Perfect Weave — Frontline on Kanchivaram

SPOILER WARNING!

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Kanchivaram, which won the Best Film Award, is a neatly woven tale about the struggles and dreams of the weavers of India’s silk capital.

WHAT could not be achieved for Tamil cinema by big-budget movies starring mega actors all these years has been accomplished by a film made on a shoestring budget. At the 55th National Film Awards for 2007, Kanchivaram, directed by Priyadarshan, was chosen the Best Feature Film for “presenting a rare portrayal of Kanchi’s silk weaver community and the internal struggle of a weaver caught between his ideals and personal dreams”. Prakash Raj, who plays the lead role, won the Award for Best Actor.

The film, produced by Percept Picture Company and Four Frames, has already been screened at various international festivals, such as Palm Springs, Dubai, Pusan and Toronto.

One has to acknowledge the painstaking efforts made to ensure the authenticity of the “period film”. The difficulties faced in producing the movie can only be imagined, since it covers the period from 1920 to 1948. At no point does the neatly woven story, set in the 1940s, go astray though several flashbacks take the viewer to the 1920s and 1930s. The flashbacks highlight the plight of the weavers, who had to depend on their masters, who, in turn, controlled the handloom industry. The travails, emotions and excitement of the weavers are interlaced perfectly as the story shuttles between the past and the present.

The faithful portrayal of life grips the viewers right from the first frame, where Vengadam (Prakash Raj), the weaver, comes on parole to see his daughter Thamarai (Shammu), and the last one, where he makes a vain bid to cover her body with a silk sari clandestinely woven by him.

During the tedious journey from the prison to the town in a rickety bus, Vengadam looks, through his broken glasses, at his shattered past and clueless future, with incessant rain aggravating the pathos. His poetic expressions shine on the screen.

“The silk weaver can only weave silk, but he or his family members cannot wear it” is the message of Kanchivaram, named after Kancheepuram, the silk capital of India. Vengadam is a shining example of the sorry state of affairs in the silk-weaving sector.

The first of Vengadam’s series of failures comes when he, as a young man, claims that his bride will be in a silk sari. He fails to achieve it. Even though he is teased for this “failure”, he is not offended. The second occasion is when the last rites are performed for his father, a recipient of many awards for his mastery in weaving. When the priest asks Vengadam where “the silk for the body” is, all he can do is hand over a silk thread to tie the toes together. A bystander comments: “All through his life, he has woven yards of silk. Yet today, upon his death, there is not even a piece of cloth to cover his body. That is the fate of the weaver.”

Vengadam weaves a unique bridal sari for his master’s daughter, which bears designs and motifs such as the waves of the sea and a forest in all its richness. But to enable his wife, Annam (Shreya Reddy), to catch a glimpse of it, he has to carry her on his shoulders to reach the venue of the wedding just before the bride enters the horse carriage.

But he would not compromise on his pledge to his baby daughter that he would adorn her in a silk sari at her wedding. He makes this promise against the advice and criticism of his friends and others. He installs a loom in his cattleshed clandestinely and starts weaving the sari using yarn stolen from the master’s loom yard.

Viewers are moved beyond words when an emotional Vengadam, after losing everything in life – his wife, his friends, his relatives, his commitment to the ideology, and finally the smile on his daughter’s face – tells Thamarai, immobilised by a paralytic attack: “See the silk sari that I have been weaving for you for the past 16 years… I have been dreaming every day how you would look in it. I became a thief, a traitor… everything for this; only for this!”

Earlier, the arrival of a communist leader to the town heralds a new awareness in the weaver community. He teaches them through skits and stories the importance of fighting against the crass exploitation by the masters who did not hesitate to award corporal punishment to the weavers on flimsy grounds. He inculcated revolutionary ideas in them by talking to them about the Russian Revolution and other great world events.

Just when the leader realises that his mission to the silk town is over, he is caught and shot dead by the police. Vengadam and his comrades manage to escape. The responsibility of leading the weavers in their struggle to achieve their demands falls on the shoulders of Vengadam, whose commitment to communist ideals and class struggle are reinforced by his arrest by the British police.

The lifting of the ban on the Communist Party, close on the heels of the turn of events in the Second World War, provides the much-needed fillip to the agitation. Denial of the charter of demands advanced by the weavers forces Vengadam to intensify the struggle. He asks his comrades to continue with the struggle for better treatment and a pay increase and tells them not to mind if the protest takes a militant form in a bid to thwart the masters’ move to bring weavers from elsewhere.

