‘Navarasa’…A pretty decent anthology with a few standout episodes, but overall tepid and suffers from the need to explain itself.

Spoilers Ahead…

Since Netflix’s foray into Indian waters in 2016, it has heavily invested in anthologies (Lust Stories, Ghost Stories, Ajeeb Daastaans, Paava Kadhaigal to name a few), and it isn’t difficult to see why.
The idea in itself is thrilling — assembling an array of writers, directors, cinematographers, actors under one umbrella, to create something new. It forges new collaborations and the short runtimes are ideal for experimenting with and presenting unconventional themes and stories.

For these very reasons, it was impossible to ignore Navarasa. It had a star-studded cast and crew, a foot-tapping album, and was presented by none other than Mani Ratnam. All and any excitement was an understatement.
And that’s why, it’s generic-ness (word borrowed from Baradwaj Ranjan’s review of this series) was unexpected.

The acting, music, cinematography are all as usual impressive, but with such big names, in front of and behind the camera , you except to be blown away. You except something ground breaking, that pushes the envelope, just like what the actors and directors did with their feature film counterparts. But what we get isn’t thematically or technically much different from their earlier works, like Gautham Menon presenting an urban love story or Priyadarshan, a slapstick comedy.

One aspect that I felt really thwarted the series, was its need to verbalize its endings. Each episode revolves around one emotion (Navarasa — nine emotions, nine stories), and a title card at the beginning of each episode tells you which one. So then, why have characters verbalise and explain their state of mind, when the title card and the lead up to a powerful climatic sequence has already conveyed that very thing?

For example in Karthik Subbaraj’s Shaantha, (which portrayed peace unironically in a war zone), there is a powerful moment where Nilavan (Bobby Simha) holds the rescued puppy up, to show the Sri Lankan army (who are on the opposite side of the forest) his reason for crossing the defence line, in hopes of stopping the firing. It is a tense moment, as we (and Nilavan) are unsure whether they would concede to the request, but when he walks back to his bunker safely, the message is loud and clear. Then why make Nilavan verbalize that very moment, soon after?
The same was also with Arvind Swamy’s Rowthiram, an overall fantastic short, but still spells out the moment after a clever twist conveys the same.

Maybe, if we weren’t shown which emotion the episode was based on, these moments could have worked, as, one of the advantages of a short film is their open-endedness, which leaves you with more questions than answers and it is up to us, to fill in the gaps. But, by including both the title card and the exposition, the theme/message felt repetitive.

Similar to most reviews on the internet, I will be sharing my (very short) thoughts on each episode, ranking them from my least favourite to my most.
Additionally, here are two reviews (1, 2) which mirror my thoughts about the series, with the latter, pointing out themes and tropes that I had completely missed.

Summer of ’92 — Haasya (Laughter)
The main plot point of this short felt contrived, and I just didn’t get what was the story trying to say? Was it reminiscing about school days? Or how your grades don’t necessarily determine your success? Or that shit happens, sometimes literally? Whatever it was, I didn’t laugh even once.

Thunindha Pinn — Veera (Valour/Courage)
Written by Mani Ratnam, this short contains echos of Roja, with a wife trying to find her husband after he is deemed to be missing after an anti-Naxal operation. But, the focus here is instead on the solider (played by Atharvaa) and his journey with the captured Naxal leader (played by Kishore). A standard conversational exchange between two people on opposing sides and opposing ideologies, the short is neither exciting nor provides any food for thought. Associating courage with a solider is rather straightforward, but I liked that the emotion was extended to his wife (played by Anjali) as well, who gathered courage to never stop hoping for his return.

Peace — Shaantha (Peace)
I have already mentioned what didn’t work for me in the short, but nevertheless, it was a well shot episode, though the Sri Lankan Tamil accents were a bit wobbly.

Project Agni — Adbhutha (Wonder)
Despite my general lack of interest in sci-fi, I found this short pretty intriguing. I loved the addition of Indian mythology into the mix, though the names of the characters were a little too on the nose.

Edhiri — Karuna (Compassion)
The conversation between Dheena (Vijay Sethupathi) and Sivaraman (Prakash Raj) in the pouring courtyard and later Dheena’s conversation with Savithri (Revathi) at the end, is a testament to the fact that even an okay-ish story can come alive when performed by great actors.

Guitar Kambi Mele Nindru — Shringaara (Romance)
I am a sucker for Gautam Menon’s brand of romance, so it’s no surprise that I quite enjoyed this short. Suriya and Prayaga Martin had great chemistry, the music was amazing, and though a tad bit overlong, it was an enjoyable tale of urban love.

Rowthiram — Raudra (Anger)
This one was a surprise, because for the first ten minutes or so, I was a little lost on what was happening. But once the story kicks into gear, it is an engaging watch. Arvind Swamy fleshes out the characters, their relationships, their circumstances with depth and portrays the number of ways the titular anger can manifest in different people in different forms and have vastly different outcomes. The story is supported by Santosh Sivan’s perceptive cinematography and a melancholic background score by A.R. Rahman.

Inmai—Bhayaanaka (Fear)
What seems like an onset of a forbidden love story, soon turns into a tale of greed and betrayal, with fear being the emotion that fuels Wahida’s (an excellent Parvathy Thiruvothu) subsequent religious activities and her demise. The execution of the twist was brilliant, and it was a story that kept me thinking, even after I finished watching it.

Payasam — Bibhatsa (Disgust)
Without the use of any flashbacks, Payasam establishes Samanadhu’s (Delhi Ganesh) family history and dynamics by alternating between his thoughts and an ongoing wedding. It’s a simple approach, setting the story amidst one event, but it works wonder and with cinematographer, Sathyan Sooryan, beautifully capturing the atmosphere and ambience of the wedding, it stands in stark contrast to Samanadhu’s feelings of jealousy. Like most short, the titular emotion only reveals itself at the climax, but Payasam is clever enough to leave us with it.