Category Archives: The iLikes!

Footnote

Direction: Joseph Cedar

Featuring: Shlomo Bar-Aba and Lior Ashkenazi

Footnote is an Israeli film about a father and a son – both in the Talmud department of the Hebrew University. The father is a researcher following traditional research methods – hard-working, meticulous and perseverant. The son, on the other hand, is modern, publishes without being entirely sure, is sociable and highly appreciated. The father doesn’t take his son’s successes too well.

To understand the film in its entirety, one must have some knowledge about Talmud research or at least Judaism and its texts. When you don’t understand the literature, the film is a blindfolded ride through complex dynamics of this father-son relationship of envy, rage, sympathy, irreverence, fear and love (that is much considering the father is said to be autistic).

The father is proud and the son is sacrificial (more out of the fear of breaking the family). The father is contemptuous of his son’s research but the son is sympathetic of his father’s work. The father publicly calls his son an empty vessel but the son attributes all his successes to the father. In spite of the father being portrayed as the pompous guy, I felt for the father more than the son – almost as if he was wronged by the world (of research and rivalry).

The women characters in the film are very interesting. There is the typical mother – hosting guests, folding up the newspaper, protecting the son and spreading love. There is the son’s wife – whose job is to be a mother (for the grandson) and she even refuses to do it right. Then there is this girl who submits a research paper that is beyond bad and a journalist who is said to be amateurish.

The film’s ending haunts you with its openness leaving you contemplating for a long while after the film what the father will do with the prize (knowing fully well he was awarded it at the mercy of his son). You are wondering if you know the father well enough to conclude that he will arrogantly refuse acceptance – or bury his wisdom and take the prize he waited decades for.

In essence, footnote is the story of a bunch of convoluted relationships that the director leaves you to untangle in your own time. Well played, indeed.

When night is falling

Direction: Patricia Rozema

It brings careers, sexuality, religion, theology, pedagogy, literature, performing arts, substance-abuse (okay, it’s p0t they talk about) etc. together through stark symbolism and bold imagery.

Camille (played so naturally by Pascale Bussières) is a literature professor at a religious college dating a fellow professor (of theology). Martin, the lover, is chasing career opportunities while Camille is looking for real love (which she loses when her dog dies in disturbing circumstances and chooses to make space for the dead dog in her fridge).

While mourning for the dog, she meets Petra (charmingly affable Rachael Crawford) – a circus performer who is said to wear racy clothes, living in a converted truck, drinking out of glasses with round bottoms and performing interesting (feminist) gigs. The one gig with the iron box is a great display of absurdist feminist performances.

Camille and Petra fall in love – after Petra almost stalking Camille and cornering her to take interest. Camille, of course, is immensely attracted – she initiates their first kiss, comes around and initiates their first love-making (which is picturised in great detail and class). She is embarrassed about her sexual preference in the beginning and cringes at the thought of PDA. The film takes you through Camille’s life in stages of indifference – interest – denial – contemplation – pursuit – embarrassment – acceptance. Her struggle is palpable. Petra being a woman of colour adds a new layer of complexity to the story. (A very interesting read here on racial complexities)

At the end of an extremely moving, highly engaging, intriguing film, I am left to wonder if the symbolisms are indeed intended the way I perceive it. The relationship between Camille and Martin is seen as bland and unexciting – they wear grey clothes, accept religious teachings as the final word, spend no quality time together and there is discomfort that is more felt than seen. However, Camille’s scenes with Petra are filled with references of being out-of-normal – the glass I mentioned earlier, the gigs in the circus, the nomadic life, the pot-smoking, the struggle for making ends meet – make me wonder if the idea of the film is to treat lesbianism as non-mainstream (if not exactly deviant). Not that I am saying that is a good or a bad thing.

In all, when night is falling, is moving, feels real and highly engaging with the beautiful colours and breathtaking imagery. If it doesn’t bother you to see two women in love with each other (or even if it does), watch this film.

