Mullai Nadu is plagued
by dacoits who loot and kill tradesmen and caravans entering the kingdom. The
king (Sivasooriyan) is under the control of the Raj guru (MN Nambiar). The
latter’s son, Parthiban (SA Natarajan), had had ambitions of becoming the
commander-in-chief of the army, but his arch-rival Veeramohan (MGR) is elected
unanimously. A miffed Parthiban takes to dacoity to avenge his humiliation. It
is he who heads the gang that’s creating such chaos in Mullai Nadu.
When the nth caravan
is looted and travellers murdered, the survivors approach the king for relief.
When his offer of compensation is rejected by the grieving survivors, the king
orders Veeramohan to produce the dacoits in eight days. Veeramohan sets his men
to search high and low for the dacoits.
Meanwhile,
Parthiban, lusting after Jeevarekha (G Shakuntala), the princess, sends her a
note begging her to meet him secretly. The note falls into the hands of
Amudhavalli (Madhuri Devi), the minister’s daughter. Jeevarekha is in love with
Veeramohan, and Amudhavalli assumes that the princess is being courted by both
men.
Knowing Parthiban’s reputation, Amudhavalli is determined to save Jeevarekha
from the consequences.[But of course, talking to her friend is not one of her options!] She follows
Jeevarekha (who’s run off to meet Veeramohan) but loses her trail. Knowing where
Parthiban would be waiting, she makes her way there. Parthiban, who was
expecting the princess, in not dissatisfied at seeing Amudhavalli there. As he
said to his henchman earlier, ‘Naan vandu, ethineyo pookkal undu.’ ("I’m
a bee, there are many flowers out there.")
Though Amudhavalli
has, she says, come to save the princess’s chastity, she is soon sweet-talked
into falling in love with Parthiban. [If that sounds daft, it’s because
it is.] Soon the two couples are billing and cooing but Veeramohan, at
least, is distracted – he must discover the thieves. [He seems more interested in that than in the princess, but then she's spinning like a top, so I can say I blame him.]
And then Veeramohan has
a stroke of luck – he and his men join a caravan that’s entering the kingdom.
As he suspects, the dacoits attack and he’s able to unmask the head. To his
shock, it’s Parthiban. Veeramohan produces Parthiban in court.
Amudhavalli, who’s shocked beyond belief at this turn of
events, pleads first with Parthiban (to apologize) and then with her father to free
him. The minister refuses, of course, and the next morning, despite his father’s
many attempts to free him, Parthiban is sentenced to death.
The minister is
torn, however; Parthiban is the Raj guru’s son, after all, and his defence in
court is most convincing. Alone in his chambers, he addresses the goddess,
hoping for a sign that he had done the right thing. Unfortunately for him, the
reverse happens. Amudhavalli, who hides behind the goddess’s idol, pronounces
Parthiban innocent.
The shaken minister
goes off to inform the king. Believing that the goddess had indeed spoken, the
king sets Parthiban free, despite Veeramohan’s scepticism. The Raj guru demands
his pound of flesh, the minister intervenes, and Veeramohan is merely exiled
instead of beheaded for ‘conspiring to murder’ Parthiban.
To make amends for
what he sees as his error of judgement, the minister offers Parthiban his
daughter’s hand in marriage. The king, not to be outdone, makes Parthiban the
commander-in-chief. The news prompts
Jeevarekha to run away to be with Veeramohan. Parthiban and Amudhavalli are
married and live happily ever after.
Well, almost, because despite Amudhavalli’s
touching [and touched-in-the-head!] belief that her husband would have
turned over a new leaf, Parthiban is soon looting and plundering.
Meanwhile, the Raj
guru has ambitions – like Iznogoud, he wants to be the king instead of the king.
So, he sounds out Theekanna, the palace guard, bribing him with the dreams of being minister once he, the Raj guru is crowned king.
And Parthiban, accosted by Amudhavalli, who’s
seen his bloodstained garments and suspects he’s back to doing what he loves
most ["Who woulda thunk?"as the Americans would say], is busy planning her
murder so he can marry Jeevarekha and become the crown prince.
Will he succeed?
What happens to Veeramohan and Jeevarekha? How will Amudhavalli face the
knowledge of her husband’s murdering ways?
 |
Photo courtesy: West Virginia State Archives [Karan Bali]
|
Who cares?
By the time I
watched this film for the sixth time (15 hours I’ll never get back), I could
cheerfully have helped Parthiban kill Amudhavalli. In fact, I wonder that
someone hadn’t killed this woman already!
