Thoughts on Mani Ratnam's 'Iruvar'

Before the title of the movie roles onto the screen there is a quick
almost obligatory message that informs us this is not a true story.
Point blank and bland, automatically implying that the content can
and will be easily relatable to some very significant event or events or
possibly even people. It almost serves as a strict voice warning us not
to think of a pink elephant and there pops into our head without
apology, the bewildered pink elephant.
The screen suddenly bursts into the sound of a moving train and we
are given a quick view of a young boy looking out of the window of the
train. We do not see what he is seeing and we do not know what
makes him smile with a sense of quickening eager anticipation. A split
second later the silent title rolls onto pitch black canvas and curiosity
over that boy is filed away for scrutiny at a later point because its hard
to think of anything else when the oddly forewarning and thrilling title
washes over you. Iruvar; a title that is indicative and evocative of
tender closeness and a strong bond between two people who
seamlessly integrate into one, is ironically displayed without the
slightest hint of sound or dash of colour. The bleak indication of such
an emotionally compelling, almost poetic word injected a sense of
foreboding coupled with an involuntary tremble in me. The way it was
displayed was very telling of turbulence which was they very opposite
emotion you would expect to feel given the meaning of the word.
Throughout the movie I kept wondering how people could watch it
without immediately drawing a parallel to the TamilNadu political
giants, M.G.Ramachandran and Kalaignar Karunanidhi because that
was all I was doing. Of course, I watched it many years after the film

released and by then there were already countless articles and reviews
and critical analysis pieces that delved into the political fabric that the
film was built on so I cannot say that my viewing was not coloured by
the many years of opinions and debates.
The story revolved around Anandhan (Mohanlal) and Tamizhselvan
(Prakashraj) whose friendship was very real and believable because
they were not the typical bros that you are overdosed with in cinema
today but are such stark opposites that one wonders what it was that
could possibly create such a strong bond between the two of them.
Their friendly banter and arguments make for light viewing but you
feel the subtle undercurrents of the serious nature of what they argue
about; the steadfast passionate opinionated tamizh scholar poet
(Prakashraj) against the more carefree, cherubic aspiring actor
(Mohanlal).
The film is carried through not only by the compelling performances of
the lead characters complemented well by the other smaller parts but
also by the writing, the cinematography and the setting of every scene.
The music of course, in my opinion, deserves a standing ovation and
definitely more than a one line mention. But coming back to the other,
more technical aspects of the movie, what struck me as most
impressive was the tone and mood of the entire film.
Keeping aside the period (1950) that it was staged and set in, the
political narrative and the turbulence in the heart of two friends within
the same political party was heightened by the lighting in many
places. While there is not one instance of overexposure or overly bright
light, there are songs like Narumugaiye depicted in black and white

which not only keeps with the reality of films that were shot in that
period but also lends a bit of mystery to the entire picturization.
Just like how cinema in that era slowly progressed from black and
white to colour, so does the lighting scheme in the movie. This actually
lends another ironic tint to the narrative because while the film
shooting and the songs and the general light of the entire movie
becomes slowly more bright and colourful, the lives of the
protagonists seems to become more convoluted and filled with a
certain bleakness or I would say, blackness.
The viewer cannot help but be completely entangled in the political
web of state politics which disrupts the careful balance that the two
friends had unconsciously found between each other. I would have
expected politics to make for another boring, preachy sermon laden
with heavy drama. But with the inclusion of these two central
characters and their story of friendship marred by the political party
they both become a part of and having a reference point to two leaders
of TamilNadu made for a gripping viewing experience.
In the scene where Tamizh shows Anandhan how much power and
responsibility lies in the hands of a political leader just by raising
Anandhans hand to a swarming crowd that stood below which
immediately responded with frenzied shouts and slogans of approval,
there is a head rush that made me realize how much overwhelming
power politicians could wield and how we were all mere pawns in the
bigger picture.
If the political scenario has changed in terms of how people are not as
gullible and susceptible to political power and authority as they once
was what has not changed since that scene is the amount of influence