A wellwisher’s guide to Murali Vijay’s future

T20 teamilirundhu neekka pattaar. Odinen. One-day teamilirundhu neekka pattaar. Odinen. Test teamilirundhu neekka pattaar. Odinen. Kadaseela CSKvilirundhum neekka pattaar. Odinen odinen vaazhkaiyin orathukke odinen. Ranji Trophyavaavadhu Star Cricketla kaattuvaangangara nambikkaila thirumbi vandhutten.

 

Now that Vijay has been chased out of all corners he was occupying, as someone who has unending love for him, I most definitely worry about what he must do about his future. After great many hours of deliberation, I believe he must choose from the following options. And I authoritatively state that he must choose only one from the below and anything else he chooses for himself (like his batting performance of late) obviously does not work for him.

 

Vandhaarai vaazhavaikkum Tamil cinemavil nadikkalaam

 

Directors and producers will already be standing in a queue to cast him opposite the Trishas and the Anushkas of Chennai. Nanna Latchanama pasanga irundhaale indha thollai thaan. Story nalla irundha, role stronga irundha, actionukku scope irundha, foreign location la shoot irundha, unlimited orange juice irundha, accept panlaam. Aana, personally, en Vijay random girlsa romance panradhu enakku pidikkaadhu. So, nalla pullaiya iruppen nu enakku sathiyam panni kudutha, I approver.

 

Summer coaching class nadathalaam

Cricket irukkara nelamaila, nerayya parents pasanga Dhoni madhiri varanumnu aasa paduva (Ippo Prakash Raj vera yethi vitrukkare). Periyava aasaiya kedukkaama, kozhandhaigalukku coaching kuduthu (naatukkum sevai senju)munnethalaam. This also is ‘chinni kallu. Peddha laabam’. Oru summer coaching ku Rs. 10000, kit ukku oru 5000, tournament fees 3000, refreshments oru 2000 nu nalla parents kitta aattaya podalaam. Appappo pasanga selavula foreign tour kuda poittu vandhudalaam. Kris Srikkanth, Ashwin nu yaarayaavadhu inauguration panna vechutta double bonus.

 

MBA va use panlaam

 

Infosys, Wipro, TCS nu yengeyaavadhu Business Analyst velai vaangi overseas corporate teams ku coach aayidalaam. But aana, yevanaavadhu madhippaana nu paathukanum.

 

Commentary pannalaam

 

Look at this video I say. He will be a welcome change to the rubbish we all listen to in the name of commentary.

 

 

Onnume illainna, IPL la vandha kaasa FDla pottu, Coimbatore, Ooty nu settle aaydalaam.

 

PS: As much as I can take (and crack) and joke about Vijay, I sincerely hope he finds his form and gets a chance to be who he was the day I fell in love with him. A short story of the day here.

Twitter trauma!

My biggest crisis with Twitter is that I confuse between sets of people. Sometimes it’s similar handles, sometimes names, sometimes DPs and mostly just nothing realistic – but confusion prevails. Ignore it if you think I’m being narcissistic. If you can relate to it, please leave comments.

@vetti and @kickassiyer

How could someone confuse between such starkly different handles?! I did because they are both called Karthik. One generally has his picture as his DP and the other some cartoon (he could kill me for calling it cartoon, but anyway). One I’ve met more than once and spent quality time with, while the other I’ve had long conversations about his love life. The two are such different people and I still confuse the two. Hmmm.

@pavadanada and @davaratumbler

This, I think, is because both of them feature in my offline conversations with Twitter people. After repeated recommendations, I followed the two. For the love of my life I cannot differentiate between the two without conscious effort.

@Eml_a and @askabuska

This also has something to do with the people (off Twitter) who talk about them so often. But now confuse between @askabuska and @pavadanada as well. Sigh.

@4SN and @Vasudevan_K

This confusion happened when I was travelling to Chennai and both of them changed their DPs. Even now, I cannot trace back to how I know each person and what I have told them in the past. To make things worse, now @4SN has strange DPs.

