"Nayagan"
I classify movies I like, into two sections--ones that entertain (like "Amaidhi Padai" and "Avvai Shanmugi") and ones that haunt me on an emotional level. You will find more of the latter in my favorites section. It is because one of my secondary criteria for judging a movie is whether it leaps out of the screen--do the characters transcend the 2-D screen and become a permanent fixture in my memory? Most movies fail to satisfy this condition not because they're badly made. It is because movie viewing is an evanescent experience. After the end credits roll, good movies are usually discussed for probably a few weeks; the very good ones for months...but the truly great ones are those that stay in us and become part of our lives. The dialogues become part of day-to-day conversations; we think of characters from the movie every time a personal experience seems to mirror a well-made scene...in short, the 'classics' of cinema are the ones that become ingrained in our psyche. "Nayagan" (1987) not only fits snugly into this category -- it’s the prototypical classic. It sets the standards of writing, acting and direction to be met by every movie that claims to be a great one. Reviewers and moviegoers alike have launched into febrile hosannas about this movie over the years, extolling its virtues irrespective of their taste. “Reviewing” this movie is almost an exercise in futility, given its widespread fame. But let me try…
Sometimes I wonder what the ‘theme’ of “Nayagan” is. Does it argue against the violent ways of its protagonist? Does it want us to get an insider’s view of a Don’s world? Is it a pseudo-documentary of a Don’s life? Is it about poetic justice? Is it about a human being’s love for his fellow humans or his fight against the evils?
Well, even after the inordinate number of times that I have seen the movie, I fail to come up with a satisfactory answer. All I can say is that it is all of the above and much more that all I can do is tell you what I like about this movie and pass the buck to you.
“Nayagan” traces about 50 years of a Don’s life, starting with his childhood. It is a yarn of emotions spun around the Velu Nayakar character, played by Kamal Hassan. His character was loosely based on Varadharaja Mudhaliar and of course, the movie itself is derivative of “The Godfather.” While it would be unfair to call it a pastiche of “The Godfather,” the similarities are undeniable. This, in my opinion, represents probably the only ‘negative’ aspect of “Nayagan.”
Velu is the adopted son of Hussain Bhai, a respected do-gooder with illegal practices but noble intentions. It is in exactly those ways that Velu grows up, gradually earning the trust, goodwill, respect and over the years, the love of the Tamil population of Bombay. He is the ‘Don,’ who describes his activities with a single line—“Naalu paerukku udhavum-naa edhuvum thappilla.” He marries a prostitute (Sharanya) under the most extraordinary of circumstances [their brief romance is delightfully sweet, yet sensitive—in typical Mani Ratnam style]. As he climbs the social (or antisocial, depending on how you view the character) ladder, he earns the ire of the Reddy family. And as he ages, he finds his children having diametrically opposite opinions of his ways. His son hero-worships him while his daughter cannot digest his way of meting out justice. In the last stages of his life, his actions and their unexpected consequences take several turns, one of the catalysts being the spunk-filled Assistant Commissioner of Police (Nasser). The way Nayakar’s vulnerability gradually rises above the surface is what the end portions are all about. His internal conflicts, the heartburns that he unwittingly causes to his dear ones, the unpredictable consequences of his actions, and his never-ending search for an elusive redemption are the core aspects of this film.
Mani Ratnam adopts an episodic structure and presents the film in a linear, uncomplicated, chronological order. But the ineffable magic of the screenplay lies in what Ram Gopal Varma calls “the emotional hook.” The empathy that he creates for the key character and the way he plumbs the emotional depths of the characters is astonishing. What more can you ask for, in a movie that is emotionally honest in every frame? Mani Ratnam’s sure-handed direction (in what was just his fourth film) of a complex script remains unparalleled for its style, confidence, subtlety and above all, its unquestionable poetry—the movie is, almost paradoxically, sublime as well as gritty. And, now lets move on to the person who aided Mani Ratnam in making all of this a reality:
Kamal Hassan, the raison d'être to watch this movie, turns in one of the most celebrated performances of Tamil cinema. His portrayal of Velu Nayakar is a masterful demonstration of Stanislavski's "Method Acting" technique (practiced by Marlon Brando--one of Kamal's idols—who played the Don in “The Godfather”). As the character passes through three decades, there is something studied about Kamal's body language, make-up, glasses and costumes that add authenticity to his portrayal. For example, study his gait throughout the movie -- the confidence and dash of the recalcitrant youth fades gradually, as he becomes a loner and in the end, all that is left in him is a slight stoop (watch him as he walks towards the dead body of his son).
