The Mist of Capricorn (BH:D176)

January 26, 2012

Director Lenin Rajendran's movies have a lyrical and painting-like quality to them. Unfortunately they also remain only mildly popular and rather quickly leave the theaters. So I jumped at the opportunity to get into a special screening of his latest "Makaramanju" (Mist of Capricorn) at Kalabhavan Theater this morning. 

Based on the life of painter and king, Raja Ravi Varma, the movie is a visual delight. Serious students of the medium will have a plenty to learn from the camera work of Madhu Ambat. Each and every frame is gorgeous and glorious as befits the great naturalist painter. There is a very memorable minute long sequence of the extreme close up of the actors under the dark cloth that goes behind the grand old camera with the inverted image of a model on the photographic plate as the background. An example to go straight into cinematography textbooks. 

After delving in abundantly satisfying sensual detailing of his love story with a parallel to the myth of Pururavass & Urvashi, the movie delivers the timely, oft-repeated and important message of the religious persecution of artists that continues to be the bane of our civilization. Right from the title card which writes the letters of the movie name as a finger moves on frosted glass, it is pretty clear that tremendous thought has gone into each scene. The music by Ghazal master, Ramesh Narayan superbly compliments the old Bombay setting. I liked the deliberate anachronism of new age ships appearing in the background that reinforces the 'fictional' aspect of some of the episodes. 

Yet the most dramatic part of the movie were real episodes of the king's life. Ravi Varma was persecuted for modeling the paintings of Hindu goddesses on women around him some of whom were prostitutes and widows. Clearly, the custodians of the Hindu faith with their saffron shawls and tridents don't think that their gods had anything to do with the terrible fate of these women or the social setup that sustains their misery. 

Couple of times the movie throws light on the rigid caste system in Kerala from which Ravi Varma exiled himself. First, when the goons of the ruling class drown the lovely servant maid who served as a model for his award winning painting. Secondly in the simple, short but powerful self defense of Ravi Varma towards the climax where he proclaims that his life has been meaningful because he delivered the gods and goddess to the homes of the people who were forbidden from entering the temples.

Any writer who has precast Nitya Menen in a role in his mind can save a lot of paper. Her eyes speak volumes. In a brief role as the servant maid in the first half of the movie, she sparkles. Lakshmi Sharma who plays the painter's wife is a potent mix of senusuality and emotion. But the big chunk of the breathtaking canvass of the movie shines with the presence of Karthika Nair. Truly dream debut into cinema for her! As Sugandhi, the painter's muse and Urvashi, the celestial nymph hooked on King Pururavass, her curves and arched eyebrows seduce the camera.If you are a serious lover of cinema, this is a DVD or Bluray worth owning.

There were only a couple of points in the 140 minutes when the dialogs sounded a little too forced and dramatic. Jagathy Srikumar has now become typecast as the scheming dark character in historical movies. 

But my biggest complaint is with the utterly disrespectful and undeserving audience in the movie theater. The situation with mindless chattering, perpetual texting and continuous cell phone conversation was so pathetic in the balcony that as soon as the interval break came, I rushed to sit downstairs in the 'Green Circle' which was empty. This enormously careless attitude such an insult to the creativity and hardwork put in by so many technicians. I understand that this sad culture of moviegoing springs from the brainless, run of the mill, crass fare that passes for cinema in India 90% of the time. Going to the theater has become identical to going to a theme park. It is to eat, talk, drink, have a good time with friends and family. Public place is a mere extension of their private space at home. Who the heck cares if something is running on a big screen in the background?!

The audience at the Bharatanatyam recital yesterday evening at Nishagandhi were a class apart. In fact, one of the performers, Lakshmi Gopalaswami, mentioned specifically that it was honor to perform in from of the 'august Thiruvananthapuram audience who have been exposed to performances of the highest caliber for ages'. Thankfully, she wasn't in the theater this morning listening to gossips exchanged in person and driving directions given over the phone while highest quality cinematic experience unfolded on the screen. 

Lakshmi Gopalaswami performed with actor-dancer Vineeth. I had never seen them in person before. Lakshmi is much more petite than I had imagined and contrasted with Vineeth, who never really grew up from his 'Nakhashathangal' debut in my mind. Without the aid of close-up camera, it was easier to read and appreciate Vineeth's expressions than Lakshmi's. When she struck the pose of Chamundi slaughtering demon with her trident, for a second, I thought that she was using a bamboo to row in the lagoon. She is exceptionally fair skinned (which in India automatically qualifies as 'good looks') so the lighting dept did a commendable job making sure that she wasn't a complete washout. Lighting was splendid for the Mohiniyattam recital too where with the white and shiny golden attire, the glare possibility is much more. It was easy to remember that traditional dance performances were meant to be in the light of oil lamps and not flood lights. It was also worth remembering that not more than a few decades ago, watching such performances was a previlege reserved for a small minority of the society. Democracy is a good thing, in some ways!

Since the items performed relied on Telugu, Tamil and Sanskrit songs, I couldn't relate to them as much as I did with Guru Kshemaavathi's Mohiniyattam performance. Nevertheless, Vineeth's reenactment (dancement?!) of the 'Kannappan' episode from Shiva purana was easily recognizable and remarkable. I think in Bharatanatyam a freshly slaughtered wild boar gets cut up a little too easily on its way to becoming a kebab! Lakshmi Gopalaswami also had the prudence and experience to wear an absorbent jacket under her blouse preventing the hugely distracting sweaty underarms phenomenon that is a common side effect of draining dances. Vineeth did not have any such precaution so by the end of the show what had started as an A&M Maroon top on him went the Mussolini way! But the energy on the stage was palpable evidence of these two performers being decades younger than Guru Kshemaavathi. Vineeth continues his advanced Bharatanatyam training with Padma Subramaniam.

Before the recital began it was announced that videography is not allowed after the first 10 minutes. As soon as Lakshmi entered the stage, hordes of young men pounced and crouched in front of the stage waving at her their modern day penis substitute and girlfriend silencer, the hard, black, long lens fitted cameras which are much more affordable than red sports cars! A tourist old man went further ahead, carried a chair and seated himself in the orchestra well and continued videography till the organizers and a token policeman interfered. 

Since it is the Republic Day of India, before the movie, attended the parade by the guards at Reserve Bank of India. Amma was also receiving an award for exemplary service because of some outreach program she had done. Breakfast at the bank, sweet! While walking back to the car, met Aneesha sister's dad and thanked him for his daughter kindness to me at the Lord's hospital. I'll be back at the bank on Monday to talk about financial recession. It already feels like preaching to a possibly judgmental choir or a domestic version of dissertation defense!The day ended with watching a glorious Kathakali performance. I will let it sink in and write about it tomorrow.