Before I start
attempting this, there are certain things the reader must know, the first of
which is that this is not a review. Well, at least it doesn’t conform to the
commonly accepted definition of one. It isn’t meant to give you my opinion on
the different things I observed in the movie*, while providing you with some
running commentary/side note all along. This is a token of thanks, the purpose
of which is not to provide you with a reason to watch the short, but to provide
you with one to appreciate it. So if you haven’t watched it yet, do it (Or be
prepared for me to spoil it all for you). And then maybe read this (Or not.
Your choice.).
Two, I am not a
person who possesses any knowledge about film making, the aspects of it, or
anything related to it at all. I am a mere layman, writing like I usually do,
not as a form of art, but more as a response to some stimulus that initiates
some form of a thought process in me. If you tell me about the lighting or the
various camera angles, I would either listen to learn, or stare long enough for
you to stop. But having said that, I love references. I love the fact that an
image or a scene can be interpreted my way. I like reading between blank
spaces. And I did a bit of that here as well. So as I said, this would merely
be a description of certain things/scenes/sequences and my interpretation of
them (irrespective of how many of those were intended). Not so much a review
but the personal ramblings of a person (who requires an audience) temporarily
consumed by a form of media (that requires an audience).
About the movie
now, I told myself not to have any expectations from it. And yet, it’s only
human that you predict or expect something out of every opportunity presented
to you. Here, though, you see them thwarted. Every time. For instance we get a
short glimpse of a woman about 90 seconds into the movie, who we later discover
is a coveted possession, a prized partner. A character of so much importance
must surely reappear on the screen? She must have a “bigger role”? After all
the two men carrying the movie have been known to want to carry her. But no.
“Good morning.” And she’s gone. There are too many instances of this
expectation-thwarting, enough to make me feel borderline dumb for falling for
it every time, at the same time allowing me to appreciate the thought that went
into it.
The movie opens
with a shot of someone waking up in some sort of a building that’s under
construction. Not too away from the city, not in the city itself. A man who
likes the city, but is used to the lack of it, maybe? He looks out into the sky
as the sun stares into his face. And that’s the exact point in time when I was
reminded of Bane, from The Dark Knight Rises. (“…the dark. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn’t
see the light until I was already a man; by then, it was nothing to me but
blinding!”) And to some extent I was proved right, I suppose, what with Kaas
being in prison for God knows how long.
The next thing that caught my eye was that the first
time the two men interact, we see an apple being cut in half. At first I liked
how it looked perfect and shiny on the outside, but was rotten on the inside -
the right amount of hint about someone important. Upon viewing twice, I
discovered something more important. The other half of the apple looked just
about fine, but was thrown away nonetheless. Maybe, translating a certain
saying, a grain of rice reflects the contents of the entire pot? I’m not sure.
Maybe I’m thinking too much? The third time around, I got to the rather
sinister point. Whatever it is, it takes a knife to bring it out. This is what
set the movie up for me. This moment was the one that got me hooked on to it.
The next few moments play out on screen in a rather
fast paced manner – Siddharth, a normal man, chased by a stranger who knows him
all too well, trying to force him into remembering things he doesn’t want to.
Eventually Siddharth surrenders to reality and the fact that there’s no
escaping this situation or this man, none of which was his choice in the first
place. (This was another moment where I
was interested, because of the question “What happens when nothing’s in your
control? Where everything just happens no matter what? What would you do then?”)
For someone about to pull a gun, Kaas calmly sits down
on a bench, happily popping peanuts with Siddharth. So far the story has only
been set up. (Or maybe an extension of set up.) For me, there was no
development until now. That’s when I hear the words: “Siddharth, uppu kami illa?” (“Siddharth, this isn’t
as salty as it’s supposed to be?”) Seldom does someone address a question to
the viewer, poised as a casual remark on screen. I was absent mindedly nodding
by now, almost as if to make MY answer count.