@dreamydr and @neelavanam

This must have something to do with being dreamy and writing poetry. Over time I have realised one has recently become a doctor while the other is mildly aunty generation! :)

@18pattinaattaamai /@thekaipullai /@raghuthaatha

It took me a while just to figure out that they are all not bots and when I did, I followed them. But you see, when someone has a DP like @raghuthaatha has and a handle like his (his being male is an assumption of course), I can hardly think of him (assumedly) as a real person with real opinions. I always expect him to slam my mentions columns the way @APPATAKKARbot does.

@degree_kaapi is a girl. NOT.

My first memory of him on my TL was when he tweeted about his “favourite female characters being Shakti in Alaipayuthey and Jessi in Vinnaithaandi Varuvaaya – both wore starched saris”. Proof enough that he is male? Don’t answer that.

Kanasemba Kudureyaneri – I’m not the only one!

Direction: Girish Kasaravalli
Written by: Amaresh Nudgoni, Girish Kasaravalli
Featuring: Vyjanath Biradar, Umashree, Sadashiv Brahmavar

The film won National award for Best Feature Film in Kannada and for Best Screenplay.

After college (at MIC, Manipal), I’ve not seen a Kannada film, that’s in over 5 years. Even in college, the only two Kannada films I remember watching were ‘Dweepa’ and ‘Hasina’. All along, trying to brush aside the beautiful nostalgia attached to Kasaravalli’s films in my life, I sat down to watch Kanasemba Kudureyaneri.

The film is about dreams – Rudri’s, her husband Irya’s and one that is theirs. The dreams are intertwined in the superstitions of the villagers, the materialism of a son, the death of a father and the stench of his dead body. Going back and forth in time, Girish takes us through the culture and belief systems of a village full of people.

Irya is a gravedigger. He dreams of the death of a man in the village and believes that to be true – so he takes off to dig his grave. When he is told that there is no death in the village, he is left devastated.

Rudri – his wife – dreams of Siddha’s arrival and she prepares a lavish meal for him. When he doesn’t arrive, she is also heart broken.

Back and forth, in two days, we see capitalism, poverty, ignorance, self-sufficiency, agriculture vs. industry, and many meaningful arguments weaved subtly into a realistic story. The beauty of the film of course is in the hope with which he ends the film. The cynic in me wants to diss it as romanticising real problems, but Girish leaves me with Rudri and Irya’s dream of cultivating barren land in the hope of a better life.

Afterall, aren’t dreams all we’ve got!

Midnight in Paris

Nostalgia is a b!tch and Woody Allen knows exactly how to play it against you.

A Hollywood scriptwriter wants to move to Paris and pursue his literary dreams. His fiancé on the other hand, wants to live in Malibu and sit on a $20K chair in the comforts of modern America. From there, the film goes into innumerable tangents tied together by a writer’s dreams.

Gil Pender writes a book about this man in a nostalgia store. He is secretive and does not think anyone is worthy of giving him a valuable critique. One night while wandering on the streets of Paris rather drunk, he gets picked up by some people on a Peugeot. He meets Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald who then introduce him to Ernest Hemingway, who offers to have his manuscript read by Gertrude Stein. One after another, he gets the meet the most intriguing literary and artistic minds in 1920s France.

The film is dreamy throwing surprises at you at every turn. The scene in Versailles where they argue about ‘nostalgia being denial’, the one where Gertrude Stein tells Pablo Picasso that his painting is flawed by his love for his mistress Adriana, the one where Ernest Hemingway talks about making love to a truly great woman and losing fear of death, the one in the end where Stein tells Gill that, “The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence” are all gems. They make you think about the best times of your own past that you want to go back to while you are still in awe about the great people you are watching on screen.

