Review: "Chidambaram"
S. Rajeev
Aravindan's untimely death in 1992 has meant the loss of one of
the boldest young filmmakers in India: someone who was a brilliant
political filmmaker comparable to Ritwick Ghatak ("Jukti Tappo ar Gappo"),
Mrinal Sen ("Calcutta71", "Padatik", "Chorus"), Govind Nihalani
("Aakrosh"), et al. And his cartoon series, "Little People and a Big
World", was the best political cartoon series I have ever followed, not
excluding Garry Trudeau and Doonesbury.
Srinivasan Rajeev
------------------------------
Aravindan's "Chidambaram": exploring crime and punishment.
G. Aravindan burst upon the Malayalam film scene in 1973 with
"Uttarayanam" (Solstice), winning a National Award and serving notice
of an uncompromising dedication to quality in film-making. This
enigmatic film was an elegy to a lost generation of post-independence
youth which had lost its moorings in a melancholy world of existential
sorrow and angst. Thereafter, Aravindan has been the enfant terrible
of Malayalam cinema; an eclectic cinematic talent, he has established
himself as a worthy successor to the likes of Satyajit Ray and Ritwik
Ghatak. Never one to shrink from polemic or controversy, he has
consistenly made complex, thought-provoking films, even if some of
them were rather uneven. Like Ray, Aravindan takes complete artistic
control of his films: as a skilled musician, he composes his own,
notably spare, background music; as a well-known political cartoonist,
he brings both a keen visual sense and a sharp, critical edge to his
characters and plots. Once again like Ray, Aravindan has managed to
assemble fine ensemble casts - the brilliant cinematographer Shaji
(who went on to much fame for his directorial debut, the 1989
"Piravi") and the noted actor Gopi have both worked on several
Aravindan films. Aravindan has also experimented with various genres
- he has made a children's film - "Kummatty" (The Bogeyman), the
semi-documenatary "Thampu" (Circus), as well as about a dozen other
films, regularly garnering praise and national and international
awards for his depth of vision and his carefully crafted images. One
of his most interesting creations was the 1976 "Kanchana Seetha" (The
Golden Sita), where he retells an episode from the Ramayana - the film
represents the absent Sita as nature; the actors are all members of a
tribe that claims to be direct descendents of the Suryavamsa.
"Chidambaram", 1986, named after the famed temple town in Tamil Nadu,
is based on a novella by C. V. Sriraman. It is a bit of a departure
for Aravindan - unlike his usual multi-layered, dense tales, he has
chosen a simple, straightforward story of betrayal, guilt, crime and
punishment. And despite his declared intent to avoid professional
actors, he has wrung excellent performances from some established
stars. Smita Patil, Gopi and Srinivasan have all contributed
award-winning performances, and Shaji has turned in a technical
tour-de-force - he has given the film a dark, brooding, oppressive
presence; and there are some magnificent tracking shots of the
fleeing, guilt-ridden Gopi. Unfortunately, the print that I saw was so
dark it was often hard to make out details - it may well be that this
film must be seen on the big screen.
The film is set in the picturesque High Ranges of the Western Ghats on
the Kerala-Tamil Nadu border, where there is a peculiarly exploitative
feudal plantation culture: the workers are in effect serfs, their
womenfolk preyed on by the bosses at whim. Sankaran (Gopi), a
sensitive and lonely introvert, is one of the supervisors, and he
tries to treat the workers with some sympathy and dignity. He is
especially friendly with the gentle, rather bewildered Muniandi
(Srinivasan in the role of his life). When Muniandi goes home to get
married to the pretty Sivakami (Smita Patil), Sankaran accompanies him
to his Tamil Nadu village, and participates as a guest of honor. These
scenes have some of the best music I have noticed in Aravindan's
films: very earthy, haunting Tamil folk melodies, primarily praises of
Lord Siva. These tunes stay with you after the film, especially in
view of the significance they have to Sivakami.
The shy young bride Sivakami comes to the estate, where she is
fascinated by the beauty of the landscape, but Muniandi warns her
sternly to stay at home - he knows only too well that a pretty girl
like her is likely to attract the unwelcome attention of the bosses;
indeed, there is a terrifying scene where she is accosted by John, one
of the supervisors. However, in general, she lives a happy life,
except when she is homesick - the folk tunes in the background are
touchingly nostalgic.
