What happens when a couple of brilliant actors battle it out with their respective, legendary vocalists over an absolute peach of a lyrical sequence?
Poonnkuyil Paadinaal kind of magic unfurls.
Two very different persons, struggling to shroud their apparent attraction to each other, loosen up over an eventful night, moving from moments of awkward closeness to those of delightful intimacy.
The beauty of it all? They bond over music.
He invites her over for a stint at the key-board. The lady starts off with a simple jingle. He takes it further with a smug improvisation. A palpable gawkiness hangs in the air.
She proceeds to hint at a shimmering tune. He sneaks in with a couple of complementary keys. They are almost rubbing shoulders now. She responds with a brilliant refrain. He bends over to nurture the spell.
You get the drift. It’s almost like a twin ballad now; her chords beautifully segueing into his, setting up the stage for something ethereal. The whole thing rounds off into a bewitching melody. They can’t stop smiling. Neither can you.
You have to hand it over to Mahesh Mahadevan here. What an unprecedented grip over the fabric of the synergy! Very rarely does a prelude to a song turn out so endearingly spontaneous that it pulls the actors into the moment, and lets them steer the happenings by simply being themselves on-screen.
And Kamal and Gautami effortlessly make the most of the setting. It’s one thing to share a great relationship with a co-star. But bringing alive the tricky warmth of an evolving attraction, complete to the minutest detail, is beyond histrionics. The ensuing camaraderie, for one thing, entails much more than mere competency of the craft. Combined with the music, the delightful visual pointers to the ticking chemistry-bomb has to be seen to be believed! The timer has been set with aplomb.
What makes music ‘music’ and not just a jumble of sounds or noises? The duo eases into a lovely jam over the apparently intangible conflict.
And Chitra and SPB smoothly take over the reins here.
From the organised rhythm of birdsong to an infant’s cry, the extempore musings are plain irresistible. Why does this formless ‘thing’ – at its core, a mere figment of the senses – hold such unthinkable intrinsic value in controlling the human mind?
The actors, and the singers, are competing with each other now. Is music in the notes, or the lingering silence in between? If ‘sound’ is required for music to exist, what form did it take in Beethoven’s mind? The vibes are alarmingly infectious.
பூங்குயில் பாடினால் நல்ல சங்கீதம்
குழந்தையின் அழுகையும் நல்ல சங்கீதம்
ஓசை எல்லாம் தீர்ந்து போனால் ஏது சங்கீதம்?
சத்தங்கள் இல்லாத மௌனங்கள் சங்கீதம்!
Look closely and you can catch Gauthami perfectly timing the pepper-spray retrieval from her pouch with “சண்டையும் சங்கீதம்”, sporting a superbly feigned nonchalance.
You are already sold. But, the show has just started.
Mahesh stages a strategic power shut-down to effect one of the most fascinating musical interludes in our cinemas, ever.
Kamal’s ripostes continue to draw out the character from his somber mask every passing second. There is a deceptive rustle, followed by a stretch of dramatic silence. Haasan now strolls into the frame, holding a lighted candle and a guitar. The visual instantly imbues the moment with an abstract sort of charm. Dramatic shoe-stomps resonate with anticipant thrills. As he walks towards the lady’s silhouette, the lingering darkness dissolves into a muted glimmer on Gauthami’s face. Grasping the flambeau, she breaks into a radiant beam
A breath-taking pause. And the heavenly guitar makes a sensational debut. Kamal’s stringing beautifully segues into SPB’s mesmerising whistle, as the couple walks to the lawns. Everything about the setting is so freaking trippy that you could be excused for letting the muzzled ‘high’ in Gauthami’s eyes slide.
Once in the backyard, Chitra breaks into this ravishing hum, which along with the accompanying lead-guitar, is your straight-ticket to ecstasy-land. Dare you resist the offer!
And before you could make complete sense of the ongoing hypnosis, a lyrical jugalpandi starts writing itself in the second charanam.
If music is about a structured repetition of sounds, isn’t it all-encompassing – always present with us – as life goes on in the background? Is ‘intention’ a criterion for distinguishing music from noise? But again, isn’t it all about perspective?
The singers are almost on autopilot now. Everything flows.
ஸ்ருதியில் சேரும் ராகம் என்றும் கற்கண்டு…
பூவில் பாடும் வண்டு என்ன ஸ்ருதி கொண்டு!
Between accepted forms of organised intonations and free-spirited interpretations like that pollination and rains, the poetic swing ride is a delight to the senses.
நேசமாக நீங்கள் கேட்பதென்ன பாட்டு?
மூங்கில் மீது காற்று மோதிய பழ பாட்டு.
The electricity is back. They both amble inside. The lady’s curiosity about this man is at its peak. A bookshelf that spills over to the bed and the carpet. Randomly scattered underwear on the couch. What an compelling personality this guy is turning out to be!
As she instinctively touches his feet after accidentally brushing her footwear on him, she has absolutely no clue what she has gotten herself into. He chides back casually. The interplay of ideologies quickly escalates to a clash on the concept of the ‘divine’. The lady revels at the way a certain kind of ethereal music establishes the omnipresence of the Almighty. Gauthami is in her element here. The pride and assertion of a strong theist shimmers in her eyes.
எங்கும் கடவுள் தேடும் தேவ சங்கீதம்…
SPB, on his part, edges up the drama with a retort that if music could be seen as nirvana, why can’t it be a quest for the elusive humanity and rationalism?
One look at Kamal holding a book on Periyar in one hand, while he goes “எதிலும் மனிதன் தேடும் எங்கள் சங்கீதம்!” and you could instantly feel the shivers.
She knows she can speak her mind. “Doesn’t the music of life flow from the earth to the heavens and back,” she wonders. The intimacy – the growing conviction that you would be understood no matter what – shows. He retaliates pronto by calling music as the art-form of the ‘equals’, and not only the select privileged.
தேவலொகம் கேட்கும் ஜீவ சங்கீதம்…
ஏழை குடிசை கேட்கும் எங்கள் சங்கீதம்!
The lady is not going down without a resilient brush. Picking up from where she left, she perseveres. At the end of the day, aren’t ‘rewards’ the purpose of all art?
With a vehement nod, Kamal strikes back. Isn’t the reflexive spurt of moisture in the beholder’s eyes the true labour of love? That’s the thing. It doesn’t come that easy. It needs to be earned. Every single speckle of it. And when it is, nothing in the world would come close to what the artiste feels, that moment.
After all, it’s not without reason, this piece exists, right?
காசு மாலை தானே கலையின் சன்மானம்…
கண்ணின் துளிகள் தானே கலைகளின் வெகுமானம்!
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Here’s the track:
maniprabhuwrites 