The film is full of lines you want to hear again, conversations you wish to have with someone, intelligence you wish to gather, emotions you wish you could express and times you could go back to. Woody Allen plays with the mind of the artist in you, he tickles your nostalgia and makes you smile at your dreams. In the end though, he plays killjoy with that scene where Gil lectures Adrianna on her wanting live in the 1890s. If I wanted a reality check, I wouldn’t be watching Woody Allen, would I?

P.S: All said, Midnight in Paris is a film theorist’s dream. All the -isms I heard today give me a strange sense of satisfaction! :)

Just another day

At the end of just another day at work, she packed her bag and left for home. She had about 20 minutes before the bus would arrive but she preferred to get to the bus stop much earlier than tad later. She walked briskly, taking small but quick steps. A lot of her friends teased her for the way she walked. Someone not even 5 ft. tall, this was her way of catching up with the tall part of the world. But mostly, she used her loud voice to make up for her height (or lack of it).

Just as she stepped out of the office, it dawned on her that she’d have a guest. He was going to accompany her on her bus ride. She generally likes her trips alone. She uses the time to read, mostly. Today, she isn’t going to get that personal time. Strangely, she didn’t mind it. Well, they’d been talking about having a good conversation for long. Today was it.

Mentally preparing to say all the right things, she walked in strides and he walking with her. On any other day, he’d walk faster than her and mostly find himself walking in front of her; not only because he was taller, he was by habit a brisk walker. He has a vivid memory of the fight they once had about walking ahead of her. So, today, he was walking beside her. Actually they were walking in a single file. He was right behind her.

Just a few steps up the foot over bridge and a few steps down, they arrived at the bus stop. She looked at her watch; it wasn’t time yet. She sat down on the marble-esque bench and took a deep breath. He was walking up and down. He was nervous. While they were waiting for the bus, she decided to start the “conversation”.

So, she stood up and leaned on the metal structure, which was probably built to stop people from falling off the bus stop. She stopped for a moment to tell herself that she won’t fall off. When she was sure, she looked up. He was still walking frantically. He still shivered in his pants about going to make love to the girl he’s fallen in love with. He was goofy – Nah! He was in love.

She finally began the conversation, choosing her words ever so carefully. “Are you alright?” she asked, the sentence she’d mastered to utter without any emotion, during her job in a retail store abroad. It had no emotion or concern, though she meant it with all her heart. He politely told her that he was while making a face that showed her clearly that he was lying. She, however, thought it was all right.

After a comfortable silence for a couple of seconds, they got talking. He spoke to her, stuttering all along, telling her all (and only) that he wanted to. After several tough and lonely months, he had fallen in love again. More importantly, he had realised that he was capable of falling in love again. His previous relationship (when ended) had left him shattered. She wasn’t very sympathetic towards him because she believed that he took masochistic pleasures out of his break-up. He was in pain nonetheless. She knew it. She wished he gave himself a better life.

He continued to narrate his plans for the evening, how he wanted to do it, how he wanted to make her feel, what this should be and such details. She, in an attempt to keep the conversation going, told him a few harmless things about her preferences. They laughed over the absurdity of this information. She knew what she had just said made him comfortable; it showed in his laugh. The ten seconds he laughed, he wasn’t fiddling with his phone and searching for a place to keep his hands intact. She watched him relax. Strangely, it was visible.

In all of this, she deliberately kept the word ‘love’ out of the conversation. She knew it’d hurt him later. She wasn’t sure his love was being returned in the same proportion. Every time she even had to mention ‘love making’, she always called it ‘s3x’ or ‘bang’ or ‘fun’ or ‘hump’ to ensure he doesn’t attach too much importance to the ‘act’. She got him talking about it. Her own way of making him feel comfortable – which she presumed is what he wanted at the moment.

He told her why he was so nervous; while blowing his trumpet as if she had to be convinced that he was good on bed. He spoke to her of being a talker, and while he noticed a slight discomfort in her expression, he was quick to add that all the women he’s been with enjoyed it. More importantly, he told the word ‘women’ with a stress on the plural, more times than necessary. She laughed. She didn’t need to be convinced of his abilities.

