Mumbai Police: a lesson in story mechanics.

I'm a real admirer of breaking up chronological order in story-telling. At times it may feel like a cheap gimmick to employ when one's story is not that intriguing to begin with, but sometimes it really draws the best out of a simple story, and when it comes to movies, it's a very interesting way to allow the audience to play a detective, piecing together the story as it slowly gets revealed to us, and to give your actors something to work with. They can play with what to show and what not to show the audience, and all the interesting facets of a character, being revealed slowly over time, all of this can not only help a story but make a story stand out.

Modern Malayalam films seem to love to do this. You set up a story where the subject of the mystery gets peeled back like an onion, layer by layer, in form of flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks. Luckily, Malayalam cinema seems to also have plenty of capable film makers able to hold these narratives together in a coherent manner.

Mumbai Police (2013) got such rave reviews that even I, who barely knows what's happening in Kerala in terms of cinema, heard about it. Prithviraj plays Antony Moses, a detective who gets into a car accident and loses much of his recent memory. More's the pity, as he had just figured out who killed fellow officer Aaryan (Jayasurya), and must now keep his memory loss a secret from everybody apart from brother-in-law and senior officer Farhan (Rahman), while piecing together the case from scratch, to reach his previous conclusion about the killer.

The real triumph of the film is simply the steady, gripping pace with which it lays out the mystery, and all its components. We don't quite know Antony, because he doesn't quite know himself - he's alien even to himself due to the memory loss, and so every reaction to him is new to us as much as it is to him. Rahman's performance simultaneously reflects everything and nothing all at once, and Jayasurya's performance as the affable Aaryan completes the trio of stellar performances. The only real problem with the film - apart from some slightly spoilerous niggles I might have about it - is the fact that I don't know if such an intense story that relies heavily on the slow reveal would stand up many a rewatch. With that said, I absolutely must see it a second time.  

Red Salute Blogfest: Thalappavu.

I meant to post about this film on May 1st, to kick off Red Salute Blogfest, but got lazy - in fact, I've been so lazy I've still got plenty of films that I meant to review to actually see. Therefore I'm dedicating the first half of May to this thing, possibly even longer.

Thalappavu is a 2008 Malayalam drama about a real incident between a Kerala Naxalite (played by Prithviraj) and a police officer (Lal). In the 1970's, the police held a Naxalite in captivity and then arranged a 'fake encounter', essentially an extra-judicial killing, or simply put, murder. The officer who held the gun apparently knew the Naxalite (I think the officer later disclosed this at an interview). The film works in flashback, beginning from the shooting and telling, little by little, the story of these two men.

In the very few Malayalam films I've seen so far, I see a theme of flashback narratives emerging. A central device in how the story is told is constantly with-holding some information from the viewer - we find out answers to our questions, but we have to wait for them to emerge. The story here is at heart quite simple, but the narrative device keeps the audience hooked, and this really serves the film. At times, I may have struggled to follow a little - essentially, there are at least three time-lines we work in, and it can take a while to understand which one the film is at and at which point it switches. Still, it makes the film very interesting. I can't say I was ever bored, which might've happened, had the director taken a more conventional approach to telling his story.

As far as the portrayal of Naxalites go, it's very positive. Joseph (Prithviraj) is a sympathetic, smart individual, who's prone to violence but for a good cause. Contrast this with the police, who are cruel and exceptionally corrupt. The sole good cop is Raveendran Pillai, the cop who befriends Joseph, but even he can be talked into dirty deeds by the other police man. It strikes me as somewhat simplistic to portray the Naxalite in such a positive manner, but on the other hand, this man died because of a horrible, sad and undemocratic practise by the cops. Perhaps it's fitting that regardless of his crimes (which he wasn't found guilty of, because of this fake encounter) he gets a salute by the filmed version of his life.

I confess I don't know all that much about Kerala's vast Marxist history - I just know there is one, and that Marxist thinking seems fairly mainstream in the state's politics. What impact it has left on the state as a whole, I couldn't analyse. What it did made me think was the fact that the term "Naxalite" lumps in a rather vast amount of people. The 1970's Kerala Naxalites were probably different from West Bengal 1970's Naxalites, and the current crop of Naxalites is a vastly different group, as well, in terms of both composition, ideology and goals. I haven't seen enough films to know whether all of these groups are labelled more-or-less as heroes or as villains, or neither, but so far I have a sense that it's easier to portray them as anti-establishment/pro-people heroes, than as villains.

Still, I enjoyed Thalappavu, for it's clever narrative device and its lush cinematography. It didn't become an instant favourite, but I'll probably be rewatching it. Atul Kulkarni does a brilliant turn as the film's villain, Lal was very effective in his role and I didn't mind Prithviraj, either. I've watched two other Prithviraj films that I have to post about eventually, so I'll discuss him more as an actor in that post. Suffice to say at this point, he's not really a favourite of mine, which is a shame. I really wanted to like him, a lot, after the brilliance of Aiyyaa. Sadly, I've been left rather lukewarm, even based on what I think are labelled his better films. 

