In 2013, I watched the first Vishwaroopam film at Sathyam Cinemas in Chennai. It had been running for a few weeks then, and still received resounding applause from the audience for the ‘Unnai Kaanadhu‘ song – and the scene in which Kamal transforms: from the guileless Vishwanath to Wiz aka Wasim. Naturally, I was curious to see if the sequel, or the prequel-sequel as Kamal called it, would live up to the original.
Yesterday – a gloomy Friday in Bengaluru – I made my way to Amruth Theatre in Lingarajapura to catch the second part.
Amruth Theatre looks a little careworn. Stale smoke pervades the room and the audience is predominantly male – over 40 years old. A lone woman occupies one of the balcony seats. She has brought her toddler son with her. As the screen opens, a man in front diligently announces via text that his business is shut for the day.
My friend then comments that Kamal’s films never have the same opening that Rajini’s films get.
“I watched Sivaji at this very theatre,” he says, “I bought a ticket and yet I did not get a seat. The crowd is uncontrollable.”
I urge him to wait.
As soon as the familiar Vishwaroopam theme begins to play, the crowd roars. They get on their feet. They cheer. Much of what happens in the first few minutes of the movie is drowned in their whistles. I expect a rain of samosas and popcorn. Thankfully, it is not to be.
Nonetheless, this display of adoration from sleepy Bengaluru is heartening.
Vishwaroopam 2 is not one of those punchy commercial potboilers stuffed to the brim with mass dialogues. It has its moments, though. Like when Kamal remarks, “I am a goddamn soldier-turned-espionage agent, damn it.” The crowd goes wild. Every time their aandavar says something in that faux English accent of his, they get excited. They like it when Kamal gives it back to the British. Seventy plus years of Independence and yet, here we are – cheering on that Indian man who takes an English cop to task. Curiously, even Kamal’s meticulous rendition of a jaati seems to get them excited.
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‘Apdi sollunga thalaiva!” a man in a skull cap roars.
The slow ‘Naanagiya Nadhimoolamae‘ evokes an emotional response. No one goes out for a smoke break. They watch in awe; the song captures the emotional bond between Wisam and his mother.
Soon, he kisses Pooja Kumar and there are loud cheers. Someone hints at his romantic past.
The applause continues through the daring stunts that the actor executes – and of course, he saves the day.
‘Chennai la paartha epdi irukkumle,‘ a young man whispers to his neighbour.
That rainy morning however, Lingarajapura could have very well been in Chennai, for the Azhwarpettai Andavar seemed to have added yet another area to his jurisdiction.
*****