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RAVI VARMAN ISC•PONNNIYIN SELVAN: PART I
MAKING TRACKS
By Natasha Block Hicks
If you were to listen to Ravi Varman ISC narrating the story about an orphaned boy from a rural farming community in India, who goes from loitering on the streets of Chennai to receiving the highest award for an artist given by the government of Tamil Nadu, you might be forgiven for thinking he was describing the plotline of one of his many movies.
But this is Varman’s own story as the writer, poet and celebrated DP relates via Zoom from Chennai, at the time that his latest movie – the multi-million-dollar Ponniyin Selvan: Part One (2022, dir. Mani Ratnam) – gears up for its worldwide theatrical release.
“Life is not just something we live, life is something that teaches us,” relates Varman emotionally, recalling his childhood. “After my mother died, I had nothing left.”
The destabilisation of the family had begun years before with the alcoholism and death of Varman’s father, upon which his widow and four children, Varman being the youngest, were gradually stripped of their home and assets. When a fever claimed his mother, 13-year-old Varman crumbled.
“I was in the seventh standard at school,” he recalls, “but after that, I couldn’t study anymore.”
After six months mentally adrift, Varman travelled to the nearby town of Thanjavur, where he stood on the rail tracks, waiting for oblivion. His suicidal plan was thwarted when he was caught by the transport police and charged with travelling on a train without a ticket. He was held for 15 days in an adult jail.
“I had no knowledge about the police procedures, which enraged them,” relates Varman. “They asked me to strip which I refused. I was beaten so badly that I couldn’t wear my clothes or sleep for the next three days, due to the wounds.”
Once released, he was – in the eyes of his village – tarnished by the jail-time, innocent or otherwise. He felt his only option was to leave his hometown.
“The irony is that I reached Chennai by hiding in the train bathroom for 350 kilometers, without a ticket,” relates Varman. “I wasn’t guilty when they charged me, but afterwards I had to do it anyway to escape.”
The one person he knew in the big city – a friend of his father – welcomed Varman into his home, but viewed him as a resource to exploit. When faced with the choice to stay and provide free labour, or try his luck in the streets, Varman chose the streets.
Genuine help finally arrived in the form of a kind stranger and a paid position in a hotel, which came with shelter and food. Having money in his pocket for the first time, Varman visited Chennai’s Burma Bazaar, “the smugglers market” as he describes it, where he came across a stall selling cameras. Photographs had been a rarity in his village, however Varman did possess one snapshot of his mother, captured accidentally in the background of a wedding celebration, which he only acquired six months after she passed away.
“That’s the only image I have of her,” Varman relates. “In time I came to learn the terms ‘out-of focus’ and ‘silhouette’”.
After striking a bargain with the generous stallholder, Varman owned a camera for the first time. Teaching himself from books, first with still photographs shot on film sourced from the Burma Bazaar, and then with the moving image, Varman started to make his way in the art of wielding light.
In 2001, Varman received a Best Cinematographer Award at the 23rd Three Continents Festival in Nantes, France, for his second movie Calmness/Shantham (2000, dir. Jayaraaj), which was shot using lights that he had fabricated himself.
“That film changed my life,” he relates, “after that, I got lot of recognition.”
Starting out in films shot predominantly in Malayalam and Tamil – his mother tongue – Varman diversified into Hindi and Telugu Cinema. In his first decade as a DP he shot over 15 movies, working with renowned directors such as S Shankar on Anniyan (2005) and Gautham Vasudev Menon on Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu (2006), which fetched him Best Cinematographer at the 2006 Tamil Nadu State Film Awards. Varman also gained international attention working with British-Tamil hip-hop artist M.I.A on her music video Bird Flu (2006).
“My work in all my films was appreciated by many,” states Varman, “but the one film that changed my life was Barfi!.”
Disney-UTV produced Barfi! (2012 dir. Anurag Basu) is a whimsical Hindi-language tragicomedy that shares some of its DNA with the lighter films of Jean-Pierre Jeunet, as well as the slapstick silent movies of Buster Keaton.
