Chennai is a city that takes its films, and Carnatic music, very seriously. Which is why it is quite puzzling that the movie world hasn’t featured the kutcheri circuit, and its goings-on, to a considerable extent. Director Shankar touched upon it in Anniyan, when Vikram gets all angry with a sabha secretary for denying a talented vocalist her chance. That sequence just touched the surface. Sarvam Thaala Mayam is probably the first full-fledged feature film effort in recent times to provide a 360-degree view of the kutcheri scene. It does so through the eyes of Peter Johnson (GV Prakash) and Vembu Iyer (Nedumudi Venu).
Peter might be the son of reputed mridangam maker Johnson, but his interests lie in films. He hero-worships his ‘Thalapathy’ Vijay – so much that he skips his accountancy exam to indulge in the first-day-first-show celebrations of his matinee idol. He saunters around life aimlessly, till one day, he is sent to deliver a mridangam that his father made to Vembu Iyer, who is performing on stage. Watch out for Peter’s expressions in this scene, picturised well in a sabha environment. He’s in awe at the atmosphere, at the applause. And he wants to be in the middle of it all too.
This desire carries the film after that. What could have easily been up as just a blame game on elitist Carnatic musicians or a mirror to the kutcheri circuit ends up becoming Peter’s rise – and with that, chronicling every aspect of not just the Carnatic scene, but current-day popular singing talent shows as well.
- Genre: Drama
- Cast: GV Prakash, Nedumudi Venu, Kumaravel, Aparna
- Storyline: The son of a mridangam maker hopes to become a performer on stage
The casting is terrific. Nedumudi Venu is brilliant as Vembu Iyer, the musician who thinks of himself as the “number 1 mridangam artiste.” His relationship with his sishya Peter (GV Prakash, who is maturing as an actor with each big screen outing) is one of the highlights of the film. There’s a particular sequence when Peter is humiliated by Vembu’s assistant Mani (Vineeth), but he decides to stick to his ground, literally. This leads to the lyrically-impressive ‘Varalaama’, a montage number that’s picturised with Johnson following Vembu wherever he goes. Even inside a temple that is conducting a sacred thread-changing ceremony.
STM triumphs by bringing out certain truths about caste and class conflict in the kutcheri circuit. Rajiv’s research on the Carnatic music circuit is thorough; it sets the right tone for the musical. He also sketches the father-son relationship arc well – something crucial for the film. The father, Johnson (Kumaravel), has been making mridangams for many years now, and is quite content leading his small life, and his interactive sequences with his son, who is certainly more of a dreamer, are well etched. What isn’t carved out well is the love angle – Sara (Aparna Balamurali) is an important character but her romance with Peter doesn’t feel real for most of the time. “I think of you every day,” Peter tells her. The dialogue is there, but the emotion is missing.
Where it comes back is in the portions Peter is obsessed about mastering the mridangam. His decision to take off to explore India to “find his music” didn’t exactly strike the right note, but the way those sequences tie up in the climax – one that gives you the same high Karate Kid gives – is admirable. It also helps that there’s some neat cinematography by Ravi Yadav (watch out for a shot of Peter playing the mridangam, with a train and setting sun in the background) and some rousing music by AR Rahman (though it is, admittedly, a notch below the wonderful tunes in Kandukodain Kandukodain or Minsara Kanavu ). STM is Rajiv’s best directorial yet, proving that beauty lies not just in the colourful clothes or the picturesque frames, but also in a storyline filled with aspiration and hope.
