Banner: Murali Cine Arts
Director: N K Viswanathan
Actors: Namitha, Raja, Nila, Riyaz Khan, Kota Sreenivasa Rao, Yuvarani et al
Music: Ilayaraja (!)
For the Rediff review, go here.
Warning: In my opinion, no review of a movie is complete without some sort of discussion of the whole plot so if you don’t want your suspense wrecked, go no further. You can always read the Rediff version if you don’t want the story given away.
No matter how bizarrely taken, I’ve always been a sucker for ghost/fantasy stories. Fantasy stories based on myths, legends and the puranas have been the mainstay of our cinema for decades; they have an appeal that’s hard to beat.
Even when it first appeared in its candy-coloured version, the original Jaganmohini was a riot of short skirts, crazy dances and bizarre, ghost-filled situations that were more likely to leave you laughing. Who wouldn’t want a dose of sack-cloth covered ghosts who made horrible faces and drove everyone insane? And the makers of the original Telugu version made no bones about what they were trying to do: just good wholesome fun, with a buxom Jayamalini performing nothing short of a striptease, and justifying the skin show with a devout pathini doing her prayers and getting her husband back. How can you not identify with that?
The modern, Tamil version, Murali Cine Arts’ re-make, Jaganmohini in its re-vitalized, graphic-filled form, directed by N K Viswanathan, is no less in its offering, even though there are a few departures from the original.
Pugazhmani’s dialogues are, surprisingly, a whiff of fresh air in what you otherwise expect to be a stale story – you really don’t expect the tongue-in-cheek one-liners he sometimes throws out. But that’s the star performer – its you-know-who, and in exemplary fashion, of course.
Events kick off with a wedding between Prince Jagadhalapradhaban (Raja) – how many more times will they use that name? – and his cousin, Azhagu Nachiyar (Nila), of Sangu Theevu – when catastrophe strikes in the form of a huge, watery monstrosity taking a womanly shape to destroy it. The sight of a watery Namitha clad in what seems to be a bikini top and barely-there strip of cloth is enough to give you the heebie-jeebies. It’s swiftly pocketed into a kamandalam by the wily Sidhar (Kotta Sreenivasa Rao).
The royal families are duly grateful, and ask his help in getting the wedding through. Needless to say, the bearded man has his own agenda in helping the prince, and in true filmy fashion, talks you through a flashback that involves more princes and fairy-tales: Indrajith (Riyaz Khan), Azaghu’s brother and an inveterate killer, not to mention a thief as well and a completely insane Jaganmohana (Vadivelu), with his cohorts, playing a nadaswaram and cracking lewd jokes. [Seriously - Kudamurutti Kokila? That's too much silliness to swallow.]
More to the point, you have Jaganmohini (Namitha), a young pearl-diver in the small sea-side town of Muthukkaadu, wearing skimpy two-pieces as is her wont, and who dives down into the deep blue sea in colourful costume after costume. How she manages not to jump right out of them is a mystery. She shares a dance with her mother Jyothi Lakshmi [yet another buxom item dancer of earlier decades], who predicts that her daughter will marry a Prince. Naturally.
Back to our intrepid Jagan (so many people are named Jagan, in this movie) again – he almost drowns in his efforts to defeat Prince Indrajith, falls into the sea and washes up, Padagotti fashion, on the shore. Jaganmohini promptly falls in love with him, without knowing who he is [although she's honest enough to mention that she'd like to marry a Prince.].
In typical Namitha tradition, there are plenty of double entendres, duets to Ilayaraja’s lackluster music (he seems to have realized the futility of a project like this), bend-and-snap routines that display her talents to great advantage, until disaster strikes: the Prince gets back home and informs his parents that he’s set his heart on a pearl-diver.
The only good part about the entire screenplay is that Jagan’s father, who smilingly agrees to his son’s errant belief-systems, and promptly decides to get Jaganmohini murdered within a week, aided by his vassal. Now that part was completely and totally rational – its what a king would do, under the circumstance. It also lets you raise the angst factor: lost love returns as a ghost, willing to rave, rant and generally throw trees at anyone who happens to cross her path.
The pity of a film like Jaganmohini hits you when you realize that these are the kind of movies that are invariably taken in Hollywood, jazzed up with mind-blowing special effects, infused with snazzy characters and sharp dialogues – and which then go on to gross billions. This one has potential: star-crossed lovers, angry ghosts, crazy villains, sword-fights, fist-fights and goddesses that smite you down – and yet, the story sinks like a stone, the special effects wouldn’t fool a two year old and you rely on a Namitha, spilling out of her costume, to save the day.
Not that she doesn’t try, of course. This film is all about her; the camera traces every movement lovingly, but she really doesn’t have much to do except change costumes every ten minutes and have the crowd hooting. Nila tries very hard to appear involved but when she’s forced to sing devout songs dressed in a skimpy saree, you can see her heart’s not in it. Riyaz Khan looks more like a prince than a wimpy-looking Raja – pity he has so little screen-time. Narasimha Raju, the hero of the original Jaganmohini, makes an appearance here as Prince Jagan’s father.
Kotta Sreenivasa Rao is more a comedian than Vadivelu – he pulls out every syllable of every word for so long that the theatre erupts in laughter.
But the real comedy lies with the special effects – huge spiders, snakes, goddesses who frown and seas that part in such an amateurish fashion that even the kids fidget. The costumers have had a field day as well, using the same jewellery for all the actresses (a red necklace, in particular that keeps shifting from Nila to Yuvarani to Nila), and dazzling fake beads and bracelets that look like props from a stage-set. Namitha, thankfully, has saved them all a good deal of trouble by wearing next-to-nothing, of course.
The locations are the only saving graces in the movie and for that, at least, you’re thankful.
Despite its silly storyline and terrible costumes, Jaganmohini leaves you with a feeling of loss: for the time when such larger-than-life characters, magic and fantasy ruled the screens, taking you to beautiful worlds – and for the time when such movies might return.
Not that that’s going to happen any time soon, if makers are willing to throw away money on stars, which could have been better spent on convincing screenplays.