But all his commitment to the ideology and the welfare of the weavers wilt and collapse when Vengadam realises that he cannot fulfil his promise to his daughter if the three-month-old struggle goes on. He has to race against time and complete the sari that he is weaving for his daughter, whose marriage has to take place before her soldier bridegroom returns to the battlefield after vacation.

He cannot escape the danger of being dubbed a traitor if he calls off the strike. At the same time, for him, the work has to resume so that he will be able to smuggle the silk yarn necessary to complete the bridal sari. Pushed into a Catch-22 situation, Vengadam waxes eloquent on whether to carry the strike forward or to end it abruptly. Finally, he decides to ditch his comrades and resume work along with a section of the weavers.

Just as he continues to steal silk yarn and weave the sari in his cattleshed with single-minded devotion, ignoring the plight of his fellow weavers, his militant comrades refuse to bow to the masters’ pressure tactics and persist with the struggle. Annoyed at Vengadam’s preparations for his daughter’s wedding, they demand an explanation from him. The erstwhile leader, who has concealed the stolen yarn in his mouth, spills the beans, much to their shock and dismay.

None of the weavers comes to his rescue when Vengadam is thrashed by the masters’ henchmen for the “crime”. In fact, some of the weavers join them in the attack. A helpless Thamarai pleads with her father’s former associate to rescue him from his assailants.

A handcuffed Vengadam is then taken to prison. The marriage is called off. Shortly afterwards, his daughter jumps into a well and becomes paralysed. Coming on a two-day special parole to his town to see her, on February 1, 1948, he pleads with his sister and brother-in-law, who owe him a lot, to take care of the girl until his release but to no avail. The heartbroken weaver, who had always warned his daughter against entering the cattleshed, carries her there to show her the bridal sari.

Vengadam ends the life of his beloved daughter by feeding her poisoned food. In the climax, he makes a desperate effort to cover Thamarai’s body with the incomplete sari. He smiles philosophically at the police escort who tells him that his parole time is over.

The film is not totally free from criticism. Critics, more particularly those from the trade unions, flay the way the protagonist, a trade union activist, is portrayed.

Real-life heroes

K.S. Parthasarathy, the doyen of the cooperative movement and trade unionism in Kancheepuram.

The pre-Independence era has produced outstanding leaders and activists of the trade union movement in Kancheepuram, recalls E. Muthukumar, general secretary of the Tamil Nadu Handloom Weavers’ Federation. One such leader was K.S. Parthasarathy (1910-1990), “KSP” to his comrades and weavers. His role in rallying the silk weavers under the cooperative movement has been acknowledged in the epilogue of the film. Referring to the contrast between the reel-life hero and the real leader, Muthukumar said KSP spearheaded the struggles of the weavers right from 1936 when he was only 26. KSP firmly believed that the freedom movement could not be separated from the efforts to protect the class interest of the working people.

When Krishnasamy Sharma, a freedom fighter belonging to the radical wing of the Congress, died, no one was prepared to take the body to the cremation ground in the face of the repression let loose by the colonial rulers. But the fearless KSP, along with his wife, took the body away in a cart and performed the last rites, he pointed out.

Incidentally, KSP was the first to be arrested in the composite Chengalpattu district for staging an individual satyagraha. He became a communist when he was in the Vellore prison in 1945.

The doyen of the cooperative movement in Kancheepuram, KSP took the initiative to form the first cooperative society for silk weavers, the Kancheepuram Kamatchi Amman Pattu Kaithari Nesavalar Kootturavu Sangam, in 1955, enrolling 110 members. He also played a pivotal role in spreading the cooperative movement of silk weavers in other parts of Tamil Nadu. After the 1960s, as a top leader of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), he continued his tireless work for weavers. In Kancheepuram alone there are 24 such cooperative societies, Muthukumar added.

Though some sections try to project a rosy picture, the life of the majority of the 50,000 silk weavers, spread over 20 panchayats in Kancheepuram district, continues to be terrible, with the economic slowdown adding to their woes. Many weavers working under private managements are bonded labourers. They beat the warp rhythmically for hours together in dingy rooms, hoping against hope to see light at the end of the tunnel.

Some other critics point out that though the hero of Kanchivaram compromises on the weavers’ struggle, his close associate (Jayakumar) refuses to budge and carries on with the protest. It may not be accidental that this character has been named ‘Sarathy’, they say. The highest national film awards for the movie and its lead actor during the birth centenary celebrations of KSP is a fitting tribute to the outstanding trade unionist and freedom fighter.