Sivakami meets Sankaran when he comes over to bring her the
photographs he took at their wedding. Slowly, there develops a rapport
between the two, as Sankaran helps her write letters to her parents
and lets her listen to his radio - she clearly admires him in her
wide-eyed, innocent way. There is no hint of anything more between
them, although the lonely Sankaran is captivated by her: in fact, he
ruins a friendly, drunken gathering with some visitors from out of
town when John says something raunchy about Sivakami - Sankaran rushes
to her defense.
Then one day, Muniandi, who has been given a night shift, comes home
unexpectedly, and finds the door barred - there's someone in his house
with his wife. Disgraced and humiliated, Muniandi turns vengeful: he
hacks Sivakami to death and hangs himself. Sankaran, racked by guilt,
flees, tortured by the deaths of two decent people that he has to
blame himself for. Now an unwashed, unshaven vagabond dragging himself
from arrack shop to arrack shop, trying to drown his sorrows in drink
and drugs, he says to the camera, as though in justification: "And
that's how I started on this journey."
The rest of the film, the real core of the story, is an exploration of
one man's attempt to expiate and atone for his sins - in an age-old
tradition, he wanders from temple town to pilgrim center, and from
whorehouse to opium-den, looking for some answers to the fundamental
questions that he faces - what he is to do with the rest of his life,
what he owes to the dead Sivakami and Muniandi, how he can make up for
his mistakes. In some ways, this part of the film is difficult because
it is unfocused and confusing, a medley of images; but then, it is a
good reflection of Sankaran's state of mind, which is also unfocused
and confusing. As an exploration of guilt in the Indian social
milieu, this section is notable: I believe that by upbringing and
acculturation Indians are ambivalent about guilt - on the one hand,
the notion of dharma and responsibility to oneself and others implies
that deviations are grave sins; on the other hand, the notion of karma
and the inevitability of redemption in some later life make guilt more
bearable. Thus there are no easy answers to Sankaran's dilemmas - he
has to come to terms with himself, and his chosen path to this is,
apparently, self-excoriation. The film ends ambiguously - Sankaran
comes finally to the vast temple complex at Chidambaram, one of
India's holiest shrines; and there, her face scored as though with the
sickle Muniandi used on her, he finds Sivakami, the keeper of shoes.
But is it really Sivakami? Did she not die at the estate? Is Sankaran
hallucinating? Or is the vision of Sivakami he sees in the woman an
indication that he has finally, by mortifying his flesh, paid for his
sins?
One of the best Indian films of the 1980s, "Chidambaram" is well worth
the intellectual effort it demands of the viewer. And as a serious
cinematic analysis of guilt in the Indian context, it is without peer.
Incidentally, it won several National Awards - for direction and
acting.
Chandramouli Venkatesh - CS
In article <m1i5ap...@exodus.Eng.Sun.COM> raj...@travancore.Eng.Sun.COM writes:
>I wrote this review in Nov. 1990 for "India Currents" magazine. Sadly,
>Aravindan's untimely death in 1992 has meant the loss of one of
>the boldest young filmmakers in India: someone who was a brilliant
>political filmmaker comparable to Ritwick Ghatak ("Jukti Tappo ar Gappo"),
>Mrinal Sen ("Calcutta71", "Padatik", "Chorus"), Govind Nihalani
>("Aakrosh"), et al. And his cartoon series, "Little People and a Big
>World", was the best political cartoon series I have ever followed, not
>excluding Garry Trudeau and Doonesbury.
>
>Srinivasan Rajeev
>
>------------------------------
>
>Aravindan's "Chidambaram": exploring crime and punishment.
>
endhA mOnEy ? Aravindan sAru marichhu pOnadhu ngangaLukku ippO thAn ariyumO?
ithhini late Ayittu ... !
And yeah! Chidambaram was pretty good though I personally didn't like piravi.
But why is that all these "award winning Malayalam movies" are always
tragedies? [at least the ones I have seen, starting from chemmIn down to
mathilugaL to malamukhilkaLidEy dheivam ...]
CV