Just while the conversation had taken off, she noticed her thoughts wandered. It was her way of consuming the information (because he wanted her to) and saving herself from judging him. In all of the 20 minutes that they both have been standing there, for the first time, she noticed there were at least 20 vehicles passing by them every single second. Practically every one of them was honking so loud that it could bring the skies down.  There was so much noise, it was deafening. She let the feeling sink in. In a rather weird way, she enjoyed the fact that she could cut out so much ‘noise’ from her life, without even much effort.

When he saw her looking around, he looked around too and for the first time noticed the vehicles around him. Perhaps, the noise had suddenly risen, because he heard nothing until a few seconds ago. He, rather nonchalantly said, someone should write about this conversation. The place, the time and the words exchanged. She made a mental note.

It was past 7 on a weekday evening. She was wearing a new sari that hadn’t even had its ends stitched. She was carrying a handbag and a lunch bag standing at a well-maintained bus stop on a painfully busy road in a big city. He however, had nothing but the phone he was fiddling with. There were less than 10 other people standing at the bus stop. She looked around to find a handsome boy she can add to the story. She found one on a bike in front of her. He honked and she was put off. She decided to keep the story about the conversation and nobody else.

When the bus arrived, he waited for her to get on before he got on himself. He was a gentleman like that. They took a seat. He stopped talking. He was still fiddling with his phone. He was waiting for a text. She noticed that he was getting uncomfortable. She reignited the conversation. She encouraged him to talk. Secretly, she was seeking gossip. She wanted to judge him. But everything he was saying, made it harder for her to judge. Harder, not because she couldn’t judge him, but harder because he was so genuine she didn’t want to judge.

She taunted him. She was already all over him. She sat too close. She put her hand around him unnecessarily. She spoke so loud that he was sinking in his seat. Her loudness made people in the bus stare at them. She looked at those prying eyes in pride. He was undisturbed. He’d been used to her by now and all the attention she always attracts.

She looked out of the window and realised it was time to get off. She bid her bye and walked down the aisle. Just before she got off the bus, she turned around to say, “be safe and have fun with Sona”. He just couldn’t wait to get home where Sona was waiting.

Tomorrow will be just another day at work!

The (proletarian) Valet

A few days ago, I watched Francis Veber’s ‘The dinner game’. On liking the film, I decided to watch the next one – The Valet!

The Valet is a farcical comedy in the life of a parking valet. A man who drives many fancy cars but can own none, who is in love with a woman who thinks of him as her brother and a life not worth mentioning – he is Fracois Pignon. One day as luck would strike, he is given money to have a supermodel live in his apartment and pretend to be her boyfriend.

Image courtesy: thaidvd.biz

Apart from simple realistic characterisation, straightforward (and sometimes predictable) storyline, satirical dialogues, innocently well-performing actors, and simple yet beautiful locations – the film has the right mix of everything to make a great afternoon pastime. A few good laughs, a lighthearted story and good-wins-over-evil ending – that is what ‘the Valet’ has in store.

Spend a slightly deeper thought into the film, it is a very interesting mix of ideologies and philosophies: A bourgeois man makes his supermodel girlfriend live in the house of a (proletariat) Valet to save himself from a nasty divorce. The girlfriend, on the other hand, agrees to do so if given 20 million Euros. But the Valet is neither interested in money nor the supermodel – but in his doctor’s daughter who owns a bookshop in the neighbourhood and is drowning in debt.

The materialistic greed of a bourgeois man (and the ‘love’ for a supermodel girlfriend) makes him lie, act and cheat. The bourgeois man’s wife, who is stalking him, spying on him and having him followed only to get that nasty divorce to keep her share of the money. A supermodel (rich) girlfriend is in ‘love’ with the man in spite of knowing his marital status and lack of intent to get a divorce. She lives with a stranger in a not-so-well-off house for the 20 million Euros she is offered.