“They wanted it stylistically to be like an international film,” relates Varman. “The director, Anurag Basu, said to me, “However you want, you can do it”. I was very interested in utilising glare and flare. When I was an assistant, I would hear directors shouting, ‘Glare, cut the glare!’ but I wondered to myself, why not use it as a subject?”
Varman went to town with Barfi!, with direct and reflected sunlight and source lights blowing out parts of some frames, and heavy shadowing and silhouettes employed frequently throughout.
“Then, all the biggest directors in India were calling to work with me,” he laughs.
This included Sanjay Leela Bhansali, who sought out Varman’s creativity on Romeo And Juliet adaptation Ram-Leela (2013), for which Varman used the paintings of Rembrandt as a visual reference. In Tamasha (2015, dir Imtiaz Ali), the candle-source cinematography of Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon (1975, DP John Alcott) was an inspiration, and when Basu called Varman up again for the romantic adventure Jagga Jasoos (2017), the DP created a cinematic place where comic books meet the films of Wes Anderson.
After Ram-Leela was released, Varman received a call from director Mani Ratnam, a director whom he had long admired from afar, inviting him to lens Kaatru Veliyidai (2017). Varman’s cinematography of that romantic drama, set during the Kargil War of 1999, garnered several national film festival accolades.
For many years, Ratnam had been trying to produce a filmic adaptation of the historical fiction novel by Kalki Krishnamurthy, Ponniyin Selvan, which imagines the early days of the ancient Chola Dynasty. In 2019 it was
announced that he had finally achieved this dream, with Varman lined-up for their second collaboration. Split into two full-length movies, Ratnam’s interpretation of the cult book is epic in subject, scope and budget.
“I had the opportunity to make Ponniyin Selvan really interesting,” says Varman enthusiastically.
Varman was strongly committed to maximising natural lighting for the project, using candles for interior scenes and sunlight where possible. He often had to sacrifice sleep to get the lighting set-ups ready in advance for a packed day’s shooting.
“I like natural light,” Varman confides, “and in the big palace scenes, we only used the sun.” He preferred to utilise a solitary skimmer for external shots, avoiding reflectors which tended to make the various skin tones of the cast overly shiny.
“I also wanted contrast,” he continues, “in every frame there will be some darkness.”
Much of Ponniyin Selvan: Part One was shot handheld, with Varman shouldering an unusual double-camera arrangement which he rigged himself: an ARRI Alexa XT and Alexa Mini, one with a wide-view lens and the other on tight, using Cooke S4 prime lenses and occasionally an Angénieux Optimo Zoom. Shots from camera moving gear, such as Panther jib and crane, were given a bit of shake, to match them with the handheld style.
“I try to match the consistency in every movement,” confides Varman, “but, I don’t want everything perfect. Perfect is plastic. In the battle sequences I tried something interesting. A large proportion were shot with the handheld zoom, which is very technical. You match the action with the same kind of rhythm and momentum in the zoom. That was the hardest part of shooting Ponniyin Selvan.”
The day before this interview, Varman’s final post-production session, he says watched Ponniyin Selvan: Part One for the last time in silence, with the audio turned-off.
“Once the sound is added, it can shift things; I can see my mistakes,” divulges Varman. For this reason, he never watches his films in the theatre with the music and dialogue, and is physically absent from their premieres by default.
Though he is one of India’s most successful and highly-sought-after cinematographers, Varman is restless, yearning to continue experimenting and pushing boundaries.
“I can tell you honestly, I am never satisfied with the work I have done,” he says frankly, “I want to keep moving. I would like to find an international project, through which I can explore further.”
Varman remains philosophical about his tough childhood.
“If I look back, it’s to remember that now is a better space,” he rationalises. “Everyone has an amazing brain; we can overcome our circumstances.”
I would like to find an international project
