In Indian cinema, historical fiction or biopics of royalty from the bygone eras, have invariably been aimed at singing the glories of the emperors. To show one king as the greatest of them all, most narratives resort to villainising the opponent.
What most of these films overlooked is that ultimate power corrupts, and there is a sense of evilness that pervades even the purest of souls. Filmmaker Dharani Rasendran’s Yaathisai is both the story of the oppressor and the oppressed. The director makes a daring statement the latter is no better when the roles are reversed and it is the animalistic urge to overpower the others that ultimately wins.
To present this powerful philosophy, Dharani gives a fictional twist to history and presents an episode from the life of the Eyinar clan, warring under the leadership of Kodhi(an excellent Seyon), against Ranadheeran (Shakthi Mithran) of the Pandiyan dynasty.
YaathisaiThrough multiple dialogues and visuals, the film keeps reiterating the fact that wars are initiated by men to satisfy their thirst for power and authority, but they are often covered up with the agendas like liberation, livelihood and dignity. For instance, during an important scene, Kodhi says, “Only our forms and shapes change, but our lust for authority is eternal,” to his Thevaradiyar concubine. The scene is beautifully intertwined with another parallel sequence of Ranadheeran’s sexual encounter with his newly wedded partner, not out of love, but to showcase his control and power over her.
Though there is a lot to laud about the writing of Dharani, it is his finesse in staging the film and drawing impactful performances that elevate Yaathisai to a whole new level. The filmmaker has successfully delivered deeply affecting cinema without many compromises and within a restricted budget. Excluding a couple of CG shots that don’t hit the mark, the film stands tall on the visual front. The film has one of the most realistic war sequences in Tamil cinema, and despite its length, these stretches are very engaging.
Unlike traditional war films where the focus largely lingers on the leads, Yaathisai gives prominence to the extras too. This approach makes us ponder the massive collateral damage every king created for their personal gains. Instead of aiming to deliver a spectacle involving thousands of junior artists in the battleground, the director restricts our field of vision to just over twenty soldiers at a time to increase the engagement factor and it works brilliantly.
I also loved the detailing that went into establishing the communication strategies and diet of the warriors on the war field. Interestingly, the overdose of gore and the incessant beast-like screams of the warring men come across as the extension of their toxic masculinity.
Despite having ample drama, the film doesn’t stick to the hero-villain narrative and presents both the leading men and their allies in darker shades of grey. Though this approach works in favour of the philosophical angle of Yaathisai, we lose out on having a character to root for. This, in turn, eats away the theatrical moments we are conditioned to, and we are at arm’s length from the highs and lows, the falls and redemptions of all the principal characters.
Thevaradiyars are probably the only good people lost in this dance of the devils. But, even when ill fate looms over them like a dark cloud, they don’t seem to care much. I understand it is a conscious decision of the filmmaker to show the numbness in them, but after a point, all the characters start feeling unidimensional and the repetition of the ‘men are mean and women are meek’ trope gets overwhelming soon.
In the hands of an inferior technical crew, Yaathisai would have been in danger of becoming troll content. But cinematographer Akilesh Kathamuthu and editor Mahendran Ganesan have done a fantastic job, ably aided by the VFX team headed by Ravikumar Ananthraj and art director Ranjith Kumar. Thanks to the invested works of these men, Yaathisai almost feels like a time travel to the seventh century.
The only area I found the film to be wanting is the background score. While it does seem like composer Chakravarthy opted to deliver a mystic touch to the background score without resorting to suggestive music, the strategy hardly works in favour of the overall experience. With such powerful visuals on display, one can’t help but wonder about the magic that could have been created with the backing of an affecting background score.
The throne in Yaathisai is the equivalent of the ring in the classic The Lord of The Rings as it ends up corrupting the possessor. In a wonderfully shot sequence, we see Kodhi slowly falling for the venom of the throne and indulging in the seven deadly sins within a matter of minutes. He consumes sin like there is no tomorrow and ignores the massive threats awaiting him.
He even forgets the ultimate purpose of redeeming his people and by the time reality hits him, he is already deep into the pit he dug for himself. With the lessons he learnt from his mistakes, Kodhi faces his nemesis Ranadheeran in a death duel, and at a crucial point, he says, “Even if I die, I will live in the form of you.”
Looking outwardly, it is a bizarre thing to say to an enemy and it would have felt more apt if the other person was a son or a successor. But on second thought, we realise the statement’s deeper layers. Did Kodhi curse Ranadheeran to be the bearer of his sins? Did he imply that all men of power are equally evil? Did he say that sinners don’t get redemption even at death?
We don’t get an explanation, but it makes us introspect about power, masculinity, sins, and death. When a film made by a team of newcomers can leave us with such intense thoughts and deliver a wholesome theatrical experience with its novel treatment, it surely deserves a king’s welcome.
Director: Dharani Rasendran Cast: Seyon, Shakthi Mithran, Rajalakshmi Gopalakrishnan
