Nayanthara:
Beyond
the
Fairy
Tale
ends
up
being
a
flashy,
aspirational
celebrity
lifestyle
doc
that
is
aimed
for
an
evening
of
popcorn-fueled
fan
tribute
entertainment,
observes
Arjun
Menon.
‘First,
I’m
trying
to
prove
to
myself
that
I’m
a
person.
Then
maybe
I’ll
convince
myself
that
I’m
an
actress.’
This
infamous
quote
from
Marilyn
Monroe
crossed
my
mind
while
watching
the
new
Netflix
documentary
Nayanthara:
Beyond
the
Fairy
Tale.
The
documentary
tries
to
situate
the
industry-heralded
‘Lady
Superstar’
Nayanthara’s
strenuous
yet
inspiring
journey
to
the
top,
in
a
male-dominated
film
industry.
But
Nayanthara:
Beyond
the
Fairy
Tale
is
fighting
against
its
form
as
a
wedding
video
masquerading
as
a
considered
document
of
the
rise
to
the
fame
of
one
of
our
foremost
female
celebrities.
This
duality
doesn’t
quite
split
the
difference.
You
can
see
moments
of
genuine
introspection
and
vulnerability
undercut
by
the
glossy,
saccharine
aesthetic
that
diminishes
the
emotional
core
of
a
star’s
journey
into
a
soapy,
self-aggrandizing
glitz.
At
first,
you
see
the
actress
warming
up
to
the
prospect
of
charting
her
career
highlights
and
humble
beginnings,
and
the
interspersed
talking
heads
accentuate
the
truth
of
her
story.
Nayanthara,
at
this
portion,
seems
comfortable
enough
to
ponder
over
the
follies
and
high
points
of
her
early
career
in
a
way
that
is
grounded
in
some
sense
of
self-awareness.
Sathyan
Anthikad,
who
directed
her
Malayalam
debut
Manasinakkare
in
2003,
appears
as
a
guiding
talking
head
in
this
doc.
We
get
details
like
how
her
director
made
her
comfortable
on
sets
allowing
her
to
hang
out
with
the
cast
and
crew
and
get
a
feel
of
things,
before
shooting
her
first
scene.
These
portions
are
intercut
with
her
mother
reminiscing
about
her
college
days
and
initial
struggles
to
keep
the
early
break
from
overshadowing
an
otherwise
normal
upbringing
in
a
small
town
in
Kerala.
We
get
a
sense
of
a
college-going
girl
thrown
into
instant
stardom
within
a
short
span,
working
with
some
of
the
top
talents
in
the
industry
and
the
impact
it
had
on
her
then.
But
the
makers
don’t
want
to
dwell
too
much
on
the
most
important
facet
of
any
actor’s
repertoire,
the
‘performance’
aspect
of
her
work
and
how
she
harnessed
her
unfiltered
energy
into
parts
of
substance
against
legendary
figures
like
Sheela,
Faazil,
Sukumari,
Mohanlal
and
Jayaram
in
a
yet
nascent
career.
The
actress
too
doesn’t
seem
very
invested
in
delving
into
her
thought
process
and
conception
of
her
early
parts.
You
can
sense
them
skip
through
some
of
her
earlier
films,
as
if
in
a
hurry
to
reach
the
more
juicy
section
involving
the
‘alleged’
relationship
fallouts
and
media
controversy
that
surrounded
the
actress
in
the
beginning
of
her
career.
This
is
where
the
documentary
morphs
into
a
less
interesting,
empty
calorie,
therapy-adjacent
vehicle,
where
the
actress
is
forced
to
linger
on
uncomfortable
parts
of
her
celebrity
life
and
go
through
the
bullet
points
of
media
narratives
and
rumour-mongering
that
altered
her
public
perception
at
the
time.
Nayanthara’s
introduction
to
Tamil
cinema
is
established
as
a
grand
gesture
of
homecoming
and
you
wait
for
them
to
finally
examine
what
made
her
tick
in
a
key
role
opposite
superstar
Rajinikanth
in
the
blockbuster
Chandramukhi
(2004).