that a film actor, a Superstar, can have on the public. It goes beyond
reason and indeed, beyond basic good sense and not making a fool of
oneself. We know what it is like to abandon all caution and shame in
front of a film star whom we revere and worship. We know that
everything on screen is just a well played part but reasoning and logic
always take a back seat when we finally see them in flesh and blood.
Which is what happens to Tamizhs wife Maragadham(Revathy) when
she meets her husbands best friend, the great actor Anandhan.
Whereas on the other end of the spectrum there is Kalpana (Aishwarya
Rai) who is representative of that very small subset of people who do
not lose their head while facing a super celebrity but instead, delve
into the deeper characteristics traits of that star and humanizes him for
herself, for him and for the audience. But it must be borne that it takes
another actor, a superstar in her own right, to humanize someone of
Anandhans stature.
Which brings me to the performances. Aishwarya transforms
completely from the homely yet intelligent Pushpanjali to the
modern mischievous sharp-tongued Kalpana with ease and the two
characters have been etched in such a way that their essence is the
same, only their deliverance of that essence is altered which gives
birth to such refreshingly varied characters. Revathy and Tabu depict
the situation of women in that time period who had to deal with the
husbands having more than one wife with only subtle and silent
indications of internal pain, with the requisite subtlety and strength.
Tabus entry into Prakashrajs life and the scene that follows with the
hauntingly powerful and stirring rendition of Unnodu naan irundha
after they

make love is one of the most wrenching and compelling scenes in the
entire film, wrought with silent and poetic emotions.
With regard to Prakashraj and Mohanlal, their names are a dead give
away to the kind of performances that they would have given to such
powerful roles. Being directed by a director as intelligent and endowed
with vision as Mani Ratnam only heightens their natural acting
prowess. Somewhere along the line, a choice has to be made between
the two friends and I could not help but be drawn towards Anandhan
which made me wonder if painting M.G.Rs (I know I am being
politically incorrect) character in a way that made the audience
sympathize with him, was something that the director had no choice
about.
It is not as though Tamizhselvan had any undesirable or immoral traits,
he just felt a lot more human with his fixed view points, especially
about the transience of cinema, which never wavered even when his
best friend left the party and started another (clearly more successful)
party of his own.
The tussle between the current and the former Chief Minister is only
too familiar especially if you are
watching the movie in the 21st century and are fully aware of all the
consequences and repercussions that took place ever since the split
and how people are caught being yo-yos between the spectrum of two
political giants who are caught up in personal tussles as much as they
are in major political issues. In fact it has only gotten worse in the last
many years with politics taking a turn for the nasty, ugly and uncouth.
Literally. But that is beside the point.

The music in the movie was truly groundbreaking if for nothing but the
sheer recreation of the music of a bygone era, with an entirely new
sound to it. Rahman literally took something that had already been
created and was already in existence, and transformed it into a whole
new realm of music that enthralled and caused a chill to shiver down
your spine. The lyrics written by Vairamuthu for Udal Manukku
commanded a fierce demand for respect and fear and while in the
context of the film was written by Tamizhselvan for a song in one of
Anandhans movies there was, once again, a hint of irony in the lyrics.
Nam vetru paathaiyil narigal vanthall, virundhu vaippom vinnukku (If
any foxes dare cross our victorious path, we will lay them as a feast for
the heavens above). While Anandhans raced ferociously on horses
with his men galloping behind him, mercilessly slaying bad guys to
the lyrics written by his best friend, the same words seem fitting when
the man who penned those lyrics when his friends acting dreams came
true, asked his to give up that dream in order to keep his place in the
party.
Unnodu naan irundha ovvoru mani thuliyum is sensuous enough to
make you flush and yet respect and understand the beauty of the
physical attachment that has sprung between two adults who know
that they are fighting with fire and enjoy the warm flame upon their
skins. The clever camera angle with the two lovers positioned on
opposing sides with their cheeks in contact evokes an image of conflict
which finds peace when Tabu gives up the struggle and willingly gives
herself to Prakashraj heart body and soul.

The almost overly strong recitation of the poem and the faintly
resounding percussion in the background all adds perfectly to the
complexity and beauty of the situation.
In many ways, Iruvar could be framed as a politically incorrect and
controversial movie. If not for the disclaimer in the start of the movie,
the splendid performances of all the actors, the underlying subtext in
the plotline, the setting, the design, the music, the overwhelming
intelligence that a director can bring to the entire structure of his
movie, Iruvar could have ended badly. But it had all that it had and
more, and ended up being a launch pad for a lot of people and a lot of
things, but most significantly hope for the future of Tamil cinema and
the path ahead for an exciting film maker.

