— Mysskin’s cinema is physical. The fight scenes in his films occupy the extreme ends of a spectrum. They are either divided into the simplest of images – where the cause and effect of an action occupy different shots and we rarely see two bodies in interaction – or are presented in their entirely, prioritizing spatial continuity over fragmentation and highlighting corporeality of an action over its meaning. The frames are chopped; characters’ heads cut off. In his world of action, hands and feet are all that matter. (Severing body parts is not an unusual act in this universe). People don’t have time for patient phone calls. They keep running, falling and scuffling. So does the camera, which crouches when they crouch, which lurches when they lurch, which sits back when they sit and which trembles from afar when they do. Mysskin is impatient with two shots and his restless, gently swaying camera converts these expository moments into a survey of the set, a documentation of an ensemble performance.
— These films are tightly plotted, very convoluted affairs; their solution always at an arm’s length. Instead of the clutter clearing up, it keeps growing knottier and knottier until cutting through is the only way out. These resolutions, themselves, come across as cathartic experiences. Characters barely know the trajectories of others and how they interfere with their own. Like mice in a maze, they keep holding on to their version of truth until they get the view from above. It is this partial concealment/ignorance of information through which the movies attain tragic proportions. Mysskin’s men make grave choices and often the wrong one. They try to vindicate themselves, only to hurt themselves over and over and descend deeper into guilt that is predicated on an equivalence that recognizes one’s own condition in another. They suffer, and come out as better men. Their redemption is possible because they suffer. Mysskin’s pictures, likewise, are at their best when under generic constraints. Mysskin is at his most liberated when tethered.
— The men and women in these films find themselves in similar situations time and time again. Despite all their actions and choices, they seem to come back to where they started from. It is of little surprise that much of the acting in these movies consists of repeated gestures and words. Be it pacing up and down a hall, where we see them oscillating about like a human pendulum, or fighting a gang of armed men, each of whom comes forward individually – like ascending notes in a motif – for a showdown, invoking comparison to both the martial arts and dance choreography. Likewise, we see them getting stuck in language loops – repeated words and phrases – until they attain a rhythm that reveals more than the words themselves do. This inclination for repetition informs Mysskin’s aesthetic as well, with some loopy, shrill, Bernard Herrmann-esque score (at least one of his lead men recalls Scottie Ferguson) and a number of repeating compositions.
— Mysskin is one of the few filmmakers in the country who can take melodrama head on without falling back. He is not a minimalist trying to sap out the excess from it, but a director working on a grand canvas, blowing up the form. Much like John Ford, with whom he shares an affinity for the sky and the heroes who adorn it, Mysskin uses music to enrich the gravity of a situation than substituting for it, to multiply emotions rather than adding them; instinctive rather than instructive, expressionistic rather than expressive. Mysskin earns his violins. At times, the deployment is incongruous (and prescient) with what we are seeing, but, in retrospect, is overwhelming. Like Ford, he has this uncanny ability to elevate commonplace gestures and glances to mythical levels. A Western by Mysskin wouldn’t really be a surprise, given how his own filmmaking instincts and themes derive from Westerns, by way of Samurai movies: codes of honor, responsibility towards one’s men.
— Although God is never quite absent from the films’ worlds, His silence becomes too threatening. There is a myriad of God’s eye compositions that seem to witness all sorts of activities with equanimity, without judgment. It is perhaps the worlds themselves that have fallen and it is probably up to the people who live in it to sort it all out. Mysskin’s camera that keeps descending from the sky onto the ground, then, signals a universe where man has to take up the responsibility of God, in His silence. This goes well along with Mysskin’s deep-rooted distrust of institutionalized justice and his muddled yet ultimately silly plea for vigilantism. (He is much more comfortable and intriguing when dealing with metaphysical ideas than sociopolitical particulars). The men in his films never seem to be able to fit into rigid establishments and find law and justice to be concepts often diverging from each other.
