Perhaps I should begin by rewinding to the conversation en route to the theater on May 31st, to the screening of Margazhi Raagam. (To be clear, this post is solely dedicated to the setting of a unique visual and aural treat and has nothing, absolutely, to do with margazhi or raagam). N, S and I agreed that bringing the traditional kutcheri to digital cinema was indeed a novel concept; we mused about the endless possibilities for improvisation that this unconventional format for presenting Carnatic music might provide; what effects might they create? Oh! what magic and dazzle might digital surround sound add to this divine art form? And so on we went...B, wearing a sage smile the whole while, kept his own counsel.
Our collective imagination soared and with it our expectations.
"My parents saw it in Madras last year and the experience was really pretty good.'
"I would've liked to see it in the Dolby labs in the city; it sounded like it would be the ideal place for such an experiment...I wonder what the Phoenix Adlabs would be like."
"Well, considering they only picked two locations to screen it at, it must be good."
"Yeah, it must."
"I mean, why would they present such a format in anything but a place with superb acoustics??"
Seriously.
"Yeah, the entire package is supposed to be pretty neat."
...
"So, where is the theater exactly?"
"On the right, a few blocks down I guess; we're still at 1600, we need to hit 1400."
"I am sure we will see it."
"I hope there is sufficient parking."
"I hope we aren't too late to find good seats."
...
"Wait, it's this one on the right!"
"Really? Do you see a parking garage?"
"No...not really."
Hmm...
...
We had arrived half an hour early, as recommended. The 'Phoenix Adlabs', we discovered, was the more ambitious name for the imagined alter ego of what's also famously known as the IMC6- India Movie Center. There was a line all right, of the much-branched chaotic sort you see in any kind of Indian congregation. They could hardly be blamed for gathering thus; the hallway just past the entrance could have barely held more than 50 people wihout some serious air circulation issues.
The canteen to the left was just coming alive as we got there; trays of samosas, bought the previous day at one of the numerous Indian grocery stores, no doubt, were being unwrappped; a coffee machine, with dust gathering on the top and rings of dried decoction in the transparent carafe stared back at us. A narrow carpet that had been worn to the point of being indistinguishable from the flooring, led the way to the main auditorium. The side walls were adorned with centerpage Filmfare poster cutouts of a pouting Kareena Kapoor and a sultry Priyanka Chopra.
Have you ever been transported in time to a place far away from just a fleeting sensation? A familiar melody perhaps, or the sight of a scooter in PA or the smell of earth as the first drops of rain fall upon it? I was. Quite violently.
Having scaled back my expectations by several notches already, I was completely unprepared for the smell that welcomed us in to the hall. I was thrown back to a summer 10 years ago, to a small dilapidated theater in Madurai, where the smell of dried cowdung patties on the outside and the pungent odour of bathrooms just cleaned out with phenol mingled freely, not to mention the various other tantalizing aromas that numb the olfactory system in an Indian summer.
As we made our way into the hall, which I might add was very nearly empty, the odour got only stronger. We realized as we sat down that this most incredible stench emanated from the seats! Oh! How wonderful that we should now be able to carry back a reminder of this experience all the way home! As I looked up to entreat the Lord, the peeling blue paint on the ceiling only filled me with more foreboding for the rest of the afternoon.
...
The auditorium started to fill up slowly. Children scurried about noisily as the ground floor of Nalli was recreated around us. That was all fine and well, until popcorn cones arrived. Now, I don't know about you, but that was just not something I had imagined along with a kutcheri. Coffee, perhaps, but popcorn and soda? This added a zing to the already heady mix of fragrances available, mind you.
A good three-quarters of an hour later, a small group gathered at a podium to the front of the hall. The gentleman, who'd served at the make-shift ticket counter, the usher, and also briefly seen behind the canteen counter, took on the mantle of well, I don't know, the compeer. He literally yelled out to us, mike and all notwithstanding, (he was excited I could tell) how it was that SIFA came to host this screening, solely for our enjoyment. After the group was done exchanging mutual admiration on a job well done, he shouted out to us to be sure to enjoy. Now that the tone had been set, we only prayed that the light bulb glaring at us from the side of the podium would be turned off.
...
For the next two hours, our ears were digitally pounded and stunned by what was to be an exciting new experiment in taking Indian classical music to the next stage. We certainly had a thing or two to recommend to the distributors for future endeavours, the most obvious being a better 'lab' at the very least.
Having said all that I must end by adding quite frankly that it was entirely to the artists' credit, singers, accompanists, cinematographers and the entire team really, that we enjoyed the music in spite of IMC. A brilliant performance all around, and a testament to the fact that despite a frightening package, the music inside had all the power to transport us to a vastly different plane and to move us as only music can...