Iruvar The Doomed Masterpiece

vsnipz / April 5, 2012
Gopala Ratnam Subramaniam Iyer perhaps knew somewhere at the
back of his mind that the political saga he was about to embark on
after the hugely successful BOMBAY, could be doomed for failure.
What he perhaps never imagined was that he was about to create a
cinematic masterpiece so brilliant and haunting, neither government,
nor box-office could prevent it from engraving itself in the hearts and
minds of Indian cinephiles. IRUVAR was bold, not just for its
fictionalized exploration of the epic M.G. Ramachandran M.
Karunanidhi relationship, but for the cinematic trends Mani Ratnam
chose to break, or as some may argue, return to.
The 90s were the age of A.R. Rahmans Muqabla and Humma Humma.
Shankar had stormed into the scene with a string of commercial
spectacles. Audiences preferred action and gimmickry to the more
simplistic, script and character-oriented family dramas that dominated
the earlier years. Technology had taken over the Kodambakkam film
industry and filmmaking became an excuse to play with these new
toys. Audiences didnt seem to mind either, for to be awed and nothing
less, they went to the movies. Star or not, every producer was making
money.
And then there was Mani sir. Neither Kollywoods newly acquired toys,
nor Rahmans rhythms fascinated him anymore. At a time when
theatres boasted of their gargantuan cinemascope screens, Ratnam
stuck his middle finger up and shot his film in a classical 4:3 aspect
ratio, unthinkable in an industry that has refused to even consider

anything lesser than scope for decades. While other filmmakers flew to
exotic, colourful, foreign locations to shoot their songs, Mani sir chose
to stay home and shoot them in Black & White. Rahmans synthesized
sounds and loops were replaced with veenas and violins, thavils and
timpanis, brasses and bass.
In what was perhaps the riskiest of casting decisions, Ratnam cast a
living legend to play a past one. Such is the brilliance of Mohanlals
layered performance that minutes into the film, you forget the
thespians persona and are sold on Anandan being MGR. Equal to the
task was the relative rookie Prakash Raj as Tamizhchelvan (M.
Karunanidhi) who would go on to win the National Award for Best
Supporting Actor for his career-defining performance. Prakash Raj was
selected after talks with the initial choice, Nana Patekar failed,
following rejection of the role by several thespians such as
Mammootty, Kamal Haasan and Mithun Chakraborty. A magical
ensemble surrounded this duo, each leaving behind a memorable
presence regardless of screen time. Be it Revathy as Tamizhchelvans
demure wife or Gauthami as the abused heroine seeking refuge at
Anandans home, the detailing in their acts is impeccable. Lest we
forget the mesmerising Tabu in her cameo as Tamizhchelvans lover, or
Nasser commanding his scenes as Aiyya, the Anna Durai character. And
yes, there was Aishwarya Rai too, making her feature film debut,
impressive, yes, impressive, in a spunky double role.
Ratnam plays out the political saga linearly, starting from Anandans
days as a struggling actor to his chance meeting with Tamizhchelvan in
a studio set that sets the foundation for a friendship that would change
the very nature of politics in Tamil Nadu. Prakash Rajs role may have
been slotted in a Supporting Actor category, but let it not disguise the

fact that IRUVAR narrates a parallel story of two men, not just a sole
protagonist. Ratnam chronicles Anandan and Tamizhchelvans rise in
cinema and politics respectively through the first act, laying the seeds
for a meeting of political ideology and influence. Tamizhchelvan writes
politically and nationalistically charged lines which Anandan heroically
performs on screen, sending Tamil Nadus cinema-mad public into
frenzy. Anandan is the face of the fervor, his fans willing to dance to his
every tune, yet he doesnt know it. Tamizhchelvan spots a man capable
of defining history and in what is perhaps one of the films most
exhilarating scenes, strips Anandan off all his innocence, giving him
his first raw taste of power. Yet, Tamizhchelvan fears for the corruption
of politics by cinema, opposing the partys decision to recruit

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Thoughts on Mani Ratnam's 'Iruvar' 12/01/2016, 17:40
Anandan as a member. The stage is set for a brewing ideological clash
between two best friends, held together by one man, Aiyya (Anna
Durai). In one of the most telling scenes of the film, Ramani reminds
Anandan that he is late for a political rally, only to realize he already
knows it. Anandan takes Kalpana (based on Jayalalithaa) along for the
ride, strategically making his entrance at the rally in the middle of
Tamizhchelvans speech, just to test his power. When Tamizhchelvan
denies him a ministry position, Anandan knows he has what he needs
to fly solo. or enable JavaScript if it is disabled in your browser.
The epic battle scales heights Anandan and Tamizhchelvan perhaps
never imagined it would. In the midst of it all, Ratnam fashions a scene

