There might be the odd spoiler, so beware. But as with most of my reviews these days, read it after you’ve watched the film, please?
Those of you who have been following my reviews, sporadic as they are, would have noticed that I seldom write about the whole movie anymore. I tend to focus on that which grabbed my attention. Two viewings and a lot of thinking about Super Deluxe later, I still don’t know what to talk about.
I could talk about the performances. The powerful ones, the delightful ones, the surprising ones, the one that made my skin crawl, even the one that lasted maybe a minute and involved pretty much just one word: Go.
I could talk about the sound: Yuvan’s minimalism, his use of just ambient noise to underline a mood in incredible ways. The layering of voices and overlapping conversations (some of them from TV and radio) — like Robert Altman on steroids. The use of music in surprising ways: Maasi maasam aalaana ponnu plays over a visual of a ponnaana aalu. A localized rendition of the Star Wars theme over, well, a Death Stair?
I could talk about what each subplot reminded me of. Like Eugene Ionesco’s Amédée, or How to Get Rid of It, a play about a married couple dealing with a corpse. Or Guy Ritchie. Terry Pratchett. Tarantino. Baasha. Arjun Reddy. The recent dist-up around Radharavi’s ill-advised comments about Nayanthara. Trust me, if you ran a drinking game around finding them, you’d have cirrhosis by the time you get to the interval point.
I could talk about guilt and acceptance, and how each subplot explores these themes in its own way.
I could talk about any of these things and it would make for a lengthy blog post all by itself. Rarely has a single film given us so much to take in. I was speaking to Baradwaj Rangan recently about how keeping my eyes wide open during a film has made the viewing experience so much more enjoyable, but nothing prepared me for the kind of sensory overload I encountered in Super Deluxe.
So, instead of talking about these things, let me talk about what the film seems to be about.
Filmmakers have dealt with the concept of connectedness of individual stories in different ways. Mani Ratnam in Ayutha Ezhuthu took three individual stories and have them dovetail into a single incident. Linklater in Slacker followed one character for a short while, then followed another who was in the same scene, and then another who was in the same scene with the second character, and so on.
But connectedness can be so much more than just people and stories and even objects caroming off each other. And so much less.
Sometimes, as one character says in the film, we look for a deeper meaning in patterns that could have just been random coincidence. A man turns his life around because he survived a natural disaster, and holds as the basis of his faith, the object that was the instrument of his survival. One could argue, as Jules did in Pulp Fiction, that it didn’t matter if it was an “According to Hoyle” miracle. He felt the touch of God. God got involved. But this character, who has named himself Arputham — meaning miracle — is himself dealing with a crisis of faith. Not only do the others not understand his faith (he doesn’t consider himself Christian, although everyone else seems to), he no longer understands it himself. Has he been seeking meaning where there was none to be found?
But here’s the thing: this is a movie where a character tells us that we might be reading too much into random coincidence, but there is nothing accidental about its making. Nothing.
A little boy learns the f-word when an adult uses it, but it’s not a one-off. You see another boy using the word kamnaatti after you’ve heard an adult in his family use it in an earlier scene. One father’s attempt at suicide is mirrored in his son accidentally harming himself, but that’s not all: another father worries that his sins have been visited upon his son. A throwaway line in the beginning about television beating porn on a phone is illustrated later in an unexpected way. I could go on.
All this does not just happen in a movie. Someone has to make it happen.
And so it is that two viewings and a lot of thinking about Super Deluxe later, all I know for sure are two things:
a. Thyagarajan Kumararaja has made a great film, and
b. He’s definitely messing with us.