There’s a strange syndrome where directors seem to lose touch with their audience and it’s happened to the best of them, Sridher, K. Balachander and Bharathi Rajaa to name a few. When I watched ‘Kadal’ I wondered if the same had happened to Mani Ratnam. It looked like a bad version of ‘Alaigal Oyivadhillai’! His possessive fans blamed it on his lacklustre foray into Hindi cinema. They didn’t lose hope though.
There was an air of nervous expectancy before the first show of ‘Oh Kadhal Kanmani’ at a multiplex. I realised that the quality of the audience reflects the sensibility of the filmmaker. It was the kind of crowd that spoke in hushed tones. Some whistled only when the director’s name was flashed. Yes, ‘unqualified’ reviews were already bombarding the social networking sites. After the credits rolled you’re introduced to an unfettered, utterly charming couple who effortlessly elicit a sheepish grin that isn’t wiped off till someone outside stares curiously.
A small aside. When the maverick ‘flute’ Mali was cooped up in a room he had asked me for a ‘transistor’ to listen to cricket commentary and a book by Bertrand Russell who he liked to quote. When I handed over ‘Marriage and Morals’, about the dogma and dilemmas of domesticity he smiled wryly. “It’s ironical that you should give me this. I acceded to Ellen’s insistence on matrimony but with the condition that I wouldn’t touch her, physically,” he said.
I was strangely reminded of this watching Adi and Tara who want a-no-strings attached relationship. They don’t want the woes after taking the vows like a wailing child. It’s a ‘consummate without commitment’ generation. They want to enjoy every moment of togetherness before their ambitions throws them to different corners of the globe. We’re introduced to a ‘till death do us part’ aging couple where the wife’s battling Alzheimer’s. Mani treats this track with a tenderness that brings a lump to your throat even while you’re smiling. The screenplay is unwavering with no unnecessary frills. There are no soppy sentiments. The dialogues just flow. You can see that a lot of effort has gone into making it seem like casual conversations. Mani has previously set his films in Bombay but in Mumbai now it’s not about the underworld or communal strife. It’s about two free spirits aching to be together without worrying about tomorrow. Their relationship reminds you more of ‘Maro Charithra’ without the overbearing parents rather than ‘Alai Payudhey’. Difficult scenes are pulled off with effortless ease. Take the scene where Adi requests his landlord to allow Tara to live with him. The denial is vehement till Tara starts singing for his ailing wife, a renowned singer, reminiscent of ‘Unnal Mudiyum Thambi’ where music is the only unifying factor in a family fractured by diverse ideologies. It ultimately takes a brief separation to make them realise that they can’t live apart. Mani doesn’t take sides. He doesn’t preach. It’s his take on a modern relationship told in the most pleasant manner possible. Is the climax a commercial copout? You decide.
You can prick holes in the plot but I always remember what Mani told me when I asked him how the protagonist in ‘Nayakan’ who grows up in Bombay cannot comprehend or speak Hindi. “It was a conscious decision. Tamil audiences had to understand and the emotional content is more important than the logic,” he said. The emotions in ‘OKK’ move you and make you smile without sounding corny or looking contrived. The only discordant note is a character who’s referred to and calls everyone ‘buddy’. The casting is perfect. Dulquer and Nitya don’t appear to be acting. It’s as if Mani has captured their life with a hidden camera. It must be therapeutic for Prakash Raj to act in a Mani film after raving and ranting regularly. Leela Samson is a casting coup. The attention to details is immaculate. Prakash Raj grinds spices physically and pours it into ‘rasam’ simmering in a traditional Tamilian vessel called ‘eeya (tin) chombu’. You can almost smell the aroma. Nobody can shoot and cut a song like Mani, not since Vijay Anand. Watch ‘Parandhu Sellava’ shot in a room.
‘OKK’ is a master class in cinematography. P.C. Sreeram is in fine form, be it lovingly caressing an ancient monument with his camera, sweeping crowded streets in torrential rain or capturing flawless close-ups of the lead pair. Watch him light each character as he shoots a conversation around a dining table. Mani inspires the best in Rahman. Watch ‘OKK’ because it’s a celebration of cinema and love. ‘Double Ok Kan MANI’. Welcome back.
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