This achievement for Tamil cinema has come after a gap of 17 years. No doubt, the stellar performance of the actors – Prakash Raj, Shreya Reddy, Jayakumar and Shammu – and the brilliant work in other departments – editing by Arunkumar, cinematography by Thiru, artwork by Sabu Cyril, as well as direction by Priyadarshan – enabled Kanchivaram win the ultimate accolade in the Indian film world.

25 Responses to “Perfect Weave — Frontline on Kanchivaram”

  1. older posts (love the shots at the top in each case specially in the second instance):

    National award winner Kanchivaram will have all India release on Oct 30

    Priyan’s Kanchivaram on Mar 13

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  2. Man, this review has far too many spoilers…

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  3. Q, I second that – although the piece is well-written, it reveals everything abt. the movie…..

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  4. Prakashraj interview from the same source:

    ‘A moment in my journey’

    S. DORAIRAJ

    Interview with Prakash Raj, winner, the 2007 National Film Award for the Best Actor.

    K. BHAGYA PRAKASH

    Prakash Raj:”I am in cinema because it is basically the journey of my life.”

    PRAKASH RAJ won the Best Supporting Actor award for his role in the Tamil movie Iruvar in 1998. But this time it is double delight: the National Film Award for the Best Actor for his performance in Kanchivaram, which depicts the life and struggle of weavers of the silk capital of India, and the Best Feature Film Award for the movie. Prakash Raj, known for his frank views, speaks on a wide range of issues in this interview to Frontline. Excerpts:

    What does this national award mean to you? Please tell us about the Kanchivaram experience, and your journey through Tamil cinema and Indian cinema?

    In the context of our country, the national award for any actor or film-maker is a very important recognition in his life’s journey, [and one] which will probably be a milestone. For some it may be the goal, but for me it is a moment in the journey where you are recognised for your work. It turns into a milestone and you continue the journey.

    Coming to my journey in Tamil cinema and Indian cinema, as an actor or now as a producer, for me it so happens that I am in cinema because it is basically the journey of my life. As you understand, we do not come from a culture where we are brought up with cinema as a profession in mind. Probably this may happen in the next generation; or a few of the present generation whose parents are in cinema are being nurtured from a young age. But in most cases it is a search for an identity to express yourself. There is no known history of anybody having been in the field of arts in my family. For me it is more like having stumbled into the profession. Now probably you share yourself and as you gather momentum, you turn into whatever you are. And in a matter of 15 to 17 years you look like a veteran in cinema.
    You have described Vengadam’s role in Kanchivaram as the most intense and powerful character you have done. What makes you feel so?

    I am not one of those actors who do a lot of homework. When you see the film, you can see there is a dilemma between ideology and life. It is a turmoil, between the love for his daughter, his dream, and his ideology. See, when you start thinking about all these things and looking from all these dimensions, it is a different world where probably I am more informed as an actor.

    Though it was a piece of information before I entered the role, I forget it later because, for me, when I approach Vengadam, it is a human story. So I tell the director, Priyadarshan: “Priyan, you continue to direct. Put it in order because for me the challenge is to start the film on the first day and finish it on the 30th day.” But through this 30-day journey, you intend to portray a life that spans 20 years. So, for me, I start proceeding and understanding as he shoots in the chronological order.

    When I enter this role, I am empty as in a Zen master’s story because that is where the director can fill in me whatever he needs and it is all total surrender. Do what he wants, and just add to it your experience as an artist.

    You have done very serious roles, as in Iruvar and Kanchivaram. At the same time you seem to fit into chirpy roles too, as in Mozhi and Gilli…

    It is as simple as that: I am an actor and I am expected to be an actor. I am requested to be an actor and I am paid to be an actor. I am committed to being an actor. So I just do the same – in intensity or perception or the time spent. The time I spent on Kanchivaram is as much as the time I spent on Iruvar or on Mozhi or on Abiyum Nanum or on Gilli.

    It just so happens in the context of India that we need to balance between the commercial and artistic needs. Around 99 per cent of the time we only entertain, to make a living out of it. There I take upon myself a social responsibility, within me. My conscience says, “Don’t do films that are crass or that cross the border into obscenity in my perception, so that I do not earn out of it.” But if it is harmless entertainment, it is fine.

    At the same time, an actor is not a chooser but a beggar, because he is not cinema. An actor can never be cinema. An actor may be one of the major colours of a painting.
    You have placed on record that your bread and butter is commercial cinema. Still you strive to make different movies.

    Both of them are bread and butter for me. But one part of the bread and butter is for the stomach and the other is for the brain. Two different types of hunger I have in life. You can’t expect me to do ten Kanchivarams in a year. I will go bankrupt.
    You are considered a great producer to work with. You have been paying tributes to your directors for shaping you as a good actor. When are you going to don the director’s role?

