The maniacal, impudent fugleman was at listless ease with himself. Raking in the elysian of a scrumptious, misty milieu and the tantalizing prospect of having his subject at his behest on an unnerving cliff-top, he cast his eerie gaze upon his prisoner. Wails of resentment and despair were instantly stifled by the loading of his automatic. Still reticent vocally, he pointed it straight at her. “I’d rather die on my own terms.” Impulse got to her. She’d taken the plunge ... Gravity did the rest.
Watching Raavan unfold before my eyes last evening I felt I was watching an enormously dexterous craftsman at work. A man who’d chosen a particular path, well aware of its glaring discrepancies, yet going ahead with it to treat us to something that not only stands out as unique, but also establishes a very fine trait of a man who’s grounded his identity on sheer creativity and the audacity of projecting his ideas boldly on screen, regardless of mainstream demands. Over and above all that has been said and written about Raavan all week, one must bear in mind that Mani Ratnam is a man who’s well aware of what he’s doing. This is how he intended this film to be, all subjective opinion apart. Whether or not we choose to look upon it as a retarded piece of gibberish or a genuine exhibit of out-of-the-box creativity is an entirely different issue altogether. Various films choose to try entertaining in different ways. Raavan chooses its, and does complete justice to its motive.
Set in rural Central India, the tale mirrors the kidnap saga of the wife (Ragini, played by Aishwarya Rai) of a Superintendent of Police (Dev, played by Vikram), by a brash tribal outlaw (Beera, Abhishek Bachchan). The film follows, in an unabashedly quixotic narrative, the hunt for Beera and the subsequent events that ensue (not handing it out on a platter). Inspired eponymously from the tyrannical conman of the Ramayan, the parallels between the screenplay and the epic are aplenty. True to the epic, Beera abducts Ragini in an attempt to seek vengeance for an act of unnecessary violence by Dev’s men on the occasion of his sister’s wedding (Yes, there is a reference to the nose too). The characterization of the leads though, is haplessly amateurish and that does very little to help connect with them emotionally. You don’t quite know what Beera’s doing slashing people’s arms at once and hopping around with indigenous kids minutes later. And all that you see of Dev is a well concealed sense of restlessness and a shoddy pair of Rayban shades. But Mani chooses to keep things that way. He simply doesn’t care. And all the film ends up being in the end is a fairytale-ish narrative; one that purely sprouts from a heart oozing desire than a mind craving for brilliance. This ain’t a film for you diligent custodians who’d scoff at a poorly scripted subplot. Yes, the talk is true. The film does deviate from the original tale, and with a purpose. Mani chooses to explore unchartered territory here, shedding light onto a particular aspect of the epic that stands as a talking point among staunch enthusiasts even to this date.
Frankly, to hate this film is very easy. You could very easily whine the lack of a solid script, a terribly clichéd screenplay, poor acting, mediocre dialogue, and accuse this of being a piece for the gallery. But here’s where the film soars: a deeply interesting style of narrative, an engaging premise, a distinctly hypnotic feel to every shot, mind-numbing art direction and cinematography, and an inspiring soundtrack from Rahman though a tad low-key for his standards. Santosh Sivan creates spellbinding magic with the cameras; every frame dripping aesthetic opulence. Sivan ensures you simply do not take your eyes off screen even when the narrative gets a bit languid. One can pick out a galore of glaring, unpardonable gaffes in the screenplay, which sometimes stupefies with its obsession to cliché or its abstinence from imparting a broader perspective of things. Sure Mani Ratnam had a purpose. He had meant it to be a sheer orgy of creative storytelling and breathtaking screenshots. And it does justice to whatever it set out to do.
Of the cast, Govinda does well, reasonably well, as Sanjeevani Kumar, aka Hanuman. Still very easily amongst the most natural, free and chirpy comedians in the industry. Aishwarya Rai has little substantial acting to do in her role of the normally-shrieking, occasionally-melancholic hostage. Vikram shines as Dev, the not-quite-Ram-equivalent who is fully willing to shun all sanity of conduct to garner his wife’s whereabouts. Despite the limitations in the script that chain his character, Vikram effortlessly puts in a commendable performance, one that he largely constructs with his sheer screen presence. The film’s biggest letdown in the cast, however, is our protagonist who eventually ends up a very badly garbled caricature. Abhishek Bachchan tries hard to be the psychopath pooh bah but falls miles short of creating a decent enough impression. Frankly, he’s much better off doing roles that do not require much acting.
Despite all its brazen conundrums, Raavan is a film I respect immensely. For it has an engaging idea to put forth, and does so in no-holds-barred fashion. This is why Mani Ratnam is in the A+ grade of directors this industry has. Everytime he takes to the reels, he gives us something new, innovative at the cinemas. Something that shall stay in our mind for long, by virtue of its willingness to stand out.
I don’t know about you, or those folks who snub films for a living. This one’s staying with me for long.
Rating: **** (Delectable!)
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