Ponniyin Selvan 2 review: Mani Ratnam finally takes some creative liberty and it works

In the age of green screens and visual effects, Ponniyin Selvan is one of the biggest achievements in Tamil cinema because it strives to be real. The film opens with a mesmerizing prologue, a flashback to Aditha Karikalan (Vikram) and Nandini’s (Aishwarya Rai) teen years. This scene needs imagination, and Mani Ratnam has that in oodles. The director makes you believe that Nandini and Karikalan must have met just like this. She would, of course, have walked past him at the riverbank with that arduous smile, while he was seated on the horse, smirking. It all happened. Good cinema makes you believe it. You can’t get there only by grand sets and CGI, and Mani Ratnam knows that. He wins you over by setting the film in such exotic locations and makes you buy his imagination of Chola Desam. It might not be true, but truth is not the only point of art.

After showing what happened to Nandini, the film resumes the story of Arulmozhi Varman. After being rescued by Oomai Rani from the ocean, he is now severely ill. Vallavarayan Vandhiyadhevan (Karthi) and Poonguzhali (Aishwarya Lekshmi) decide to take him to a Buddhist monastery, where he can be cured. Meanwhile, Nandini along with Pandians decides to kill Sundara Cholar (Prakash Raj) and Aditha Karikalan on the same day. She invites Aditha Karikalan to Kadambur Fort on the pretext of cutting a deal with Madhurandhagan (Rahman), who has formed a rebellion claiming the throne of the Chola kingdom.

Learning about the plans, Vandhiyadhevan passes on the message to his beloved Kundhavai (Trisha) in another mind-blowing sequence. Tamil cinema seems to have forgotten how to show great moments of love, and the ace filmmaker reminds us what can be done with just a few close-up shots and short dialogues. Of course, one also needs AR Rahman to complement it. Vandhiyadhevan is blindfolded and put on a tiny island. Kundhavai interrogates (or should I say plays?) him. She slowly circles him and bothers him with a sword. Vandhiyadhevan cannot see his captor, but he knows. This is all foreplay sans kisses and touches. Still, it makes up for the most tantalizing moment in recent Tamil cinema.

Sadly, we don’t get more romance from this couple, which feels as breezy as the song Aga Naga. However, we are thrown into the deep end of the storm of passion between Nandini and Kariakalan. It is fierce, deadly, and the textbook definition of toxicity. It might be strange that both Ponniyin Selvan books and films spend more time on this love affair than the titular character. However, it makes sense because if Aditha Karikalan heeded Nandini’s plea and spared Veerapandiayan, he wouldn’t be carrying the guilt that kills him from within. He would have been sane enough to rule the kingdom. After all, he is the Pattathu Ilavarasan (Prince). If not for his complex love, there is no drama and no Ponniyin Selvan.

Aditha Karikalan, even after knowing about the ploy of Nandini, goes to Kadambur fort for a final showdown with the only love of his life. Vikram and Aishwarya bring about all the complexities of this strange relationship, which is a dangerous cocktail of passion and vengeance. Here are two people who have brought out the worst in each other all their lives and are still unable to hate each other. The scene is perhaps the crescendo of Ponniyin Selvan 2. The flashes of Aishwarya screaming and lit by lightning is a sight that does perfect justice to the end of the most formidable and enigmatic character of Ponniyin Selvan.

Indeed, there are shortcomings in the film. It is hard to fathom how someone who hasn’t read the book will follow the story. Ponniyin Selvan doesn’t have a conventional film structure because, with so many branching storylines, it can’t. It is not just about Ponniyin Selvan. It is also about Aditha Karikalan, and it is also about Vandhiyadhevan. The structure ends up being messy and hard to catch up with. However, look at how brilliantly Mani Ratnam achieves the essence of each character with a few short scenes, which are not even part of the book. Look at how Ponniyin Selvan deals with the ploy to kill him in the Buddhist monastery. It is his righteousness and unwavering moral code. He is not a fierce fighter like his brother Aditha Karikalan, but he is a leader, who knows the right course of action at every instance. That is far more heroic than the sword-fighting, and that’s why Mani Ratnam makes Arulmozhi Varaman’s depiction restrained because that’s his essence.

The end is shockingly different from the books, and that is going to be one of the scathing criticisms against the film from the purists. Along with it, the complaints will also be about the underrepresentation of beloved characters like Poongukuzahli and Vaanathi. That’s the cost of translation. That’s the cost Mani has paid for being true to his craft. It will take another minute for someone to arise from Tamil cinema to make perhaps a series that would do more justice to the sprawling novel, but till then we have Mani Ratnam’s Ponniyin Selvan.