Release date:
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July 29, 2016 (Bengaluru), July 8, 2016 (Chennai), June 17 (Kerala)
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Director:
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Sanal Kumar Sashidharan
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Cast:
Language:
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Nisthar Ahamed,
Pradeep Kumar P.M., Girish Nair, Baiju Netto, Arun
Nayar, R. Reju Pillai, Abhija Sivakala
Malayalam
|
Writer-director Sanal
Kumar Sashidharan’s Ozhivudivasathe
Kali
(An Off-Day Game) is a deceptively calm film. Like the water in that brook bubbling
softly beside the primary location, it appears serene from a distance. Plunge
below the tranquil surface though, and what you get is a chilling saga of
caste, class, colour and misogyny in our society.
The hypocrisy in that outward
calm and in the simmering tension beneath that veneer of peaceful co-existence are
rendered all the more poignant because the story takes place in Kerala, a state
that is romanticised and mythified in the north Indian imagination due to its high
literacy rate and other positive social development indicators. That said, though the
film is rooted in Kerala, it mirrors social realities across India. The
language may be Malayalam, but it would hold meaning in any Indian language. Its
cultural specificity is complemented by the universality of its themes.
This is a seemingly
simple yet intimidatingly complex film. And it is stunning.
Ozhivudivasathe
Kali
is about five friends gathered at a remote country house. They have an off day from
work due to elections in the state, hence the title. A local woman is roped in
to cook them a meal, while they drink several rounds of alcohol.
From the moment we first
spot these five middle-aged men together, the film delivers a running
commentary on Kerala society. Liquor is a pre-occupation. Women are trivialised.
Dark skin is mocked. One of them is addressed by the group as Thirumeni (holy
one); we later discover that his surname is Namboothiri (read: a member of the
priestly caste). Dasan’s complexion is the subject of much discussion. His
caste ranking gradually becomes evident from the unspoken assumptions made
about tasks he will handle and the later repeated taunts about “his party”.
Three things flow in
plenty on this off day, as on all days in Kerala: conversation, alcohol and
prejudice. The friends discuss the Emergency, caste, dignity of labour and sexual violence.
In one of the film’s most telling passages, they sing a cheery song about
beating up their wives. That women are their playthings is evident from that
drunken number, and from their attitude to the cook Geetha.
Based on a story by
Unni R., Ozhivudivasathe Kali rambles along
as if nothing in particular is happening, yet it is an assemblage of potential
explosions. Everyone except Geetha appears to be in a light-hearted mood, yet
each one harbours resentments that run deep. It is those resentments – vicious
and volcanic – that culminate in the film’s unexpected, horrifying climax.
If that climax has the
ability to knock the breath out of a viewer, it is primarily because Ozhivudivasathe Kali feels not like a
film but like an extract from real life. DoP Indrajith S. keeps his camera invisible,
the acting is natural and the speech unscripted. That last part is
unsurprising: there were, in fact, no written dialogues before the shooting
began.
Rather than a loud
background score to needlessly heighten the drama, the film ropes in sound
designer T. Krishnanunni to weave nature seamlessly into, around, through and
past the men’s endless chatter. The breeze, the brook, the birds and the rain
are Ozhivudivasathe Kali’s music
except in the beginning and end when composer Basil Joseph unobtrusively steps
in.
Interestingly, the film
does not seek to canonise victims of marginalisation, as lazily written
commercial cinema often does. Dasan (played by Baiju Netto) may be
bristling with anger at Dalit oppression, yet he too is a purveyor of misogyny.
There also emerges during their talk, a hierarchy in hate: Vinayan (Pradeep Kumar P.M.)
deems
it acceptable to leer at Geetha (Abhija Sivakala) but believes that an actual
physical relationship requires a woman’s consent, Asokan (Arun Nayar) says there
is an element of rape in all sexual intercourse between a man and woman, we can
guess without being told that Dharman (Nisthar Ahamed) agrees. (Aside: Girish Nair plays
Namboothiri/Thirumeni.)
Revulsion for these
men is partnered by fascination. It is impossible to look away. The camera
understands that and remains unrelenting in its pursuit of them. The denouement
is filmed in a single shot that lasts almost 48 minutes. It is exhausting, but enthralling.
Ozhivudivasathe
Kali deservedly
won the FIPRESCI Award for Best Malayalam Film at the International Film
Festival of Kerala 2015 and Best Film at the Kerala State Film Awards in the
same year. It got a theatrical release in its home state in June, hit Chennai
early last month and is now in Bangalore theatres. This is a film that needs to
be seen not just by Malayalis, but by everyone, not just by adults, but by
children too.
As it happens, the
usually queasy, politically conservative Central Board of Film Certification
has given Ozhivudivasathe Kali a UA
certificate. The director lets on that the Board asked for two voice mutes but
no cuts. In an ideal world, even that should not have happened, but considering
that the country’s Dalit agitation has reached a flashpoint in Gujarat – a
state very dear to the present Central Government – it is a miracle that the
film has been released at all.
Opening shots of
the election mayhem in the film shows swarms of flags bearing political party symbols:
the Congress’ hand, the hammer and sickle, the BJP’s lotus. A flock of BJP supporters
drive by on motorcycles shouting “Bharat
Mata ki jai (Hail Mother India)”. What follows is a story about the games
played by the aforesaid Mata’s
favoured children: upper caste, upper class, Hindu and male.
Ozhivudivasathe
Kali is
a socio-politically and culturally precious cinematic gem. Kerala, Chennai and
Bangalore are fortunate. If it is not released in your city, the loss is
entirely yours.
Rating
(out of five): ****1/2
CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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106 minutes
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This
review has also been published on Firstpost:
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