With honesty and virtue out of the bourgeois window, the Valet is a good man. He has a family who he takes care of and loves, he has a friend who he is honest to, he is in love with a girl he knows and gets a wedding ring in instalment for her. When she rejects him, he still loves her and makes money to help her debt. The girl on the other hand, is a struggling entrepreneur in the business of selling books that no one seems to buy. But she is also an entrepreneur who would not give in for a fancy new business of selling mobile phones.

The supermodel realises there is no point in being in ‘love’ with the man and decides to dump him after she learns that the man she loves is not going to come to her. She realises that the Valet is a good man and helps him get his girl. When rejects the money her lover had given her and moves on with her life.

The coherent message about the economy and society is perhaps something that I alone see. If any of you ever get to watch the film, would you like to tell me if you noticed it too?

Urban Turban

It’s stand up comedy. So, obviously, it is racist, sexist and every other –ist in the world. If you are ready to deal with it, it is a laughter riot.

The show begins with Monty Python’s always look on the bright side of life (which seemed quite like the actors were still doing their make up and they had to kill time). Immediately after, they sing a pettairap version of we will rock you. At the end of that is an introduction to the play. Evam‘s Urban Turban is the (funny) story of four people narrated in their own words by themselves, of course.

Image courtesy: Bookmyshow.com (for want of a better free image)

First up is @Aravind_SA: Assistant Director, two-time visa reject, loud mouth from down south. He has three stories. His story as an assistant director talking in Tamil to pigeons, his love for Leeds United and his humiliation at the hands of the UK Home Office and of course a childhood love story. He has an adorable Chennai accent and an uncanny ability to enact his sorry state of affairs in the most funny of ways. He’s got some killer lines and better expressions! Here, the joke is on him.

Next comes this boy from Coimbatore! It’s a shame I don’t remember his name. Or perhaps he didn’t say it clear enough. In his story, the joke is on us. He is the regionalist (if there is such a word) comedian. His jokes are on Coimbatore and on Bangalore. The dance at the pub was my favourite out of the whole gig. He has some great stories about squatting in a western toilet and dancing at a Chennai pub.

Madhuri’s stories were the most drab of them all. She begins with her self-proclaimed embarrassing story of being dumped by the boyfriend she met on bharatmatrimony. She begins very slow, stand still most of the show and the best joke in her whole gig is that her ex-boyfriend’s name was Sam, short for Nikhil. As a phoren-return to Chennai, I was expecting racist, sexist rib ticking comedy. Good or bad that didn’t happen, she had finished before we knew.

The last gig was expectedly the best of them all. Yudi aka fit-in-the-longest-name-you-know had the funniest story. From a Nepali boy in Chennai, this is a completely racist, sexist, regionalist, crack-a-joke-at-anything-that-moves gig! Every line was hilarious, he interacted the most with the audience and even called a spectator a “lucky b@stard”. The best of his work was the way he brought all other standups together in his gig. He gave a meaning to why these people were in the same show. Stunner boy who’s T-Shirt said ‘I Love CHEnnai’.

If you notice, they were all Chennai people making a joke about the city exuding Chennai-ness.

That said, it was a hilarious show. Tamil film directors, over-acting heroes, visa-seekers, Leeds United fans, schoolboy lovers, Coimbatore cool kids in ice-cream parlous, hostels and roommates, American desis and their moms, l3sbian Indian girls in the US, Gurkhas, Tam Bhrams, auto-drivers and many other vibrant characters brought together in a beautiful bouquet of experiences.

If you dare to laugh at yourself, this one is for you!

Disclaimer: I was invited to review the play and that means I got free “VIP” passes to watch this one (many thanks to @manuscrypts).

Avan – Ivan! Who?

When Bala made Sethu, he was perhaps one of the most celebrated directors of that era. He’s made 4 films since and Avan Ivan is his 5th film. With Bala having just made five films, it’s not tough for anyone to have watched all his films. I have. Most of you would have as well. Keep that at the back of your mind and I’ll come back to why I’m saying this.