22 Female Kottayam - a conversation starter.

22 Female Kottayam, a Malayalam revenge film from last year, is an unsettling watch. It takes explicitly admitted inspiration from other female revenge films of yesteryear, such as Kill Bill and Ek Hasina Thi, but pushes the concept a tiny bit further. 

As such, both the film and this spoilerous review have to be warned for discussion of rape, violence and sexual abuse. If you don't feel like you can stomach it, I won't be offended if you click away now.

Let's proceed. 

If I was just to talk about the film as a film, without taking into consideration all the things that affected my viewing of it - which I will shortly get to - I'd say this: Rima Kallingal does a splendid job as the lead, as do the other actors in the film. The narrative jumps, that seem to be quite common in modern Malayalam cinema, based on my little experience of it so far, work well and the pace never lets up. The cinematography is beautiful but grounded, and while I didn't feel that all the songs featured were necessary, they were enjoyable in the mix. 

As recent events brought the topic of rape into a national conversation in India (and subsequently elsewhere, as people in other corners of the globe rushed to point out to people that rape was far from being just an Indian problem), I feel as if I have to discuss the film through the lens of its rape depiction. How we talk about rape matters, especially when the conversation quite often contains widely-perpetuated myths about this crime. 

The first myth is that rape only happens to lone women who are out late and get attacked by strangers. This is not the case in the film. Tessa is raped by somebody she knows, and trusts, though he is not a family member or a close friend. 

The actual depiction of the rape is uncomfortable and unsettling, putting the audience in the position of Tessa. As rape tends to be a gendered crime, with women more often than victims than perpetrators, it's obvious that it will hit home more for some viewers than others. Regardless, it's a punch in the gut - there is nothing sexualized, romanticized or sanitized about the scene. It's as ugly, painful and brutal as the crime is. 

The second rape myth is that rape is about sex. We see this unfortunate myth somewhat tied to the rape in 22FK - the rapist asks Tessa to have sex with him, with the clear indication that he is not taking 'no' for an answer. Later on, in her revenge, Tessa performs an act designed to remove virility from her boyfriend who schemed against her. Let's just make this clear: rape is about power and domination. It's about using your power to take advantage and abuse somebody else. Whatever sexual excitement the rapist feels during the act comes through this abuse of power, the use of somebody weaker than them against the victim's will. This was my biggest problem with the film. Since an impotent person can rape, as penetration doesn't have to happen through a sexual organ, the revenge Tessa takes on her ex-boyfriend is questionable. On the other hand, he betrayed her trust but didn't physically abuse her himself - though what he did was just as sickening, to be honest.

The third rape myth is that rape can be the fault of the victim. This is sadly probably the most common myth, seen perpetuated by people in the media and others in daily conversations about rape survivors (or victims), in the case of the Delhi bus gang rape and others. Discussions about the clothing and behaviour of the victim feed the myth, and are essentially ways of limiting women and their choices in life - don't go there, don't wear that, don't do this or you're "inviting" rape. The fault of every crime, however, is on the perpetrator. They make the decision to abuse somebody, they do the crime and therefore the fault is theirs and theirs only. Since rape is primarily about power, they will obviously take advantage of somebody who they see as weaker, and that person may be drunk or asleep or alone, but there isn't a single situation where having sex with somebody who doesn't want it (or who is not in the position to want it, such as being heavily intoxicated) is okay. It's always rape, and rape is a crime. Thankfully the film does not perpetuate this vicious myth, though I don't see how it could - the narrative of "she deserved it" has no place in a film that puts the agency of the heroine first.

However, as it stands, 22FK really made me ponder my general stance on female revenge films that deal with rape, and how my position has shifted over the years. Ek Hasina Thi definitely remains a favourite of mine, but in Sarika was not sexually abused, she was just taken advantage of in an extreme way. In EHT, the revenge is definitely cathartic and desired by the viewer. In Kill Bill  the crime is horrifying but not rape and the film's obvious inspiration, the Japanese film Lady Snowblood (Shurayukihime), has the heroine revenge the rape and murder of her mother, not herself. I guess the crux of the problem is that rape becomes a plot device that pushes the heroine to go to extreme lengths to get her revenge. This is why I Spit On Your Grave, the original of the genre of rape revenge films, has a very questionable position - there can be something cathartic about showing a rape survivor take revenge on her rapists, but it's also messed up that the female lead has to suffer through this horrible crime in order to get that agency in the film.

