I watched Yevade
Subrahmanyam last night, and I can’t get it out of my head.
On most days, I would have
been a snob about the film and dismissed it straight away as being too
predictable and clichéd, but I can’t seem to do that today. It has done
something a lot of films that I liked immensely couldn’t do – to make me think,
retrospect, ruminate, sulk, and become restless in general. Mind you, it has
nothing to do with the film, or its acting, cinematography, editing, screenplay
et al, in fact none of them impressed me, the film is not about any of them,
nor is it about any life changing incidents or heart-tugging emotions, in fact
the conscience, or the presence, of the film is felt much later. Long after I got
away from the theater, I can’t shake off the discomfort clouding over me
whenever I walk alone or have a moment with myself. I can’t seem to stop
thinking about the movie, and the questions it raises.
Subrahmanyam, the man
reluctant to go on the journey of his life, is one of us who paid a lot of
good money watching the film. He talks a lot of sense when he admonishes his
friend about shedding responsibilities, choosing to be a nomad, helps a poor
girl to his best of his abilities while ensuring that his new car doesn’t get
spoiled, does not seem to do anything illegal or unethical in his plans to
acquire the Ramayya company. Yet, he was constantly put in his place, talked down
for being practical, calculating and ambitious, but when the big moment of his
life kicks in, a chance conversation with a foreigner, everything changes for
him. What exactly he has changed himself to is vague, something even the director
seems to have no clue about, or left for our imagination.
Frankly, it rings quite
true, for anyone who is facing a midlife crisis will tell you that there are no
easy answers for any of the questions your mind conjures up after watching
Yevade Subrahmanyam. The film, as said earlier, takes a convenient route of a loveless
marriage and a sparking love story, but the larger issues of existential
dilemma are left for each of us to sort ourselves out. In that sense, the
epilogue is more important than any of the incidents in the film, coz the real
film starts the moment the actual one ends. Nag Ashwin can’t write it for us.
We have to do it ourselves.
I recommend Yevade
Subramanyam to everyone for the sheer power of the film and the potential of what
it may do to you, but be warned that once you watch it, you can’t unwatch it,
how much ever you wish to do so.
