Sigaram

 

����� Over the years, especially with exposure to American dramas, my appreciation for realistic films has increased manifold. Deeply personal character studies are rarities in Tamil Cinema where only a select few filmmakers like Mani Ratnam, Vasanth and Bala seem to be interested in exploring the subtleties, vulnerabilities and complexities of human nature.

 

����� Late. Ananthu (a long-time associate of K. Balachander) gave us one of the best films in this genre with "Sigaram," an intimate portrait of a music director, played by SPB.� Told in flashbacks, this presents the highs and lows of an artist as a series of vignettes that seem self-contained at times, but are tightly woven into a smooth narrative.� With an eye for realism and a talent for profound dialogue, Ananthu makes this a memorable entry into the annals of parallel cinema.

 

����� �Sigaram� is the story of a brilliant music director, played by SPB.� It shows us a man who may be a colossus in his chosen field but still is every bit human when facing the trials and tribulations of his personal life.� At the start of the movie, we seem him as a 50-ish man happily married to a lovely lady, played by Rekha.� His only son (Anand Babu) is a drunkard who wastes his talent in music by indulging in smoking, drinking and books (there is a split-second shot that shows an unconscious Anand Babu and a book next to him titled, �Too Young To Die�).� Mid-way through the movie, unable to bear a personal tragedy, SPB becomes catatonic.� His friend (�Nizhalgal� Ravi) enlists the help of a doctor (Radha), who actually is SPB�s ex-flame.� How the doctor�s words, more than her medicine, help SPB rise from the ashes like a phoenix is what �Sigaram� is all about.

 

����� One of the things that I admire about realistic films is the expanse of topics that they seem to cover, without actually sounding like sermons.� Like �Anbe Sivam� which was able to address emotional need, atheism, communism, friendship, true love and loneliness, �Sigaram� makes quite a few telling points about the perils of alcoholism stemming out of depression, the need for self-belief and the willpower that is needed in the face of adversity.� One of the subtler points it makes (and this is evident throughout the movie) is about the need for companionship, irrespective of age.� In Rekha and Radha, the movie gives SPB two women who act more than a wife or a love interest � they give SPB a friend to depend on and a shoulder to lean on.� The movie emphasizes this at several moments that seem to find truth in the banalities of everyday life.

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����� All the artistes involved, give controlled performances, internalizing emotions at several places:

 

����� The prowess of SPB, the great playback singer, has attained legendary status over the past three decades.� But it was "Sigaram" that introduced us to SPB, the actor capable of hitting all the right notes.� SPB has an underlying sweetness and innocence that is well used by the Director�of course it is the mark of a talented actor that we never, for a moment, doubt his emotions.� The way he explains the tragedy of his life to �Nizhalgall� Ravi (in referring to his son, a drunkard, he says, �He is committing the longest suicide�) is a fine example of the actor tapping the humanity of the character.� In a quiet, disquieting scene, SPB leaves no doubt in the minds of the viewers about the power of silence.� It is the sequence following Rekha�s death�there is a series of shots (SPB and Ravi in the car, SPB having a prolonged look at the corpse�) that have absolutely no background music.� In fact, there is no sound at all.� �The silence that comes along with death� (Director Vasanth�s words) is almost unbearable, in this sequence.� His loneliness is emphasized by a shot that shows him entering the huge house (the emptiness is so palpable) after performing the final rites.� And, as he glances at a photograph of Rekha, the silence is broken but so is his heart and this is depicted with so much sensitivity that we share the grief of the maestro.� We share his loneliness.� His feelings become inseparable from ours�and as we hear SPB sing �Pakkaththil Neeyumillai�Paarvaiyil Eeramillai,� the scene has transported us to a point where it takes a moment or two to recuperate.

 

����� Rekha, in the first half, and Radha, in the second, give two wonderful, underrated performances.� Rekha had a short career as a leading lady but she gave some fantastic turns as a character artiste in features like �Punnagai Mannan,� �En Bommukkutti Ammavukku� and �Guna.�� In Sigaram too, she plays the loving wife with grace and understanding.� She and SPB exhibit a lot of chemistry in spite of the mature characters.� Little gestures like SPB thanking her for coffee help us understand the refined friendship that exists in their marriage.� The couple even manages to insert some playfulness (sans silliness) into their interactions, my favorite one being the scene where SPB asks Rekha if �Indian music acts as a contraceptive� and her succinct reply (trust me there is no vulgarity in this scene).

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����� Radha surprisingly finds her moorings as the old Doctor who sees her long lost love (SPB) after a gap of more than two decades.� The Director shows a lot of class in his handling of their relationship.� While SPB and Radha do look awkward as a couple in their late 20�s (or early 30�s for that matter), they are much better in their later scenes.� Radha�s single-minded devotion to SPB�s recovery and her reasons for her continued resilience (in spite of failures like their love affair), are inspirational.� In fact, this aspect of Radha�s character makes it very unique.� In Tamil cinema (with exceptions like Seetha in �Pudhiya Paadhai� or Suhasini in �Sindhu Bhairavi�) we seldom see female characters as forthright and assured as Dr. Priya of �Sigaram.�� One of her best dialogues comes in the scene where she advises Anand Babu:

 

����� Anand Babu:� �Love is short.� But forgetting is long.�

����� Radha: ���� �Understanding takes still longer.��

 

����� Ramya Krishnan�s brazen, liberal character is another interesting one.� Her views on love, sex and life in general, are quite new to Tamil Cinema.� She brings out the sorry state of her character extremely well in the scene where she tells Radha about her bitter experiences.� The way she masks her frustration with a fa�ade of effrontery suits her character perfectly.� �Nizhalgall� Ravi is perfectly cast as the 2^nd grade music director whose attitude towards the SPB character is an eerie mix of admiration and jealousy.� And, the expansive actor brings this out beautifully in several sequences, peaking in the scene where he confesses to SPB that he stole the latter�s tunes (SPB�s reaction to this is very poignant).� Charlie raises some laughs as the chorus singer but isn�t given too much scope to tickle our funny bone. �Standing out like a sore thumb is Anand Babu (son of veteran actor Nagesh), who with his over-acting remains a one-dimensional caricature.

 

����� SPB shouldered yet another burden for this movie�score its music, besides singing most of the songs.� And, he comes out with flying colors in each of these areas:

 

�Vannam Konda Vennilavey� is a fascinating number that has all the ingredients of an evergreen melody � a soulful rendition, profound lyrics and a tune that can mollify the most restless child (The way the Director gives us an insight into the creation of the song is one of the many instances of the director�s quest for realism).� There is a scene where physically challenged kids visit an ailing SPB and sing this song for him � it has a numbing effect.

 

�Agaram Ippo Sigaram� is sung beautifully by Jesudass and has some very thoughtful lyrics about ageing and relationships (�Pasi aara paarvai poadhum � parimaara vaarthai poadhum�).� �Muthamaa� is a fast-paced number that is given the necessary zest by singers Surendhar and S.P. Shailaja.

 

On the whole, this is one of those little gems that has gone unnoticed because it belongs to a genre �- realistic cinema -- that Tamil audiences, to their detriment, continue to ignore.