On the other hand, I feel that if you put your central female character through the amount of injustice that these films contain, it only makes sense to have them bring a world of pain onto those who have wronged her (while it's not the way I'd sort things out in real life, in the fictional world it makes thematic sense). This is why I wish Ishaqzaade had taken a drastically different turn on the second half. So I guess my position is that if you must portray these sorts of stories, then it's good that the female characters get to avenge whatever wrongs they've endured - much like many male characters get in other revenge tales. However, it would also be good if for once, the female character didn't personally have to suffer so much in order to play this part in a film - especially such a personal violation as rape.

22 Female Kottayam is a good film, but it's not one I'd easily recommend, or rewatch myself. It contains some good performances, a realistic portrayal of a heavy subject matter, and a somewhat cathartic conclusion in terms of the revenge, but I'm not sure it offers anything so new or in such a novel way that it would be a must-see for everybody. It definitely fits a certain genre, and there are films that aren't quite as unsettling or as partly problematic as this one. Therefore I have pretty ambivalent feelings about it - I'm glad I saw it, but I'm not sure I'd have missed out on a lot, had I not seen it. 

Story first: Traffic, a Malayalam gem.

Even from the outside, looking in, before I'd seen a single Malayalam film, I had a strong sense of their character. Despite not being the most prolific Southie regional film industry, nor the one bursting with the biggest budgets or the most recognisable stars (while Mammootty and Mohanlal are known outside Kerala, too, I would rate Hindi stars or Rajnikanth above them in pan-Indian recognition), Malayalam films had the reputation of having good stories. Why else would the other industries borrow from them so much? It seemed like fresh ideas and interesting characters in solid stories was Malayalam industry's USP - unique selling point.

Of course, not every film can be amazing, so the generalisation is never without exception, but I have to admit that my blind purchase of the 2011 film Traffic hit jackpot - it crafts something marvelous and character-focused out of a rather simple premise, and through slow reveal, keeps its viewer constantly on the edge of their seat.

The film, directed by Rajesh Pillai, introduces us to its rather varied, big cast of characters, all going through the inevitable grief of ordinary life: traffic. The introduction lasts as long as need be, and once you're settled into the world of these characters, the first big event occurs - an traffic accident that touches them all, one way or another, through the course of the film. There is the central character of a police officer, marred by corruption allegations (Sreenivasan). There's the famous actor, realising his family life is less than the ideal (Rahman). Abel (Kunchacko Boban), a surgeon listening to his best friend flirt with a girl on the phone. A young journalist (Vineeth Sreenivasan), on his way to his first job.

To say too much about the plot would be to ruin it. Even if you never decide to seek out this film itself, you might be able to catch its Tamil and/or Hindi remake in the near-future, and I wouldn't want to spoil you the biggest twist of the film, which makes the plot considerably more interesting.

The best thing about Traffic, I think, is the way it doesn't even try to reach for the stars, or aim for an epic scale. It's story is told simply, but through interesting choices, and cleverly not revealing everything to the viewer at once, the simplicity comes into full bloom. The performances all around support the story, and it's difficult to pick who are the best ones; Sreenivasan is mostly in focus, but all the others seem to do great as well. There are only a couple of songs, but they provide perfect little lulls to an otherwise intense story. 

If you have a way to get a hold of Traffic, I would recommend it - if you have to wait for the inevitable remakes, so be it, I'm certainly waiting eagerly myself. It's a positive surprise that certainly confirmed all the positive stereotypes I had about Malayalam films as character-driven, story-driven solid films, and I hope to catch other Malayalam films as good as this one. 

Pinnilavu - dipping my toe into Malayalam waters..

There are moments when you realise how overwhelmingly vast this simple thing called "Indian film industry" is. I've seen around 50 Tamil films and consider myself a fan of them, but those 50 films are not enough to cover any sort of range where I'd recognise all the key players - in those relative terms, I'm still very much a newbie. Hindi films are a ground which I've mastered walking on by now; I know stars both past and present and even though I've got gaps in my knowledge, I'm relatively well-versed by now.

To jump into Malayalam films, which I mostly know through the Hindi remakes, was not scary, though. I considered it more a great opportunity, and I am eternally grateful that I know somebody in my own home town who can borrow me some of her DVD's. Sadly, this friend (let's call her Stimpy by her online pseudonym) was still going through a move and didn't yet have her DVD collection in order, so I ended up taking home a rather random selection of Malayalam films, rather than just films she would've recommended.

So it happened that my first 'commercial' Malayalam film was Pinnilavu (1983), a family drama starring Mammootty as the wayward son of Madhu. 

To see Mallu films' biggest star in his young, still fit-looking avatar, was quite interesting. However, I subsequently discovered that the Golden Age of Malayalam cinema only began in 1984 or so - clearly this film was not a classic, and it showed. The role Mammootty plays is rather simplistic. The son, Unni, enters medical school and starts hanging out with the wrong crowd, who use their money to get alcohol, lounge around reading dirty books and magazines, and playing cards. The father obviously disapproves of this, as does Unni's beloved, played by Poornima Jayaram. That's about the extent of the plot.

