one of those Mammootty films that just doesn't appeal to me, I have to confess, I sort of love the song "Oorum Perum Parayathe", which is due in no small measure to its singer, Vijay Yesudas:
(Okay, I'll confess, the cute moves that attempt to get the Megastar to do something related to dancing also touch a chord with me.)
In all the excitement these days over things like TIFF, Ek Tha Tiger, and Gangs of Wasseypur, it had completely slipped my mind that there was going to be a remake of Marykkundoru Kunjaadu, director Shafi's hit 2010 film that starred Dileep, Bhavana, and Biju Menon.
Marykkundoru Kunjaadu is a film that I rather like -- the whole cast is impeccable, and Dileep is very funny. Here, check out the trailer and see:
Dileep plays Soloman, nicknamed "Kunjaadu" ("lamb") because he's timid and always runs from a fight -- and he ends up the brunt of many beatings, especially from the brothers of his childhood sweetheart, Mary (Bhavana). Soloman is a bit of a layabout -- he fancies he might want to be a film director, but the only thing he's directed (a religious serial for television) has flopped, leaving the parish on the hook for the money used to fund it.
One day a mysterious stranger (Biju Menon) turns up in the village, and he's taken to be Soloman's brother, Jose, who left home many years before. Jose is big and brawny, and with him around, Soloman finds a little courage to stand up for himself.
There are many more twists and turns in the film -- there's a funny back story about how Soloman's mother was supposed to marry Mary's father (Innocent), but left him and married the church sextant when she found him fooling around on her. Mary's father carries a grudge, and vows that Soloman will never marry his daughter as a result. There's the mystery of the stolen church cross to be resolved. And there's Soloman, who needs to learn to step up to his responsibilities in life.
I'd say if there's anything wrong with the film, it's that Dileep is a smidge too old to be playing Soloman -- he's incredibly good, quite funny, but the role just felt like it should be for someone younger.
Now, I'm also always wary of remakes of Malayalam films -- they generally aren't a patch on the original. So it was with a little trepidation that I watched the trailer for Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal:
And you know what? It looks like Priyadarshan is sticking pretty close to the Malayalam original -- and even better, it looks like they've got the casting exactly right. I adore Shreyas Talpade, and I think he's the perfect age for the Soloman role, and he's got the comedy talent to pull it off.
I've got my fingers crossed that the film lives up to the trailer, and this is one remake I'm actually looking forward to seeing!
The first is Simhasanam from director Shaji Kailas, and starring Prithviraj. Now, I have to admit, the first Shaji Kailas film I ever saw was Chinthamani Kolacase, a legal thriller starring Suresh Gopi as lawyer seeking a kind of vigilante justice. It wasn't a great film, but it was a little bit cracktastic, and my second venture into his films (Baba Kalyani) only served to make me think that Kailas has a distinct style that is well suited to this big, kind of overblown action thriller films (see also his other 2012 film, The King and the Commissioner, starring Mammootty and Suresh Gopi).
I don't know much about the film, but I do know Prithviraj could probably use a hit right about now. Who knows if this will do it for him:
However, my pick this week is Mohan's award-winning Gramam, a film that did well at festival screenings:
I'm sure Simhasanam could prove to be a bit of a romp, and I will confess that I don't love the trailer fro Gramam, but I just have a feeling that it could prove to be more my cup of tea.
“You play dominoes very well, I believe.” Mr. Cust was a little flurried by this. “I – I—well, I believe I do.” “It is a very absorbing game, is it not, with a lot of skill in it?” “Oh, there is a lot of play in it – a lot of play! We used to play a lot in the city, in the lunch hour. You’d be surprised the way total strangers come together over a game of dominoes.”
From The ABC Murders by Agatha Christie, featuring Hercule Poirot.
In this loose re-working of Agatha Christie’s classic story The ABC Murders, Mohanlal stars as Chandrasekhar, the recently appointed head of Kochi’s Metro Crime Stopper Cell. Equal parts herogiri and Hercule Poirot, Chandrasekhar draws the attention of the mysterious Z when he solves the abduction of three young women by a psychologically troubled man, Jerome (Riyaz Khan, the go-to-guy for creepy loser roles). Z sends Chandrasekhar a note congratulating him on the arrest, but chiding him for spending ten years wasting his talents while dealing with the aftermath of his separation from his wife, Deepthi (Priyamani). What Z proposes is a bit of a game, something that will appeal to the chess player in Chandrasekhar – whose chessboard is given a place of prominence on his desk, where he plays against an imaginary opponent. Z proposes a date and a place, and challenges Chandrasekhar to solve the murders he is about to commit.
Chandrasekhar is reluctant to take up the case, feeling that this feeds into Z’s plans somehow – but his superior (Devan) insists he do so. Accompanied by two of his officers on the Crime Stopper squad, Kishore (Narain) and Rashid (Jagathy Sreekumar), they set out on the trail of the mysterious Z.
It’s always difficult to take a classic work like The ABC Murders and adapt it in a way that seems fresh and engaging to an audience. I’m never opposed to writers adapting material and changing it to suit a new audience or to give us a fresh perspective on the story, but I was left largely unconvinced by what Unnikrishnan was proposing. On the one hand, the idea to connect the dates of the murders to events in Chandrasekhar’s private life is an interesting one, and it forces Chandrasekhar to face his problems head on instead of constant running from them. But for me, many of the changes only served to diminish the dramatic tension of the story. Christie’s tale was never a crime thriller, and neither is Grandmaster. Christie’s mysterious salesman makes an appearance in the film, here as Victor Rosetti (Babu Antony) an itinerant cosmetics salesman, but he’s introduced far too early, given a face too early in the film, so that it practically screams, “I’m the beard!”. Unnikrishnan then places the spotlight of suspicion on several other characters, including the psychiatrist played ably by Anoop Menon, allowing us to check them off the list of suspects. The idea to provide a connection between all the murders is also interesting, and although it doesn’t necessarily diminish Christie’s premise (that seemingly connected crimes are, perhaps, not what they seem), it does serve to make the new ending unnecessarily melodramatic. The main problem, I think, with Grandmaster can be summed up by the words of Hercule Poirot: “(I)f the victims are alphabetically selected, then they are not being removed because they are a source of annoyance to him personally. It would be too much of a coincidence to combine the two.” Unnikrishnan’s script, then, requires me to believe in too many coincidences.
Perhaps my inability to enjoy Grandmaster as much as so many others have (the film was a hit, after all) is that I read a lot of mystery novels. I have certain expectations of how things should proceed. I stand firm in my conviction that the reader/viewer should have all the information at his/her disposal at the same time as the investigator/detective, and should be able to solve the mystery at the same time as the detective does. Grandmaster doesn’t allow me to do that – Chandrasekhar seems to be more of a Jedi Grandmaster than a chess one, channeling the Force to help him get inside the mind of his opponent, often relying on that rather than on his (considerable) investigative skills to solve the murders.
However, I think that there were also several things that kind of infuriated me about Grandmaster, and that served to interfere with my ability to just sit back and enjoy the film. First, the whole question of mental illness and madness, with the criminal characters considered to be madmen and social deviants. The film goes so far as to suggest that Jerome’s problems stem from the fact that he was raised by a single mother. Victor, as we discover, is schizophrenic. Add to this the fact that all these mad characters make liberal use of Christian ritual and symbolism in the course of carrying out their crimes, and you’ve got a combination that only serves to make me less engaged in the film.
Also, the female characters in the film, with a couple of small exceptions, are generally – how shall I put this diplomatically – unsympathetic. No, face it, they’re all bitchy. On the plus side, they are all successful. They include Susan (Rajshri Nair) a police commissioner who covers for her cousin Jerome, and tries to undermine Chandrashekar’s investigation. To top it all off, she’s just generally unpleasant. There’s Beena (Roma), a famous rock singer, who is portrayed as a kind of tease, and who is just generally nasty. And there’s Deepthi (Priyamani), Chandrashekar’s ex-wife, who is described as having abandoned her family to pursue her career, and who betrays Chandrashekar to further one of her own cases. The tight slap Chandrashekar delivers to her when he discovers her betrayal only served to cement what made me uncomfortable in the film.
But it’s not all bad news. A second viewing of the film permitted me to set aside all these things that irritated me and focus on what the film has going for it. There are some lovely moments, many of them stemming from the interaction of Chandrashekar with his daughter Dakshayini (Sreelekshmi), and his two coworkers, Kishore and Rashid – in fact, I’d really love to see these three together again in film, investigating another mystery.
Mostly, though, it comes down to Mohanlal, who delivers an understated and intensely interesting performance. Grandmaster is kind of a workmanlike effort. All the ends get tied up at the end, but what Unnikrishnan asks me to believe as a viewer leaves me unconvinced. Mohanlal’s performance, however, raises it to a film worth watching.
Grandmaster is the first Malayalam language film to be streamed on Netflix, and that's the reason we finally broke down and gave the service a try. I know that it's there because of the UTV connection (the film is UTV's first foray into production in Malayalam), but I really hope that this is the start of a trend that will see other films added to the service.
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