When it comes to writing, few people seem to have complete mastery over every aspect like the Coen brothers do. Their characters leap off the page, dialogue sings, and their plots fit the genre and audience expectations, but still manage to surprise and entertain us.
To me, they’re two of the best living filmmakers, and no matter what they create, I always try to be first in line to watch.
The Coens’ films are incredible showcases, but there’s also lots to learn about process, technique, and mastery from them.
An actor uses everything at his disposal to breathe life in the character. Voice modulation, imbibing the physicality of character, his emotional involvement…all of these put together becomes the enactment of the character. Very few actors manage all of these, the reasons being either their lack of talent/preparation or weak material they are supposed to work with. In such rare instances, when terrific talent and great material come together, the results are outstanding. Mohanlal in ‘Vanaprastham’ is one such celestial occurrence, a la marriage made in heaven.
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Mohanlal brings all the elements of acting to the fore as an
emotionally turbulent Kathakali dancer. In the process we are treated to a superlative
performance. It takes a bit of time to get involved in the story, and once we
do, we cannot but empathise with the character’s ebbs and flows. Mohanlal as
the artiste, who initially is in full control with his performance on stage,
but struggling with his personal life, soon finds him going downhill in both.
The fountain of creativity that flowed out of his sorrowful childhood and his
art serving as a means to escape from the clutches of poverty, soon takes its
own path and drowns Kunjikuttan (Mohanlal). And, his already difficult personal
life becomes unbearable after a brief romantic interlude.
It is a very difficult character to play as the reveal of
character attributes is non-linear. We are introduced to him as a respected
artiste with a drinking problem and having issues with his family, and slowly
we are exposed to his inner turmoil. His deep need for an emotional anchor and
craving for an identity as a son and a father, juxtaposes with a profession
that demands the very dissolution of it through the many disguises. Who am I?
This question is best portrayed in a brilliant outburst scene when Kunjikuttan’s
love interest refuses to see him.
Never once the character is in full contentment with his
personal life and his brief joys are as transient as his performance on stage,
which everyone forgets once the show is over. While the performance on stage
appears real, one cannot make use of it in day to day life. Same ways, Kunjikuttan
being excellent as playing Arjuna, neither provides him with a steady mentor like
Krishna, or family love like Subhadra. For a small period, he finds Subhadra
(Suhasini)in real life, but that little respite turns so bitter that pushes him
into an abyss.
There are many scenes where one could simply watch Mohanlal
with awe, with the serious ones being easily noticed by all. The scene where he
preaches art is for art’s sake and how he lets art overpowers him. But even the
simple ones stand out, like the scene he meets Suhasini in her house, while
casually going through her written play, looks at her furtively. In that one
expression, he captures it all…his dreams about the future, his lack of surety
about them turning real and a glimmer of happiness in his eyes.
The final scene is one of the best..as if saying that though
one artist succumbed to the ways of the world, art will and must go on. So the death of Kunjikuttan is shown from the
point of view of Subhadra. It is as if Kunjikuttan is still around in some
form, and so does the artform of Kathakali .