However,
in
these
moments
of
expected
grace,
the
makers
re-anchor
the
focus
of
the
documentary
into
the
tabloid
frenzy
and
hate
campaigns
that
the
actress
faced
for
no
fault
of
her
own.
The
body
shaming
she
had
to
endure
for
her
physique
during
Ghajini
(2005)
and
its
psychological
impact
on
her
is
treated
like
a
throwaway
complaint
that
is
just
tossed
out
there
and
left
untended.
You
never
get
a
sense
of
what
Nayanthara,
the
artist,
represents
to
Tamil
and
growing
regional
language
audiences.
The
attention
to
the
dramatic
flourishes
deprives
us
of
a
moment
of
great
observational
importance,
where
Anu
Vardhan,
a
popular
costume
designer
who
has
worked
frequently
with
the
actress
and
is
a
close
friend,
lets
out
a
piece
of
information
that
could
have
taken
a
better-informed
storytelling
turn
in
a
more
level
headed,
objective
celebrity
documentary
project.
She
goes
on
to
explain
how
Nayanthara
is
often
restlessness
in
her
private
life,
due
to
her
deep-rooted
insecurity
of
losing
out
on
work,
if
she
relishes
too
much
of
her
off
time
with
friends
and
family.
It’s
a
fascinating
piece
of
information
about
an
artist
that
speaks
volumes
about
the
process
and
mental
framework
that
prompts
their
work.
But,
of
course,
it
is
naive
of
me
to
even
consider
this
moment
of
revelation
to
have
any
place
in
this
glossy,
ham-fisted
outing
made
solely
to
be
a
career
highlight
reel
of
one
of
our
beloved
actors
and
her
hefty
marriage.
Nayanthara
does
address
this
aspect
of
her
insecurity
that
prompts
her
to
keep
on
working
but
it
doesn’t
go
anywhere
interesting
and
we
yet
again
move
on
abruptly
to
more
tangential
non
sequiturs.
The
sexist
establishment
looking
down
doubtfully
on
a
successful
female
star
is
fodder
enough
for
a
great
work
of
truth-telling
about
the
thinly
veiled
hierarchical
film
industry,
but
that
aspect
is
upended
by
a
corny
background
score
that
underlines
each
punchline
delivered
by
the
actress
with
little
to
no
flair
in
withholding
the
inherent
charm
of
her
rebellious
streak.
The
initial
framing
device
of
the
‘Thirupathi‘
wedding
plans
being
called
off
is
an
interesting
framing
that
comes
back
halfway
through,
but
the
overtly
fictionalised
recreation
of
a
private
conversation
between
Vignesh
Shivan
and
Nayanthara
undercuts
its
impact.
However,
Vignesh
Shivan
perfectly
understands
his
role
as
a
secondary
narrator
in
the
documentary
and
key
figure
in
her
life,
whose
self-aware
presence
sharing
his
experiences
of
meeting
her
during
the
making
of
his
first
film
Naanum
Rowdy
Dhaan
(2015)
keeps
things
interesting.
The
learned,
matter-of-camera
address
by
Nayanthara
is
directly
contrasted
with
the
less
prepared,
raw
energy
of
Vignesh,
who
seems
to
be
forming
his
thoughts
as
he
speaks
with
much
excitement
and
reverence
for
his
better
half.
Their
interactions
and
romantic
gestures
add
warmth
to
the
latter
half
of
the
documentary
though
the
focus
and
thematic
weights
get
lost
in
the
romantic
flourishes.
The
last
10
minutes
end
up
being
contrived
and
striving
too
hard
to
tie
up
all
the
loose
ends
with
the
big
climatic
wedding.
The
documentary
documents
a
woman
who
defied
all
odds
to
make
her
way
through
an
unfair
world.
This
would
have
been
a
peculiar
object
that
invested
in
the
process
and
decision-making
of
an
artist
but
the
current
one
ends
up
being
a
flashy,
aspirational
celebrity
lifestyle
doc
that
is
aimed
for
an
evening
of
popcorn-fueled
fan
tribute
entertainment,
if
nothing
else.
Nayanthara:
Beyond
the
Fairy
Tale
streams
on
Netflix.
Nayanthara:
Beyond
the
Fairy
Tale
Review
Rediff
Rating:
