"Somewhere down the line, I thought I'd done that kind of storytelling too many times. I thought it was time for me to concentrate only on what really fascinates me and not try to have a backstory which would conveniently put it on an easy-to-follow platform. I thought we're ready to move on to the next form of narration. I'm very happy that's the way the film turned out." - ManiRatnam on Raavan, as quoted to Bharadwaj Rangan for the book "Conversations with Mani Ratnam".
Many a times, as any debate on films would eventually lead to, I come across this set of questions - "What is a film? What makes up a film in the traditional sense of it? What should a film talk about? What should any non-descript viewer take back out of a film viewing experience?". Depending on the level at which you are obsessed with films, your keys to the answers to these questions would range from simple to outright perplexing. I'd like to believe that I lie a few miles beyond the level 'perplexed'; in that very direction. This probably comes from my belief in art as an unending and largely undiscovered realm, only hindered in extent by human convention. Now, at the risk of sounding insolent, let me ask you to consider that as a call for discretion, in that, I'm stating myself as a profound 'art-house' fan and so shall the nature of this blog be!
Continuing from these very question that I'd stated above, I must say I had this gut feeling through and through when I was watching Raavan; that it was absolutely different from what all Mani Ratnam had tried earlier. I only needed a hint to reaffirm this presumption. And just when I bought Mr.Rangan's book, I quickly flipped through to the last chapter on Raavan and read through to find this relieving statement. Relieving because it struck a tune of convergence with the thought I'd been harnessing for this movie all along. That it was a bold and audacious experiment at a new form of cinema. Like the quote says, Mani Ratnam was trying just that very thing with Raavan.
Cinema has traditionally been known as a mode of communication. A visual format to share information, to tell a story, fictional or real. Then, that's where the dividing line between video and cinema exists. Cross that line, and cinema has moved into a host of new territories, where it has managed to extract continuously evolving technical work, styles of narrative, script and dialogue and blend that with emotion and purport. To a major extent, it surely has remained a source of entertainment, a medium where a story unfolded for viewers who wanted a weekend getaway for 3 hours while they actually sat munching popcorn and sipping cola. However, parallel-y (so the appropriately named parallel cinema), cinema evolved as a transcendent form of art that constantly explored all that's prevalent around humanity - emotions, relations, life, science, art itself, and almost everything in the environment around us. This is exactly where Raavan finds its footing.
What grabbed me thoroughly into this flick is the narrative. Before Raavan, it was a while since Mani Ratnam made a flick, owing to health issues and all. Now, dare I stereotype him, but his earlier flicks had a strong plot, sometimes historically conventional yet fresh on the Indian cinematic context and this was augmented by tremendous technical support and well built screenplays. Yet, the plot was the key and the narrative was definitely a subset of the plot. With Raavan, there is a hint that he chose to prioritize narrative over the plot. And this narrative, he chose to fuse with the quotient of exploration that this flick was all about. The plot was only a subject point for the functioning of this narrative. It was just the correct sheet of canvas for the art-form it needs to support. There in precisely, this film subdues the conventionalities a plot carries with it, and decries, albeit subtly, the want of an ingenious and classic storyline or a specific thematic message to go along with. If I sound like I'm talking of abstract art, maybe that's what it should be called. An art form which is continuously and progressively transcendent and is in the search for a deeper meaning of itself as it spreads out in layers.
Yet charmingly, this flick consummates a project Mani had embarked on. Alongside Dalapathy, which was a story inspired around Karna from the Mahabharata, this flick completes Mani's duology of films inspired by the great Indian epics. As much as it is apparent from the title, Raavan has heavy influences from the epic Ramayana. Yet the title Raavan, is also linked to the essence of the character (more on this later), and isn't just there to hint the references to Ramayana. This is where much of the debate surrounding the flick has been sparked, as to how aptly has the flick managed to portray the epic. I must digress a step here to steer my blog clear of this argument. Now, over the centuries there have been a thousand iterations of the Ramayana, most of them drastically differing in their views and opinions of the three major characters of the epic, Rama, Seeta and Raavana. I'm mythologically incompetent to state any clear argument on this subject. As an art enthusiast, here I'm totally willing to give Mani Ratnam the benefit of having his freedom of expression maintain its mainstay in portraying his own version of the Ramayana. Anyways, I find it totally irrelevant to involve a question of validity of the movie's script with respect to the Ramayana while talking about Cinema.
The charming bit is, inspite of loosely basing the plot on the Ramayana, Mani chooses not to stick to any of these thousand versions of it and lets himself have a degree of liberty to play with the characters, their circumstances, their choices and their emotions. Again going by Bharadwaj’s book, he himself quotes these characters better be just left as Beera, Ragini and Dev instead of calling them Raavana, Sita and Ram. In a time when directors reiterate scene to scene like clockwork, when making sequels or films which are based on popular stories or novels, this shows Mani’s refreshing tendency to tinker with cinema, to amuse himself, his readiness to play and have fun. And when you are in a theatre eager to watch dynamic cinema, this becomes a stronghold that keeps you glued to the seat.
As I said, this flick is all about its narrative. This narrative probes deep into a singular element - what happens between the three lead characters as the plot unfolds. Its not just the chronology of events related to the characters but the emotions they go through, the moments they experience, the decisions they take and the situations that befall them.
The narrative has a strong conviction here. It does two things. One, it chooses to meticulously follow the three characters as time flows, what happens to them, how they react to it, initially and in the long run, and what again happens to them as they make their choices. On a subordinate level, it peels off layer after layer of each of these three characters going deeper and deeper as the plot spirals towards an enigmatic climax. Picture this as a spiral with 3 lines running consecutively till they meet at the center. This center is that climactic shot of Beera falling off into the abyss. I’d like to take that shot as the modus operandi for this film, the whole purpose of the film or infact, the truth that this film and its narrative have been trying to unravel by looking deep into the characters.
Picture it as one of those medieval paintings that appear in European history books, and looking at them from a standalone perspective, they represent a hefty moment in history, of triumph, joy, sorrow, ridicule or even irony, with all relevant characters involved juxtaposed within one frame. This climactic shot is where the three characters converge, even literally, in the film as well as where their ultimate emotions, eventualities and our journeys with them stand frozen. Mani Ratnam is said to have shot a lot more footage for this flick which he has left back on the editing table (a bit more on this shall be mused on in several parts of this blog), but I reckon it was a splendid idea to have chosen this particular climactic shot for the flick. Furthermore, an intelligent fusion of cinematic styles and techniques endow this narrative with a richness seldom seen in Indian Cinema (more on this later).
Talk of the characters, this flick provides such a broad stage to sit down, understand, empathize and maybe even learn how to create characters. Beera proves to be the most complex of them all, probably etched that way by the passing of time. He is vigorous yet an interesting aura of calm surrounds him as seen in his introspective moments, when he’s simply musing with a shawl draped over his body. Apparently his position dictates that he is fear inducing and is respected yet he’s very amicable and friendly in a way that little kids could play with him on a Coracle. He has his frivolous and cunning methods by which he’s a surviving and terrifying renegade but he has this childlike nascence to him as he expresses his growing affection for Ragini. He’s deeply canny in the choices he makes, he’s notorious, compassionate, brutal and delicate. The metaphorical sense in being called Raavan, could probably be the reference to his multi dimensional character, alongside the active motif of him being a master at disguise.
Ragini here embodies a splendid concept Cinema the world over has been celebrating; having a woman at the center of a plot! This has been such a splendid tool for many movie plots, more so in the Indian context, with all the contextual richness it brings to a plot. Raavan has Ragini as the operating cog not just for the plot but also for the narrative. We experience every moment through her senses, understand every emotion alongside her and are left in almost the same awestruck state as she is at the climax as Beera falls off the cliff. Ragini appears as the quintessential complete woman in the way we’d expect a woman to be in a traditional sense. She is staunchly rooted in conventional ethic, a benevolent, respectful and loving wife, yet in no way subdued, as she has the definite consciousness of her own self respect, personality and independence. This is seen in the way she doesn’t let herself be domineered by her abductors in various scenarios and makes sure her own personal space is kept intact. However, deep inside she still is vulnerable and lonely, a feeling we empathize as we come across her various apparitions. But, provoke her and she could prove to be fiery and feisty indeed as she jumps off the cliff before Beera can even point the gun at her; a moment that shatters Beera to the core.
Now, the third vertex, Dev, turns out to be the most simplistic character of the trio. Also, the most conventional one. A straight-forward sincere cop for whom work tops the list of things he should dedicate himself to. Beyond the office hours, he’s just a simple guy who loves his beautiful wife. Yet, even for a simpleton, he keeps us awed as we notice how serious Dev gets when he takes things on a personal revenge note pushing harder and harder to find Beera, decrying his own personal boundaries.
I’ll move onto my favorite bit of the flick. The thoughtful and fragile screenwriting garnished with a heady mix of invocative and occasionally edgy and raw cinematic styles and techniques. Proceeding chronologically, the first shot we see is of a man standing at a cliff overlooking a flowing stream. This is accompanied by that tribal shout out that we otherwise hear with the “Beera” track on the album. Dropping a pebble into the stream, he follows suit by taking a straight dive followed by a casual swim. This is interspersed by shots of Beera’s aides outwitting cops in several locations and attacking them. All through we hear a dholak in the background only to come back again to Beera playing it. This draws us into the middle of the tensed environ right at the beginning and announces the terror quotient involved, yet does it with an uncanny coolness which doesn’t take it over the top. This strangely direct yet definitely brutal way of onslaught and assault is depicted throughout the film as a natural tendency of the rebels, when they choke the troops’ trucks by pouring sugar in the tanks, when they attack and torture Jamuna’s fiancé and when they attack Dev’s camp in the forest in disguise, abducting Hemanth and then later shaving his head.
Similar slickness in editing can be seen elsewhere in the flick, like the energetic introduction montage composed with sharp and classy visuals and a hip background score. The intensity of these action episodes is favorably assuaged by sections of classic Mani Ratnam style drama, replete with strong dialogue, subtle flow of emotion and innovative scripting. Of course the plethora of Mani Ratnam motifs are aplenty, the frame playing with colors, objects and lighting to hint at references.
There’s that scene where Dev receives a picture of captive Ragini surrounded by the tribals and Dev mulls over her rescue while burning the faces of the tribals with the glowing edge of his cigarette one by one, hinting at his internal grudge and deliberation. Another mellow scene is the one in which Beera goes all out innocent confessional person in front of Ragini on the coracle being whirled around by playing kids. Beera’s monologue mixed with the kid’s words, the camera – constant while showing Ragini yet circling around with Beera (is that to show the respective mindsets they’re in, his in complete turmoil and her stationary yet drifting? – another Mani motif) and Rahman’s sublime score make for a cinematic treat. Another stifling scene is that rugged exchange of words between Beera and Ragini after the bridge collapses. Here, there is an underlying string of emotions, Beera, angry, sad (for Jamuna) yet with a slight inkling of foolish glee (for what he has done for Ragini) while Ragini is draught with an overbearing sense of concern for Dev that’s being overwhelmed slowly by her growing empathy for Beera.
What’s stunning in the screenplay is the way it adopts a reflective philosophy towards certain moments and emotions. It slows down drastically and chooses to ponder over a few feelings, a few thoughts, and chooses to carry the audiences with it in this introspection. There in lies that narrative conviction I had earlier talked about. The brilliant episode around the “Behne De” track, right from the scene at the top when Beera’s aides hand him the gun to kill Ragini to the moments in the forest when Beera cant get his head off her jumping off the cliff, is just enchanting. Earlier in the flick, the title sequence stylistically carries over from that tribal war-cry at the start to the track ‘Beera’ accompanied by trippy visuals that inspire psychedelia in a fleeting hint to what one might expect from the movie. In the ‘Behne De’ episode, the shot of Ragini falling down the cliff, her unconscious body hanging through the trees before she makes the final splash into the stream beneath is replayed time and again, each time from a new perspective (hinting at a new state of mind of the observer, Beera). As we moves through this episode, we revisit Beera and Ragini undergoing two respective emotions that might have truly riveted them. Beera is fascinated by Ragini’s courage, her fiery essence and untarnished love for Dev. Ragini, on the other hand, is traumatized, distraught and is desperately seeking help, all this despite her pretense of courage. Both speak about these conditions, and also take us alongside their feelings through the narrative’s several close-up shots and dream like apparitions (another new aspect of the traditional Mani motif). I particularly like the way this episode sinks in slowly in pace, giving us time to muse along with Beera and Ragini (and occasionally with Dev too).
Time passes by and we are dropped right into the middle of the Beera-Ragini conflict, as the “Ranjha Ranjha” episode as I’d like to call it, where the melee of their mutual feelings of fascination, possible affection, hatred, anger and fury are depicted in that little choreographed fight between the two. The ensemble of cinematography, music, even choreography (notice how Beera never lays hands on her?) and scripting give this episode a new dynamic often not found in Mani’s movies.
Later, we come upon the episode after Beera narrates how Jamuna met her death, where Ragini begins to notice herself sympathizing with Beera and his tribe. Most of these emotions are handled by simple drama and dialogue set in classic circumstances, like the offhand conversation in the jungle near the big deity statue. Interestingly, the Behne De and Ranjha Ranjha dynamics aren’t employed here, an outcome possibly from the editing room, yet it somehow subtly hints that the emotion defined here is more of a flowing, gradual one as against the angst from earlier, which was sudden and upsetting to the two characters and needed more brooding over. With the later acceptance they garner for each other, they grow more vocal, less reluctant to be open and talking about it. Its more like the transition in you when you first fall in love and when you’ve taken love as a part of your life a couple of years after.
Likewise further scenes are handled deftly, like the revolving camera and aggressive dialogue when Beera and his brothers discuss options at hand, or the audacious scene with the fight on the bridge, burning et al. This particularly harks back to Mani’s obsession with audacity and set pieces and staying right on tradition, this scene is quite realistic in the taking. And the narrative is only left unconsummated without that epic climax, even in a metaphorical sense of the word, as the three characters meet what could possibly be their only destiny. For their lives and their emotions too. Beera falling off the cliff, Ragini frantically trying to grab his hand as she gasps and whispers his name while Rahman takes over with the scintillating “Jaa Udh Jaa Re, Ruth Beeth Gayi”; is just masterclass in Cinema.
I can hardly compliment enough the technical competence that went into making this flick. Santosh Sivan and V.Manikandan bring themselves in total gusto to this flick and truly deserve every bit of the plethora of accolades they’d garnered. The camera work, hand held, intense and in your face in some parts and flowing, panoramic and settled in other parts compliments the director’s eye to the tee. The canvasses they’d succeeded in setting up, be it a closed up shot of Ragini in the pit, her face bloodied and muddled and eyes murky and quivering, or a slow crane shot of the lush green misty valley are terrific. Sreekar Prasad is another guy who’s hardly acknowledged for what he brings to the package. His experience and skill brings that last edge of refinement (and sometimes a deliberate bluntness too!) to many a cinema, including this one. He’s a true behind-the-scenes master. Should I conclude this enumeration with an ode to the Maestro himself, A.R.Rahman! This album, though strikingly very simple and grounded, keeps every track fresh, musically rich and emotionally very apt. The compositional brilliance, the instrumental talent and every other accessory Rahman supplies needs no introduction. Yet, the background score is where he astoundingly reinvents himself. Tugging hard at the emotion in each scene, and letting one instrument (sometimes, just one vocal tone – the male humming and female vocals in Ranjha) take center stage for the score (like the Pianos and the Flutes), he has truly touched a new element in himself with this flick. So much so that the score has demanded the release of an E.P. despite this film’s commercial failure (not to forget mentioning that hasn’t prevented this flick from becoming a cult classic in Tamizh).
This essay, which I’ll not like to call a review, is an elaborate comment on cinema and is amongst my first few (Read elsewhere, my piece on Rockstar) and is suitably on one of the finest examples of Indian Cinema I’d seen to date. To adjudge that, I can only think up these words of Mani Ratnam’s from the same interview with Bharadwaj, where he excellently translates what Cinema is all about.