There are a number of scenes in the movie where Kamal has the viewer in a trance. Lets first look at some of the little gems before moving on to the movie’s powerhouse scenes:
1. The scene where he, along with Janakaraj, goes to the house of the policeman (whom he killed) to give some money to the family. There, he sees the policeman’s kid who is mentally challenged. The feelings of shock and guilt overwhelm him. The way Kamal reacts to Janakaraj and the comment he makes to the policeman’s wife are poignant.
2. The scene in the hospital where he threatens the irresponsible doctor and forces the latter to treat a dying infant—this could’ve easily been a clichéd scene but watch Kamal chide his stooge (played by ‘Delhi’ Ganesh with his trademark assurance)-- his body language and the pitch of his voice are just right. What makes the scene special is the way he apologizes to the doctor (who saves the infant’s life) for his petulance—it makes us smile in acknowledgement. And, also makes us realize the cleverness in sidestepping a cliché.
3. In the second half of the movie, there is a brilliantly scripted scene when Nasser visits Kamal Hassan in his prison cell, asking him to bless his grandson outside the courtroom the following day. When Nasser warns Kamal Hassan about a possible death sentence, the latter says, “Aiyya, naan 10 vayasiliye sethurukka vendiyavanga.” In this sequence, the Master Actor perfectly expresses the frailty of the character with his intonation. And, when he agrees to satisfy Nasser’s wish, watch him bob a little after a pause.
4. The climax outside the court (actually shot at Anna University) is one of the most evocative, poetically just sequences ever created. In this scene, there is, of course, the famous “Neenga Nallavaraa? Kettavaraa?” line. But there is a small gem of a moment that the viewer might’ve not noticed—as Kamal is about to go inside the court, Janakaraj runs to him and says, “Nayakkarey, nee kavala padaatha naaykarey.” When a constable tries to shove Janakaraj, Kamal grabs the constable’s shirt for a second before he lets go of him—the Don is hors de combat but the authority and impulsiveness hasn’t died...what a telling nuance.
Now, to the three most special moments that made “Nayagan” the classic it is:
1. The famous “dead body” scene: I usually have trouble deciding which is the most brilliant sequence in the movie—this one or the next on my list. But I have decided that this is it—I recently watched this scene and decided that this was the scene where the buildup, the background score, the camera angles and Kamal’s emoting have a synergy that hypnotizes the viewer the most [for those Tamil Cinema Illiterates reading this review, I am referring to the scene where Kamal sees the dead boy of his son and breaks down]. I think one of the reasons why this scene finds an indelible place in the viewer’s hearts is that it is an ‘extended’ sequence. It is not a hurried one, fashioned to elicit a quick tear from the fairer sex. The fact that we in the audience know that the Don’s son is dead before the Don, provides further impetus to the drama—we are watching in rapt attention as to how he will react. The escalation in his anxiousness is spellbinding—as he sees an unusually high number of visitors (who are introduced gradually), he slowly realizes that ‘something’ is wrong. But when one of his old chums says “my son is your son,” he immediately realizes the magnitude of the problem—the precise editing (which immediately cuts to a close up of Kamal eliciting a gasp) is priceless. The way he shouts, “Surya,” as he goes searching for his son and the shot where he looks out the window are heartbreaking moments captured by P.C. Sreeram’s camera. Of course, the final frame has already carved its niche in the history of Tamil Cinema as the greatest breakdown moment that leaves the viewer with a heavy heart. It is a tribute to Kamal’s ability as an actor that this scene remains till this day, the most effective scene of its kind in spite of us never seeing the dead body (the usual Tamil Cinema scene would’ve earned its shock/grief value by showing us the corpse).
