Who are kings, if not mere mortal men of flesh and blood, but those who aspire to be immortalized by their deeds. A story of kings can also be a story of men, which is what Mani Ratnam chooses to show in his two-part magnum opus. He humanizes the kings, putting emotion ahead of their ambition, and tries to create more poignant moments than epic ones on screen. He almost treats Ponniyin Selvan like a grandly orchestrated play where the actors and their lines are more important than any other aspect, be it the landscape, the fortresses, the weapons, or the wars. Maybe that’s not what we expected when we went in to see PS-I, which may have been cause for bit of heartache, but we knew the maker’s intentions quite well when we went in to watch PS-II.
For a movie set on a scale bigger
than most Indian movies, PS-II narrates events occurring over a relatively
short period of time. You could say that the entire movie is based around one
grand conspiracy with little or no space for subplots in between. Mani Ratnam
trusts the quality of the source material and the main thread of events to keep
the viewer engaged through the entire duration. And, it is no small vindication
of Kalki’s epic that even with bare-minimum detailing of the complex evolution
of the story, the events keep you invested almost through the entire run time.
Mani Ratnam chooses to plainly narrate many of the key details/events without
going into how they might have occurred. For example, how Nandini maintains
communication channels with the Pandya spies and how she manages to escape all
the attention of palace guards to get to their hideout is anybody’s guess. This
is amongst the most important events in the scheme of things, but is shown on
screen like it is a casual evening saunter for Nandini. Again, what makes these
scenes work is that Mani Ratnam manages to firmly establish very early in the
movie (and through PS-I) the emotion that drives these characters. Therefore,
even though we may find ourselves questioning the ‘how’ of certain things that
happen on screen, we never question the ‘why’. The ‘why’ is very strong and
very clear, which is what gives life to the movie.
PS-II is all about Nandini,
Aditha Karikalan, Arunmozhi Varman, and Vandiyathevan, with Kundavai having a
couple of key contributions. And with the approach that Mani Ratnam has chosen,
the burden on the shoulders of the actors portraying these characters was
immense. Especially, Nandini and Karikalan; it is the crescendo of the
simmering tension of years between the two characters that is the high point
and the driving force of the movie. It’s amazing to think that the two
characters whose equation controls the whole movie come face-to-face just once
and that too for a precious few minutes. But, that moment is seized so
powerfully by the actors that you are not left with an iota of doubt about
‘why’ these characters are doing what they are doing. Here again, Mani Ratnam
treats it almost like a stage play – minimalistic camera angles, minimal
editing, just two actors who know the sheer weight of the moment and execute it
to perfection. In fact it’s so perfectly done, it feels like the climax and
everything after that seems like a footnote to the story of Nandini and Aditha
Karikalan. That’s both a tribute and a smirk at how Mani Ratnam has made the
Ponniyin Selvan saga – while he has managed to capture the emotional essence of
the main characters, he has not added (perhaps intentionally) a kinetic energy
to the narrative, which would have made the PS duology a masterpiece in its own
right. One aspect that non-Tamil audiences may not quite connect with would be
the fuss about the Chola empire. At no stage in the movie does the screenplay
make an attempt to show what the Chola empire and its kings mean to its people,
and why its survival is so important. Except for the personal connection with
the characters, it’s unlikely that the audience feel any allegiance or goodwill
toward the empire.
The frames are rich, the
locations have been picked carefully, but yet, at no point during the two films
did you feel that you are watching an epic. It’s difficult to put a finger on
what would make a movie an epic; but whatever it is, went missing in PS. Maybe
it is a combination of many factors, including the music, but it never really
came together for PS, which also may be because the team never intended it to
be that way. In fact, Mani Ratnam makes very economical use of Rahman’s music,
choosing rather to hop directly to the next main event rather than linger in
moments with music and songs. And, that decision has worked well for the movie
with things always moving ahead at a rapid pace. The only moment when you
actually want it to slow down and linger with the music is when Aga Naga plays
in the background of the most Mani Ratnamesque scene in the entire movie, you
just don’t want that scene to end. It says a lot about the sheer skill of Mani
Ratnam in such situations when you realize that in a movie of nearly 3 hours
with kings, queens, wars, conspiracies, mind games, politics, and treachery,
the one scene you want to watch over and over again is where two lovers (well,
not yet at that point perhaps) meet each other on a nondescript islet in the
middle of a river. Mani Ratnam needs no context, no character building, and no
set up (this is the first time the characters face each other in PS-II); he
executes a mellifluous moment of beauty. In fact, this is the only time you see
Mani Ratnam add his signature or flavor to Ponniyin Selvan. This is his home
ground, and we hope he makes love stories with such beautiful moments rather
than go after large epics, which may be his ambition, but are certainly not his
strongest suit.
One grouse that many may have
against PS-II is about how the wars and confrontations have been shot. It’s
almost like Mani Ratnam treated them like functional bits in the narrative
because they just had to be shown on screen. He just wanted to get them over
with and has put very little imagination or resources into it. That shows on
screen. Perhaps in the pre-Bahubali era of Indian cinema, this might have
passed muster, like a Jodha Akbar did. But, the benchmark has now been set and
Mani Ratnam should have been up for the challenge when executing an epic that
deserved to be treated like one. This is not to say that all such scenes fall
flat, the moment before the interval does pack a punch. However, this scene again
shows how Mani Ratnam is more comfortable in the subtle rather than the over
the top!
PS-II is beautifully and
powerfully orchestrated at the emotional level, with the motives of the central
characters being conveyed very effectively. Mani Ratnam shows that even comfort
castings, like Prabhu as a military leader, can work if the emotional anchor of
the movie is in the right place. The same Prabhu looked so out of place as a
strong right-hand man in Marakkar, which tried to be epic without bothering in
the least about the ‘why’ of any of the characters. However, directors of both
these movies could have been more careful with the use and control over the extra
actors.
Watching PS-II is like watching
an engrossingly written play being performed by skilled actors. The scale and
the backdrop don’t really matter because the movie lives and breathes through
the emotions of its lead characters. The only thing you have to do as an
audience is to not walk in with an epic in mind.