(Filmography: Chithiram Pesuthadi (2006), Anjathey (2008), Nandhalala (2010), Yuddham Sei (2011))
June 27, 2011 at 6:54 am
“Although God is never quite absent from the films’ worlds, His silence becomes too threatening. There is a myriad of God’s eye compositions that seem to witness all sorts of activities with equanimity, without judgment. It is perhaps the worlds themselves that have fallen and it is probably up to the people who live in it to sort it all out. Mysskin’s camera that keeps descending from the sky onto the ground, then, signals a universe where man has to take up the responsibility of God, in His silence…”
Wow, Srikanth, you’ve taken on an incedible project here and infused it with all kinds of abstract truths and an impassioned examination of an aesthetic. Your screen cap display and you tube presentation give your words some added resonance. I didn’t hear Herrmann as much as Glass and Adama, but it’s an incessant and pulsating score nonetheless. This is another artist I am delinquent on.
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June 27, 2011 at 8:35 am
Thank you, Sam. Mysskin is a very mainstream director, far from the zone of art cinema. And he’s very flawed as well. But there are certain passages that just take you by surprise, Just wanted to capture them from a cinephile’s POV.
Cheers!
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June 27, 2011 at 6:22 pm
I can’t comment on the whole article because I have watched only one movie of his, ‘Yuddham Sei’. As you said, parts of it are very surprising for a Tamil mainstream movie but eventually he gets caught in the vigilante trap and the picture came crashing down. It had everything in it to make a nice thriller or even go above that genre but lack of an overall vision let him down. What started as a Myshkin movie ended as a Shankar movie. Unfortunate.
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June 27, 2011 at 8:02 pm
The endorsement of vigilantism, moot at that, is very irritating, Wonder if Mysskin really believes in it or if he saw it as only a way out here. Hope none of that’s there in the next.
Cheers!
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July 5, 2011 at 12:24 am
I hear about him a lot from my Tamil friend here. But yet to see any of his works. The framing definitely looks intriguing( its rare to see a good frame, unlike a ‘beautiful shot’ in our cinema) – a mise en scene that actually works.
So definitely gonna watch his works this year.
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July 5, 2011 at 7:15 am
I don’t know if subtitled versions are available, but do catch them if possible, Nitesh.
Cheers!
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July 5, 2011 at 10:03 am
Very good analysis.
@srikanth : Though I agree with you when you say Mysskin glorifies violence and tries to show his mistrust in institutionalized justice, I disagree with you in that revenge is being perceived as vigilantism (in Yuddham sei).
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July 5, 2011 at 10:16 am
Suresh,
At the end, Judas turns to the camera and says: “What would you have done if it was your daughter?”.
Given that Mysskin’s next is a superhero movie, I think I know exactly what to expect.
Thanks and cheers!
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July 10, 2011 at 7:33 pm
Finaly watched Yuddham Sei, thereby making Mysskin the only director whose entire filmography I have watched.
The message from Judas at the end was particularly disappointing, coming as it did moments after what I thought was an outstanding line ‘konjam moola irukaravane …. ‘.
One general query I have is, when does a pattern become just repetitive and when does it become a style? (eg : his shots of the legs, just the legs, either in restless motion or still, like the hanging girl in this movie. What’s the technical term btw?)
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July 10, 2011 at 7:47 pm
Kutty,
I was galled even by that line. Doesn’t sound right at all.
The line between repetitiveness and style is indeed vague. Some would buy the repetition for what it is in itself. Others might just dismiss it as idiosyncrasy. I, personally, am lenient towards such stylistic quirks and enjoy them as they are, but wouldn’t claim greatness if such repetition fails to achieve something substantial (which is a debatable adjective by itself, but for another day).
Technical term for repetition? Or chopping of body parts? I wouldn;t know either.
Cheers!
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July 10, 2011 at 9:11 pm
I felt that line was the only one fitting in with the scene. As in, it wasn’t a call for vigilantism like the ‘message’ line. Kind of fit in well with a man dying, who was taking pride in what he had achieved, in an evil kind of a way.
And I meant the term for all those down below (low level) shots. :)
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October 22, 2012 at 11:05 am
Terrific Essay.Wanting to Myshkin films from a long time.Did you watch any telugu films?I know they are far from what is called Art Cinema but I’m pretty sure there are telugu films worthy of praise and time.Hoping you would do a piece on them :)
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January 1, 2013 at 4:59 pm
Thanks, Varun. No, I haven’t seen any Telugu film in entirely. Happy New Year.
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January 1, 2013 at 5:43 pm
Thanks.Same to you :)
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