Readers Write In #741: Some thoughts about Meiyazhagan

By Sudharsanan Sampath

Meiyazhagan is a bit complicated for me to think about. First of all, yes, I liked it. Even the parts I didn’t connect with, I liked the audacity and the effortless simplicity of the film. Let’s get that out of the way.

And it is equally true that I couldn’t connect with the later part of the film. I was actually happy to see the Jallikattu sequence. We do understand what kind of a man Karthi is, starting from the t-shirt he was wearing to what he says he was doing before the wedding. It was all there for us to see.

Then the bicycle sequence, again, which I absolutely loved. My issues began after the conversation moved to the dam, more specifically when they start the fire and Karthi starts talking about our glorious past, the Eelam issue, the Sterlite issue, etc., while Arvind Swami just takes it all in. I theoretically got what he was talking about, and how this informed us about Karthi’s character. How he not only cares about the immediate family, his fellow townsmen, animals, and even faraway humans, and humans from the past.

That’s why he is Mei Azhagan. What does it translate to? True Beautiful Man. It makes us question: What is it that is truly beautiful? But as much as I got all of this logically, I couldn’t connect with it emotionally.

It is not because I don’t care about the issues that he spoke about. We are actually bombarded with issue-based films. We just had Vaazhai. Even our so-called mindless entertainers like Kaithi talk about heavy issues like farmer suicides. So, we are not exactly strangers to films speaking about issues and showing us the brutal truth. It is ‘how’ you do it.  

Because the first part of the film exquisitely and painstakingly builds a certain kind of world. From the very first scene, we get to see what kind of a man Arvind Swamy is, what he lost in life, how he is with animals, elephants, and parrots alike. We are hinted at his trauma. The way he recognizes his relative at the wedding, and this child in him jumps out and says, “Hey Viji.” It is from his heart.

We are introduced to Rajkiran, the mischievous and kind cook Ilavarasu, his emotional cousin sister and her soon-to-be husband who is sick of hearing about Arvind Swamy, and of course, this playful, childlike nameless man Karthi.

So you had a beautiful world already, and you invited us into this world. We cared about this world. We wanted to see more of it, or at least I wanted to. How does Arvind Swamy interact with this world? How does this world seep into his soul? What kind of a change does it bring about?

So it was jarring when the film took a turn and became this Anbe Sivam-like character-conversational piece. It would have been less jarring if the conversation was about what the film established in the first part. But when it began talking about the wars of the past, and Eelam and Sterlite issues, I began to wonder when we would go back to the family dynamic. In other words, when would we go back from political to personal.

Later after the film, I found myself defending the film and its choices to my parents, who thought that there was definitely some kind of agenda as that particular conversation seemed tacked on. I loudly proclaimed that’s how drunk conversations are, and you cannot compare the flow these conversations have to the sober ones.

And they asked, “How do you know?” That’s a different story.

I also had issues with the ending of the film, when Arvind was struggling to remember Karthi’s name and Karthi just wouldn’t give it up. I understand in theory why it had to be that way. Why does Karthi mention all of their ancestor’s names? What significance, relatives, and family play in our lives. I theoretically got all of that. But it didn’t connect with me emotionally and felt the conversation dragged on and on. Again, I got why exactly the film had to end with his name (the movie’s name) said out loud. Just theoretically.

Another thing that yanked me out of this world is Karthi’s willingness to lend 25 lakhs to Arvind Swamy. And his wife signaling to Karthi that she can part ways with all her jewellery. At that point, it did seem like Karthi and his wife Sri Vidya exist in a different plane of reality. Call me a cynic, but if someone willingly offered me 25 lakhs out of the blue, I would be a bit suspicious. Meiyazhagan’s world slipped in and out of this ether-like plane of existence to our cold reality.

The reason I wrote this is because I wanted to respond to some of Prem Kumar’s comments from his interview. It’s not that we are uncomfortable watching a film that discusses these issues. We are just uncomfortable watching a film that has too many narrative avenues and throwaway threads. And all the Malayalam films, and all the films we celebrate in general, got that right, that singular focus.

That being said, I am pretty sure Meiyazhagan would be an even better watch second time around, since we are prepared for this tonal change. And I can’t wait to savor it again when it drops in the OTT space. This film did so many things right. It is a beautiful film, and I cannot wait to watch this filmmaker’s next.