of stupendous poignancy where the friends who have turned foes

come face to face. The mastery of Mohanlals and Prakash Rajs
performance speaks volumes without any words about the war which
has become bigger than them, escalated to a point of no return.
While IRUVAR is a fictionalized account of the MGR-Karunanidhi tale,
Ratnam doesnt shy away from anecdotal references. Like MGR,
Anandan is shown to have Keralite roots, he is accidentally shot by a
reigning villain during a movie shoot, MGRs move to provide every
unemployed man with a cycle-rickshaw to earn a living is referenced in
a song, even the oft-heard rumour of Jayalalithaa bearing an uncanny
resemblance to MGRs first wife is blatantly played out with the casting
of Aishwarya Rai in a double role. And this very quality of the film was
perhaps its undoing, for Ratnam failed to fictionalize his script enough
to escape the wrath of political parties. The film was initially denied a
censor certificate by a cowardly board that seemed more vested in the
interests of references to politicians still in the game. IRUVAR was
eventually cleared by a special revision committee, with severe
dialogue cuts, which Ratnam would mask with Rahmans scintillating
score, edited for dramatic impact. Despite the clearance, politicians
threatened legal and physical action if objectionable portions on the
Dravidian movement werent removed. Mani Ratnam did not relent,
but eventually, exhibitors did. Was it political vendetta that forced
them to do so, or a dumbed down audience more interested in the
kind of political film where a man becomes Chief Minister for a day,
jumps on buses and beats the living daylights out of goons, we may
never know.
What we do know is that IRUVAR, for its craft and Mani Ratnams
fearlessness, is a landmark in Tamil cinema. Santosh Sivans majestic
frames are studied by cinephiles all over India even today. Who needs

cinemascope for a film to look epic? Ratnam and Sivan reinforced that
the classical ratio still stood firm as the frame to capture the most
expressive compositions. Sivan deservedly won the National Award for
Best Cinematography for his work. Be it the previously cited scene of
Anandan realizing his power or the one where he speaks on stage with
the camera circling around during the speech, Sivans work blended
the classical style of the early days with movements better known to
the post-modern era. Yet, it is his use of natural light in static interior
compositions and spectacular deep-focus photography, rarely ever
seen in Indian films such as in the scenes below that exemplify his
mastery.
Equally significant is Suresh Urs editing which never allows a dull
moment in a film clocking in at 2 hours and 38 minutes. The
juxtaposition of shots is as meticulous as the shots themselves,
allowing performances to play out, milking each for emotion to the
maximum. The concept of less is more has never been exemplified
better in Indian cinema editing, as Urs is never insecure about staying
on shots without cutting away, as long as the shot itself is enhancing
and diversifying the value of the scene. It remains a pity Urs edit was
marred by censor cuts. The recently deceased Art Director Samir
Chanda often goes unmentioned in discussions on IRUVAR and
inexplicably so. The detailing of the time period is dexterous and
impeccable. From the movie sets that Anandan shoots in to the
detailing of the exteriors, Chandas work is exemplary.
IRUVAR sees Mani Ratnam speak a cinematic language that is perhaps
still alien to a majority of the Tamil mainstream audience. Yet, he
maintains a mainstream format of filmmaking, replete with lip-sync
song interludes, which he uses craftily as part of his narrative. One of
the most eye-popping of them is the politically charged Udal
mannukku, uyir thamizhukku interlude, voiced by actor Arvind

Swamy, shot in stunning Black & White, in angles and compositions

reminiscent of a Kurosawa battle scene, which finishes with a rousing
ovation at a local movie theatre.
A.R. Rahman brings back the style of the 50s and 60s in much of the
songs with nasally sung melodies, heavy use of the accordion and
harmonica, and even a superlative exploration of jazz and the blues in
Hello Mr. Ethirkatchi and Vennila Vennila respectively, the latter sung to
utmost perfection by the amazing Asha Bhosle. It is often argued that
at times the songs hamper IRUVARs flow, at one point, two of them
literally popping up back to back. But the music and picturization are
so wonderful, Ratnam makes it difficult for viewers to keep up their
complaints.
Fifteen years after IRUVARs release, or close to forty years since its
setting, the film remains topical even today. The DMK-AIADMK rivalry
in Tamil Nadu still prevails, the inseparable relationship between
politics and cinema still plagues creativity, Tamil filmmakers still fear to
tackle mature, political subjects, while the audience has moved
towards patronizing a brand of cinema that couldnt be farther away
from what Ratnam attempted with this film. Yet, IRUVAR will live on,
not just as Mani Ratnams greatest and boldest film till date, but also
the only, albeit unofficial cinematic account of Tamil Nadus political
history.
As I conclude this recollection of my favourite Tamil film of all time, Id
like to showcase the excerpt below that exemplifies every aspect of
IRUVARs craft, and ends with the films single-most memorable line.