Kanchivaram: Silk Dreams review

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Made at a time when India's large labour force is under a frightening debt trap and suicidal mode, the film takes us back to the 1920s when the handloom silk weavers of Tamil Nadu's temple town of Kanchivaram, despite their brilliant craftsmanship, lived as bonded labourers. While the exploiting middlemen amassed huge wealth out of the weavers' art, these toiling men  barely survived, and one of the movie's early scenes shows dramatically how there is not even a piece of silk to place on the dead body of an old master worker who had produced exquisite weaves and warps all his life. The film - which will probably screen at many festivals and do reasonably good theatrical business - returns to a similar scene at the end, though far more heart wrenching this time.

The story is actually that of the master's son, Vengadam (Prakash Raj), whose desire to drape his new bride, Annam (Shreya Reddy), in silken finery remains unfulfilled. Narrated stylistically in a series of flashbacks that take us from a bus transporting Vengadam, now a convict on a two-day parole, to his joyous times in Kanchivaram that see him sire a daughter, Thamarai (Shammu), and build castles of silk yarn in the air. Not quite so, for he manages to steal tiny balls of silk thread from the factory he works to weave a sari for Thamarai, hoping to dress her up for her wedding.

In the meantime, Vengadam and a few of his friends come under the spell of a Communist leader, whose ideology for the harassed and humiliated weavers spells magic. They strike work asking for better wages and humane treatment, but the middlemen and the handloom owners remain unmoved, their stand ultimately pushing Vengadam to seek a reckless way to complete his daughter's sari.

The tragedy of Vengadam's life emphatically underlines the poverty and wretchedness of a clan whose talent produced some of the finest saris, intricately designed in silk and embellished with gold thread, and this has been captured through the excellent performance of Prakash Raj, probably his best till date, and a visually arresting treatment of the subject. Vengadam's broken spectacle lens seen on his torturous bus ride in blinding rain reflects a life shattered, and the grey sky, the anguish of a man who dared to dream of silk.

Priyadarshan, often termed a master of remakes (of American and Indian movies, including "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"), has surprised us with "Kanchivaram", its original story and period detailing adding to the film's authentic feel. Watch, for instance, the sign on the rickety bus that uses the old British spelling for Kanchivaram (Conjeevaram) and the real landscape of the 1940s India, sparse and almost serene. The often doleful musical notes heighten not just the misfortune of the weavers, but also the sense of distress.

first published in The Hollywood Reporter