This is the heart of the movie’s writing, the one that
takes the cake. Amidst the conversation, we are told that Kaas once beat up
Siddharth as a kid (because Sid cheated) but then also took him to the hospital
and got him patched, while Siddharth vehemently denies cheating. This is the
one dialogue that defines both characters for me. On one hand we have Kaas -
extremely instinctive, extremely temperamental, and the least bit bothered
about what anyone else might think or say about all of this. On the other hand,
we have Siddharth, someone who would deny an accusation repeatedly and
spiritedly, and maybe even give up and let go after a point of time, but would
never convince, reason or support himself. He is instinctive as well, but in a
more “harmless” sort of manner. All his instinct does is cloud his left brain.
The rest of the conversation is all about Kaas making
Siddharth uncomfortable at every available instance (by bringing up things like
his marriage), while evading the questions that Siddharth asks in order to make
himself comfortable. But amidst all of this, the idea of Kaas not giving a fuck
about anything outside of his mind is reinforced in another, rather innovative
manner, as he hums what is the most beautiful piece of music, the grandest
symphony in his mind, revealing that he was in Vellore, imprisoned. Not once
does he ask how well he sang, or how good it was. He knows it was the best
performance. That’s what matters to him.
More and more instances of each one’s psyche colliding
and conflicting with the other’s, unfold. Siddharth is concerned, as he asks
Kaas if he needs help finding a job, something that is an important aspect of
life according to Sid. Kaas, a few moments after making a mockery of that
request, shouts into Siddharth’s face, about how everything including the
chance to watch a thalaivar movie is
important to him. Talk about simple pleasures.
If I had to draw a line somewhere to signal the
beginning of the climax, this would be it. This is when it all comes together.
Not the part that is in focus, but the one that deserves the most importance.
Kaas’s instinct has been brewing for long. This is where the curtains are raised
and it comes forward. Long story short, Kaas was ratted on by someone. He
suspects and eventually shoots Siddharth. But the way this happens, is an example
of some professional sketching of characters. None of them violate their
boundaries. Sid continues to say that he didn’t inform the cops (Remember, deny
repeatedly but never convince or reason?), but says that even if someone did,
it wouldn’t be wrong if the intention was to reform Kaas (Remember, offering to
help if Kaas needed a job?). Kaas on the other hand seems to remember
everything that lead to this point, forgetting only one thing he had to – the
art of giving a fuck. He doesn’t care whether Sid admits it or not – he’s
already decided to kill him. At one point, the movie seems to try and create an
illusion, one where Kaas is convinced that Siddharth didn’t do it. But then again, it’s all to incite Siddharth, make
him uncomfortable, like it has always been.
I, personally, didn’t expect Kaas to murder. He could
be annoying, uneasy, and even someone who smuggles drugs. But can he murder someone he’s known for so long?
And yet he did, which wasn’t too much of a surprise but was still something I
couldn’t foresee.
Somewhere along
all of this, Kaas receives a couple of phone calls that he ignores. Because
right now, he’s decided to go for a kill. And he can’t be bothered by anything,
let alone a mere phone call. But after all of this, when the phone rings for a
third time, he answers it, only to find that (screen blacks out) the informer
was a certain Peter** all along. I was wrong about what’s the most important
part of the story (One more thing I was wrong about, perhaps). This is. A
conflict of traits must take over. Will Kaas try and rush Siddharth to the
hospital, as he did the last time he hurt him? Or will he shoot himself out of
guilt, knowing that there’s nothing he can do? Or option three, walk away from
all of this being as indifferent as he always has been? Or will he walk away,
the only thing in his mind being the next murder, that of Peter? Will he reform
himself? Will Vidya be safe? Does she matter to him? Did Siddharth really cheat
in that game of marbles? Ladies and gentlemen, Andha Naal Nyaabagam. A story
that makes me uncomfortable, while evading all the questions I ask in order to
make myself comfortable. A story of instinct. Instinct which happens to be the
antagonist of the antagonist, and also his biggest strength.
Key:
Movie*: Something that
Andha Naal Nyaabagam doesn’t conform to the commonly accepted definition of.
Peter**: Why did this
never strike Kaas? Because “uska English
thoda weak, remember ah?”
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