How much do I hate
her? Let me count the ways:- She’s a self-righteous @#^...
and all set to ‘catch’
Jeevarekha in a compromising position. When she spies a compromising letter, she assumes the worst of her
friend and makes snarky remarks about lust vs. love.
- What’s worse than a self-righteous bore? A foolish
self-righteous bore.
When she meets
Parthiban and discovers that the princess is not around, does she go away? No,
she stands there snarking at him, and then, at the first bit of flattery,
promptly falls ‘in love’ with him.
- She’s so sure she can 'reform' her beloved.
Don't take my word for it. She sings a song telling us so. God/FSM save me! Did no
one tell this babe that men are not made of clay that you can ‘change’ them?
- She cares not a whit for her father’s honour.
When she deceives
him into letting Parthiban go, does she ever stop to think that he might be
devastated when he finds out? [At least, it answers the question where she got
her [lack of] intelligence from!]
- Nor does she care, apparently, that she’s framing an innocent man.
Even though she knows that Veeramohan has been exiled because of her actions and that her 'best friend' Jeevarekha has left the palace to be with him.
She’s a bloody hypocrite.
She is so busy simpering at her husband, it’s quite some time
before she says [in that mealy-mouthed pious manner], “Oh, I wonder where poor
Jeevarekha is and how she’s faring.” As a seven-year-old once told me incredulously, “Seriously,
dude?”
What makes it all so
much worse is that she’s supposed to be the heroine, the role model, the 'independent woman', the symbol
of sacrifice. No, I’m not making this up; in case you didn’t appreciate her ‘sacrifice’,
they sing a song about it! Bah!
Madhuri Devi wasn't bad in the role. It was just the character who made me want to barf. She did her best with what she had, but the acting of the time demanded several of Memsaab's Nahiin! faces. So she widened her eyes and her nostrils as and when the occasion demanded it.
Neither MGR nor
Shakuntala had much to do, except sing songs and in the case of the former, declaim some
fine speeches.
MN Nambiar was fabulously evil as always and Sivasooriyan was
both intentionally and unintentionally comic. (The less said about the comic
side plot the better.) The only one who comes
off well in this film is SA Natarajan. In his Parthiban, you had a deliciously unapologetic
villain, completely camp and totally over the top. But, at least, he was no hypocrite.
Right from the
beginning where he tells his father that dacoity is high art, he sets the tone
for his character. He refuses to apologize for his actions even to free himself
because, as he says, then he will be forced to give up his plundering ways. Besides, he’s
not sorry in the least. And if he is to 'die for his art’, well, so be it.
What’s more, he’s
brutally honest – when Amudhavalli, who’s turning on the waterworks in the
prison begs him to think of her, he snaps, “Here I’m about to die, where the
hell do I have the time to think of you?’
When he claims in
court that he’s innocent of the charges against him, he’s still defiant and
unapologetic. Also, he has a penchant for talking in rhyme. Apart from the earlier one about the flowers and bees, he also tells Veeramohan "Arasa naaye, moodida vaaye." [Literally "Shut your mouth, you palace dog! - but it sounds so much better in Tamil.)
When Amudhavalli
excoriates him for being who he is, he points out – quite fairly – that she
knew exactly who he was when she married him. He had told her so. So, for her
to shed tears now is hypocrisy. I cheered.
Manthrikumari, based on a play of the same name written by
M Karunanidhi, is based on an incident from Kundalakesi, the Tamil epic
poem, but including Karunanidhi's
socialist rhetoric and his assiduous campaign against brahminical caste
hierarchy which would later prove to be the platform of the Dravidian
movement he eventually headed.
It is considered one of the seminal films in Tamil cinema. Apart from the
fact that both Karunanidhi and MG Ramachandran would go on to play an important
part in the politics of the state in later years, Manthrikumari was the
last film to be directed by Ellis Dungan, the American director who made
several films in Tamil and one in Hindi – Meera. The film boasts a stellar music score by G Ramanathan - 14 wonderful songs, with great lyrics by M. Maruthakasi (and one song written by Karunanidhi himself). You can also spot all three Travancore sisters in one dance, as well as Kamala [later Lakshman] in another dance.
I know Manthrikumari
is considered
to be a classic. I have been told it is a classic. I’ve also been told that the minister's daughter is the epitome of a woman’s love and sacrifice.
To that, all I can
say is, Bah! Humbug!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Anybody who wants to watch this film will find a beautifully restored (thanks to Tom), well-subtitled (even if I do say so myself!) print on his channel here.
p.s. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Ram Murali for going above and beyond the call of friendship to help me translate the songs.
No comments:
Post a Comment