2. As far as writing is concerned (dialogues by Balakumaran), the scene that I am about to describe takes the cake. This is the scene in the second half where Kamal’s daughter who saw a guy (who had raped ARS’ daughter) getting his comeuppance from Janakaraj and co., confronts Kamal for his violent ways. This happens at a point in the movie where we have come to accept the ways of Kamal and Janakaraj. But we also see veracity in the daughter’s (played by the astonishingly beautiful Karthika) words. Balakumaran’s lines brim with power and Kamal superbly delivers the “avangala niratha sollu...naan nirutharen” monologue. The scene gains further momentum when Kamal slaps his daughter (who, in trying to make a point, slapped Janakaraj) and then tries to apologize. Janakaraj is wonderful in the part where he tries to quell Kamal’s anger (When Kamal asks “Yaar Kitaendhu Vandhudhu Indha Kai Neetra Pazhakkam?” he replies, “Namakkitaendhu dhaan.”).
3. The scene where Kamal goes to visit the Assistant Commissioner at his house and realizes (in the Commissioner’s absence) that the latter had married his daughter. This is one of those scenes where Mani Ratnam raises our expectations in one direction and leads us in another wholly unexpected, fascinating direction. As we’re getting ready for a confrontation between Nasser and Kamal, the scene toys with us by using Kamal’s POV. His expression of shock after seeing his daughter’s photograph (a photograph of Nasser and his daughter) is quite a moment. Then as he sees his daughter (now, in person), he embarks on a three-minute journey into an array of stunning facial expressions, the best being the way he reacts to his daughter not wanting him to see his grandson. The way he conveys his hurt in the last frame of this scene shows us why this performance is unique.
Well, there are several other scenes that demand at least a line each but I realize that I have already dedicated about ten paragraphs (!) to this performance that it is time to move on to the others:
I have come to realize that no great movie can be regarded as a classic without good supporting performances. This is one of the reasons why several one-man shows (like “Sornamukhi” and “Amaidhi Padai”) are very entertaining but not exactly unforgettable. “Nayagan” is too good a movie to make its supporting cast pro forma. It is actually the opposite—every character makes an impression. Janakaraj is the best among the secondary players, giving a fine, understated portrayal as Kamal’s right hand. He exists in almost all of the key scenes and proves to be an apt foil for Kamal. Sharanya (making her debut) has a quiet way of infusing life into her character which was rarely exploited in her other films. As mentioned before, Karthika (playing Kamal’s daughter) is brilliant in a couple of emotionally charged scenes. “Delhi” Ganesh sparkles in the scene where Kamal visits a dying old lady in the hospital. “Nizhalgall” Ravi gives a perfect reaction shot to Kamal calling him “Nayakarey” for the first [and last] time. Tinnu Anand plays the mentally challenged kid with tremendous conviction by not going over the top. And last but not the least, Nasser as the conscientious police officer, nails it with his body language—right from his first shot in a jeep, he looks the part and performs well.
Illayaraja’s “Thenpaandi Seemayile” is the stuff of legends, a tune that probably served as a lullaby for every kid born in the late eighties (the way “Kannae Kalaimaane” was, in the early eighties). The maestro’s tune and the accompanying flute music serve to enhance several key moments, right from the title sequence till the last frame of the movie. It is fascinating how this song, even as a stand-alone piece, evokes images of the movie as though they were created in tandem…talk about inseparability. “Nee Oru Kaadhal Sangeetham” follows Kamal and Sharanya around some beautiful Mumbai locales and has Mani Ratnam’s stamp all over it in terms of picturisation. The tune, the voices of Mano and Chitra and some beautiful lyrics (“Kadarkarai Kaatre Vazhiyai Vidu…Dhevadhai Vandhaall Ennodu”) combine to give us one of those evergreen melodies. And, Illayaraja indulges in a bout of unfettered singing in “Nila Adhu Vaanathu Maelae.”
P.C. Sreeram and Thotta Tharani both won National awards (if I am right) for their tremendous contribution to the look of the movie. Sreeram’s camerawork is magical—the sea shore shots are spectacular. And, the way he captures Kamal’s emotions with close-ups (his protégé Jeeva is his master’s equal in this respect) that almost have a lyrical quality. Tharani’s artwork deserves special mention for its simplicity. Over the years, he has espoused a flamboyant style which is hardly evident here but is really the reason why we are transported ‘seamlessly’ to another world…
As I take my hat off to bow to the team behind this movie, I realize that one thing is never too late for a movie this great. And, that is a standing ovation.