The problem I found with the film was precisely the simplicity of this central dilemma. The actions of Unni and the disapproval from his father are so downright understandable - they're not just your typical generational misunderstandings. Unni neglects his studies, rather than just having fun in the way that university students normally have fun amongst themselves, and behaves very disrespectfully in all accounts. The lack of greys here really does the story a disservice.

Mohanlal's role as the leader of this gang of young men living irresponsibly is smaller, and not too important; I suppose this was from his period of playing mostly negative characters. He gets to dance in a song sequence, with immoral drinking! Terrible!

There aren't too many songs in the film, but the first one is a legend in and of itself; it is the only song where Mammootty dances! And oh dear oh dear, what moves he possesses:

The elbow dance!

This is the gif you'll want to save, and savour. (You're welcome.)

This is perfection. 

(Note: I do not post these to mock the man. He's obviously a popular actor well worth his reputation. I can understand why he chose not to dance in later movies .. and obviously most of the blame lies with the choreographer. Sometimes all dance, no matter how lacking in skill, can be enjoyable. So I absolutely cherish this number!)

Pinnilavu certainly ended up an underwhelming film experience, but of course, I'm going to keep watching Malayalam films. I want to see a decent amount - maybe something will catch my interest further than just this academic interest in discovering a regional industry, its tropes, styles and stories. I believe my taste is pretty similar to that of my friend's, so when I get to see some of her favourites, I'll probably know whether I am into Mallu films on the whole or whether Tamil remains my favourite Southie industry.

One thing I did notice was the relative smallness of this industry. It's clear that it's not big in terms of budgets or even story - Pinnilavu was a small story about family, no sweeping epic. The locations were also limited and seemed very ordinary, in a sense. 

And yes, while Mammootty and Mohanlal do conform to the stereotype of Southie heroes being older and pudgy, unlike the handsome, often physically fit Hindi heroes, I am over this prejudice. In the end, what matters is the acting, and whether they impress me with that. Hopefully, in the future, they or other Malayalam actors do!

I'm not sure why I uploaded this screencap of a shirtless Mammootty but I suppose it's as good as any a note to end on.

I'm a rat trapped. Elippathayam (aka The Rap Trap).

Elippathayam (The Rat Trap) is a Malayalam film from the early 1980's directed by the famous Adoor Gopalakrishnan, who is named the "true heir to Satyajit Ray", according to the DVD cover of the Region 2 DVD. The film is also one of the reasons I just don't watch art cinema all that often.

Gopalakrishnan is surely an accomplished director, and the film is certainly an accomplished one. Among its accolades is the British Film Institute's "Most Original and Imaginative Film shown at a National Film Theatre". What's so original about it, then?

The plot centers around a man called Unni, who lives with his sisters and is, quite frankly, a giant douchebag. Of course, the thing about art films is that you're not supposed to phrase a character's douchebaggery as such. I'm supposed to say, he is trapped in the metaphorical rat trap of the past, determined not to accept the fall of the feodalist system and rejecting the world around him that is getting on with the times. If this sounds original and imaginative, you know, that's because it probably is. But what you see on-screen is a coward of a man, treating his sisters and the rest of the world badly and eaten up by his own paranoia. And anyway, any philosophical conclusions I made of the film, the DVD cover already told me and the essay booklet inside the DVD clarified further. So it's not that I figured out the film - it figured out itself.

So I suppose this is where I'm going to drop a cliché on my innocent readers while addressing the movie: "it's not you, it's me". Because Elippathayam is not a bad art film - it's just one of those things that highlights to me why I personally don't really enjoy artsy films all that much. The film is ripe with symbolism and meaning that I probably wouldn't understand if I hadn't read the attached essay, or perhaps would've only picked up on a rewatch - a rewatch that might've never taken place as the film simply isn't encaging enough for me to return to.

It's a difficult topic. Does a movie have to result to low-brow antics in order to entertain me? I don't think so, nor do I consider myself a 'dumb' viewer. But this type of cinema, I guess it's just not for me. There is constantly this attached difficulty that the films aren't about the events that take place in them, but the themes and the meanings those themes take in the film. To discuss what happens in the movie is of secondary importance - the themes and messages are the priority, but I guess the metaphorical rat trap - aha! - is the fact that once you discuss the movie and reveal the themes and the treatment given to them by the director, you ultimately 'spoil' the movie to the person who hasn't seen it. But perhaps there is joy in the discovery of these things, even after you know about them. Like I said, it's just not my kind of cinema.

(This was, by the way, my first Malayalam film. I knew I should've started with something from the more commercial side...)