Avan-Ivan is the story of two stepbrothers fighting to be the best in their family business, which happens to be thievery. Walter (Vishal) is an artist who loves to dress up and perform. To dance, to steal or to cut through clutter, he dresses up as a woman and speaks in a screechy voice (apparently ‘like’ a woman). Even when dressed as himself, he is a squint, has crooked teeth and isn’t seen as the most handsome man on the planet. He tries hard to establish himself as a thief but fails miserably and becomes a subject of ridicule.

Kumbudren Saamy (all kudos to whoever for coming up with that one), the charming Arya, on the other hand does not have a real job apart from thievery. Well, this is probably why he is so good at it.

Their father Srikanth (played by the glaring misfit Anant Vaidyanathan – voice expert of Super Singer fame) is much a dummy in the film. I wish he wasn’t there at all speaking those hideous lines in an even more hideous way. Ambika and Prabha Ramesh play the roles of proud mothers to near perfection. When Kumbudren Saamy returns after opening the Judge’s locker, his mother joins him in a victory dance that is worth a million bucks.

Highness (played impeccably by G M Kumar) is exemplary characterisation. An old rich single man who plays Godfather for Walter and Kumbudren Saamy is also the most popular and most respected man in town. He takes care of the two brothers, spends most time with them and saves them from misery. The brothers in return save the man’s pride, beat up police officers who insult him, are pledged to protect Highness from cheats by their mothers.

In a way that is not exactly taking the film anywhere, there are mundane scenes from everyday lives of the two families and our dear Highness. The police department’s Poojai event where Walter is dressed to kill is a laughter riot. The love tracks of Walter and Saamy are flimsy in my opinion (but that is perhaps how love happens in the villages, I don’t know).

Image courtesy: tamil.koodal.com

This girl looks too fair to be in the film, I think! ImageCourtesy: likecinema.org

To add to this, there is a scene where Surya makes a guest appearance on behalf of Agaram. Walter shows him the navarasas. The only part of the film where someone is evidently acting to cues and the only part where we see what it really takes to be an actor. For the Vishal I hated in Theeraadha Vilayaattu Pillai, he has shown he cannot be written off.

In what feels like a smooth flowing life for all characters, Bala throws in surprises through Kumbudren Saamy getting caught for beating up policemen, Walter driving away a lorry that might contain material – trafficking of which is illegal, a girlfriend who is the enemy’s daughter and through all these sequences, he leaves the viewer worried about who is going to be hurt.

Bringing back what I began this article with, if you have watched Bala’s films before, you know that in the last fifteen minutes of the film, someone is going to die and someone is going to take revenge for it. One step ahead, you also know that the someone dying would be killed by a ‘bad guy’ for busting his ‘business’.  So, the moment Highness saves the cows, you know what will happen in the end. This is perhaps the only glitch in the film. When the story really takes off, you know where exactly it is going.

With that out of the way, I am proud of Bala’s Avan Ivan. It reminds me of Pithamagan. I think it could just be another Pithamagan with differently written characters. Yet, it is a vibrant story of lively people. It is a story of closely-knit families and genuine togetherness of the people in the town. It is the story of disturbance caused by an external entity and the restoration of peace thereafter.

With Ilayaraja making music for all of Bala’s films (except Nandha of course), the music in this films is a treat. I haven’t heard any of the songs before on Radio or TV and so every beat was very new. But none of the songs were really ringing in my head after I left the theatre. The background score however, was something to notice. Yuvan is contributing to the film and not to his CV, which is a fantastic improvement.

This is a Bala film – all in all. I would definitely like it if he ventured beyond his comfort zone and make ‘different’ film (not different from others but different from his previous ones). That said, I am not complaining about Avan Ivan. The part of your life you give for this film will be fully worth it.

P.S: I’m rather impressed to see that we as Tamil cinema audiences have come to accept nudity in our films. After Jackie Shroff in Aaranya Kaandam, we see G M Kumar in the nude for a full five minutes in the film.