    I never knew that I would be an actor. Now I am one. I never knew that I was going to be a producer. Now I am one. It is kicking within. Soon I will be a director.
    Kanchivaram revolves around the communist ideology and how it impacts the lives of weavers…

    Communist ideology is one part of the story. But for that matter no ideology in the country or the world has been followed to its complete sense because there has always been a dilemma between human dream and ideology. And that is what happens here too.
    Is cinema a mere mass entertainer or an instrument of social change? Is it not difficult to strike a balance between the two?

    How do you see painting? How do you see writing? How do you see sculpture? Everything is an art form. Over the years, you document the person behind the works when you talk about great writers, sculptors or film-makers. Cinema as a medium has come from outside. We have taken it as it is a very powerful tool. But here again, 90 per cent of the time we are trying to use this medium for doing the same larger-than-life characters. It has to transcend the present stage of catering to the taste of the audience and grow to its full form and become a medium of expression. It is a long process. Till then you will have to continue to balance and work.
    You have drawn a parallel between the creative writers Lankesh and Jayakanthan. Do you have any proposal to make films based on their works?

    Drawing a parallel between creative writers Lankesh, Adiga or Jayakanthan, or Chalam, speaks of my perception of literature. It need not be necessary that their works should be turned into films. But my perceptions can be turned into films because they are in a different form altogether.
    You are an actor who is quite frank about his views. Has this got you into trouble in this sensitive industry? Do you think an actor needs to be diplomatic?

    It depends on his strength, on his own integrity. It depends on the person’s comfort level. But I would say, “Don’t be too diplomatic as one day a spade will have to be called a spade.”
    You are regarded highly for your ability to do different roles. How do you think your theatre background has helped? Would you still like to act in a stage play?

    Yes. Theatre has helped me. My reading of literature has helped me. Theatre and reading of literature always help you in understanding or sensitising your perception. These are very important things for any actor. But there are certain actors who are gifted. These born actors do not need such things. Well, going back to theatre, in my journey I have come from stage to cinema and I am still in awe of this magic. I don’t want to go back for the sake of going back. I won’t say going back is wrong. But for me I am still in awe of this journey. When I feel like, I will go, or I may never go if I don’t have the time in my life.
    History has shown that cinema, which is a mass-based performing art, cannot remain unaffected by the socio-political atmosphere prevailing in the world. Would you like to comment?

    It has to reflect, it has to document, it has to dissect, it has to evaluate, it has to discuss and it has to express. But there again it will find its purest, strongest expression only when this medium gets into the hands of responsible, sensitive and aggressive individuals who are guided by conscience. So, it depends on how many of us – individuals of our country – become morally responsible and would like to master this tool and use it this way.
    Actors Rajnikant and Kamal Haasan have time and again appealed to political leaders not to bring politics into cinema.

    Politics is different from cinema. But if an actor is totally committed to politics, he can use it to express his ideology. But don’t misuse the love and affection the people have for an art. Don’t distort it into a political vote. By doing so, you are not making a voter more conscious about his right and more sensitive to his right. But rather, you are using his weakness. It is like somebody giving you a hundred rupee note to buy something and you purchase something else and tell the person that this is what you should have.
    As an alternative to mainstream commercial cinema, can leading film stars help parallel cinema?

    That is the only way in this country because it is the responsibility of the already popular film stars. Otherwise, it will take a long time for parallel cinema to find its feet. It is the responsibility of all sensible and popular actors and technicians to make a conscious decision to devote some time to parallel cinema.
    Recently you stated that you are an agnostic. How do you see attempts to divide people and let loose violence in the name of religion?

    For me religion is a personal thing, like sex. It is an individual’s belief. So, being a believer or non-believer does not matter as long as you are not going to force your views on others. Cultures have come in to help people live as a community and not to divide them. Religion should make you human. If it forces you into making moral judgments, it is wrong. It is the animal in us that is using the name of religion, caste, wealth and power. All these things should make the human in you more beautiful and more colourful. They should not make you say that you are better than others.

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  5. Had the pleasure of seeing this on the big screen with Satyam and Qalandar yesterday. Obviously the best film Priyadarshan’s ever made and probably will ever make (even if there are a couple of movies from his 80s Malayalam work that I’d probably revisit more easily!) unless he transfers this artistic victory into more focused and ambitious efforts. Especially impressive is the camerawork which is consistently gorgeous and uses color brilliantly throughout (particularly the reds that appropriately pop up as the tale begins touching on a Communist movement and the accompanying dangers). Thiru deserves awards for his camerawork here which is among the very best I’ve seen in recent times. The very end takes a morbid twist that feels more in the mold of commercial Tamil cinema but overall this is a fine work with a fine Prakashraj performance.

