‘Vaazhai’ movie review: Mari Selvaraj’s profound, deeply aching bio-drama is a masterpiece
In his most personal work to date, and arguably his career-best feature, Mari Selvaraj displays exceptional control over his film language to tell a deeply aching tale of a stolen childhood
(Originally published in The Hindu on August 23, 2024)
Burdened beyond his years, a tender-hearted boy from a world far removed from contemporary cinema discourse sits at his bench in school. With the naivities of the age tussling inexplicable feelings he is suddenly brushed with, he takes out a pink, embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and takes a whiff. Akin to the presence of the person who gave it to him, the cotton too transports him to a world of comfort. The situation, what the cloth means to him in that scenario, and the relief he feels from it, sends him a cold shiver. Now, how would you capture this feeling? In Vaazhai, we see a slow-motion close-up of his feet, letting go of the cold stone floor underneath, and clenching the wooden footrest under his desk.
This is just one of the countless moments in the film that make you ponder if cinema could, after all, make you feel the mud under your feet or the pangs of hunger on a sunny day. In a particular scene, an empath would think of the taste of wind on a parched tongue. In his most personal work yet, director Mari Selvaraj displays exceptional control over his film language.
Burdened beyond his years, a tender-hearted boy from a world far removed from contemporary cinema discourse sits at his bench in school. With the naivities of the age tussling inexplicable feelings he is suddenly brushed with, he takes out a pink, embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and takes a whiff. Akin to the presence of the person who gave it to him, the cotton too transports him to a world of comfort. The situation, what the cloth means to him in that scenario, and the relief he feels from it, sends him a cold shiver. Now, how would you capture this feeling? In Vaazhai, we see a slow-motion close-up of his feet, letting go of the cold stone floor underneath, and clenching the wooden footrest under his desk.
This is just one of the countless moments in the film that make you ponder if cinema could, after all, make you feel the mud under your feet or the pangs of hunger on a sunny day. In a particular scene, an empath would think of the taste of wind on a parched tongue. In his most personal work yet, director Mari Selvaraj displays exceptional control over his film language.
Through the three feature films and his written work, including ‘Marakkave Ninaikkiren,’ Mari has attempted to ease himself of all the pain he had been carrying. Vaazhai, a film he had wanted to make his debut with, is a tale inspired by a deep-seated trauma that had become the bedrock for who he has grown to become. This may explain the recurring elements from his previous works in Vaazhai — like the donkey in Karnanor the ‘angel’ in Pariyerum Perumal. A shot with a country-breed dog in the foreground reminds you of Karuppi from his debut film; in a long wide shot, you see a boy climbing a hill and, you think of Karnan and Maamannan.
Everything in Mari’s world of Vaazhai is meticulously-crafted from life, and at its centre is…
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