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    • Hope to do a piece on this GF but this was definitely one for the big screen. Exquisitely shot throughout. Thanks for your thoughts.

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    • do you recall the title of that short on the blind chess players?

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    • Pretty much my sense of the film as well (although I have only seen one Malayalam film by Priyan, it was from 1991 or so and featured Lal as an armyman who returns to his town and kicks ass; other than the Tamil Lesa Lesa, I have only seen his Hindi films), Kanchivaram is certainly the best Priyan film I have seen — although I am hard-pressed to pinpoint a Priyan “style”, he is one of those directorial chameleons…

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  6. Satyam – Q and I were talking about the short yesterday and while I thought it was a remarkable story it was sad that the DVD they played was sped up for some reason so you had all the interviews speaking in high pitched voices and the hands moving, at times, very rapidly….it was odd and distracting but yes the story itself was pretty moving stuff.

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  7. Wow, a fine movie and coming together of the triumvirate. How much better can it get.

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  8. LOL.

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  9. Hindu:

    Agony and irony — Kanchivaram

    How do you critique a film whose fabric is multi-layered and whose warp and weft include the social, cultural and political ethos of an age gone by? One that throws light on the helplessness of the working class in the grip of a heartless feudal system?

    Writer-director Priyadarshan proves his mettle as a maker of merit in Kanchivaram (U) which has a sterling portrayal from Prakash Raj who has been ably supported by the rest of the cast. The subtle humour that lifts its head in a few places, the clarity in story telling technique and the acumen evident in the climax bear testimony to Priyadarshan’s skills.

    Reality is rarely colourful, particularly when coupled with poverty. The irony is stark and striking as it is a tale of a weaver in the silk town of Kanchivaram who is always working amidst eye-catching hues to make yards of lustrous silk for the prosperous while his own life is dull and colourless.

    Set in the 1940s with flashbacks going back still further, this Percept Picture Company & Four Frames presentation is a heart-rending tale of Vengadam (Prakash Raj), Annam (Shreya Reddy), and daughter Thamarai (Shammu). In their community the vow a father makes at the time of his child’s birth is meant to be kept at all cost. And Vengadam in his moment of joy promises his new-born daughter a silk sari at the time of her wedding. The entire neighbourhood is aghast and thinks Vengadam is out of his mind. With no option in sight he steals a strand of silk every day and begins to weave a sari for his daughter. Wife dies, daughter grows up, and all the while his weaving and thieving continue … Excellent underplay marks the performance of Prakash Raj, who essays the difficult role of the poverty-stricken silk weaver. The classic smirk in the climax that conveys myriad emotions is example enough.

    As a loving wife Shreya Reddy fills the bill. A commendable show also comes from Jayakumar. His shock on seeing his erstwhile friend guilty looks real.

    Arun Kumar’s editing sees to it that the oscillation of the story between the past and present remains lucid till the very end. Yet certain scenes seem to end abruptly. The incessant rains present a picture of gloom in tune with the mood. Cinematographer Thiru’s effective choice of colours and tones, the silhouettes and close-ups help to convey the film’s message poignantly. Thiru’s sepia tones and muted lighting enhance the impact of Sabu Cyril’s artwork that shimmers through the film. Much care has gone into getting the period look of the film right. Dialogue is a strong aspect of ‘Kanchivaram.’ The pleasing melody of M.G. Sreekumar’s lullaby, ‘Ponnoonjal,’ rings in your ears for long.

    Faux pas though minimal, do exist. At the mundane level the colour, design and texture of the silk material Vengadam weaves for his daughter seems to undergo changes now and then. And on a slightly higher plane, the wife who is hardly affected by her husband’s promise initially breaks into sobs over the issue in the very next scene!

    We’ve had enough of masala fare. Those who wish to have glimpses of the callousness of the haves and agony of the have-nots of a bygone era would do well to watch Kanchivaram. It leaves you with a heavy heart. Yet even as you empathise with the plight of the silk weaver, you also heave a sigh of relief that such straits of the down-trodden are now a thing of the past.

    Kanchivaram

    Genre: Period film

    Director: Priyadarshan

    Cast: Prakash Raj, Shreya Reddy, Jayakumar, Shammu.

    Storyline: During the pre-Independence era, a silk weaver in ‘Kanchivaram’ makes an impossible promise.

    Bottomline: Worth its weight in silk!

    MALATHI RANGARAJAN

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