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Release date:
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April
14, 2017
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Director:
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Sidhartha Siva
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Cast:
Language:
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Nivin Pauly, Althaf, Aishwarya
Rajesh, Binu Pappu, Gayathri Suresh, Aparna Gopinath, Sreenivasan, Musthafa, Tony
Luke Kocherry, Santhosh Keezhattoor
Malayalam
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A month after Tom Emmatty’s Oru Mexican Aparatha saluted Communism with a tale of the violent rivalry between
student political organisations in Kerala, Sidhartha Siva’s Sakhavu (Comrade)
comes to theatres to tell us what makes a true comrade. This one stars Nivin
Pauly in a double role – as Krishna Kumar a.k.a. Kichchu, whose membership of
the student outfit SFK is solely driven by his ambitions for himself; and as the
younger version of a veteran Communist leader called Krishnan, willing to give
up his life for workers’ rights.
If you are not disposed to watch films
opposed to your views, be warned: Sakhavu’s heart beats for Communism
and it does not pretend otherwise. What works in its favour is that it does not
allow its affection for Kerala’s old-time Marxists to turn into propaganda and falsehoods.
It helps too that Pauly gets truckloads of screen time from start to finish.
The leading man’s charm dominates the
first half of Sakhavu, which is devoted to Krishna Kumar’s shamelessly selfish
plans that he has no qualms sharing with his friend and associate Mahesh played
by Althaf. The interactions between these two are a hoot, not the least because
there is no exaggeration here: their comedy mocks our bizarre and troubling
reality, we have all been stung by hypocrites in politics who pretend to serve
the people while serving themselves instead.
Siva’s smooth writing of these
passages is bolstered by Pauly and Althaf’s spanking on-screen chemistry and
comic timing. Althaf in particular is ROFLMAO-worthy (yes, that is a word) each
time he opens his mouth to speak.
Sadly though, he virtually disappears
in the second half, which goes back in time to the younger Krishnan’s battles
on behalf of workers. This part is often thoughtful and thought-provoking, yet
loses its way for various reasons. First, it stretches itself especially with
the needless insertion of full-length songs in a narrative that could have done
without them (the problem is not with Prashant Pillai’s numbers but that they
have been used in their entirety).
Besides, the tone and politics of the
second half contrast too sharply with the preceding portion.
Krishna Kumar’s story works because
it takes a critical view of politics per se and Communist politicians in
particular. Krishnan’s saga, however, is uncritical and one-dimensional,
inhabiting a world divided simplistically between good workers and horrible
bosses. The former are all unequivocally saintly folk whose actions must never
be questioned, the latter are tarred with one stroke of the writers’ brush as exploitative,
evil and cruel.
The film also reveals a prejudice
evident in many Malayalam films where the outsider, especially the north Indian
outsider, is viewed through a lens of othering if not outright suspicion. The
one significant north Indian character in Sakhavu, a tea plantation and
factory manager played by the attractive Tony Luke Kocherry, is a nasty piece
of goods with no redeeming qualities. (Aside: the factory signboard bears the
surname “Mehta” but the spelling “Mehatha” is used on a document the owner is
shown signing – if this was not an instance of casualness and there is a deeper
meaning here instead, I confess it was lost on me.)
These are issues particularly worth
raising in a film that wears its conscience on its sleeve.
Still, there is no question that Sakhavu
is well intentioned and serves its purpose with the mirror it holds up to
politicians and young political aspirants, showing us in Sakhavu Krishnan and
Krishna Kumar the contrast between the rare idealist and the insincere wannabe.
(Spoiler alert) One of the highlights of Sakhavu is Pauly, who slips into two
characters and three distinct looks with such ease that after watching the film
I went looking for the name of a third actor on the Internet, only to be
reminded of the magic that can be worked when a talented actor and skilled
make-up artist team up. (Spoiler alert
ends)
Pauly is surrounded in this film by a
strong supporting cast, including many familiar faces in tiny roles. Aishwarya
Rajesh reminds us of her innate charisma in her performance as Sakhavu
Krishnan’s wife Sakhavu Janaki, although she is poorly served by the make-up
team in her senior avatar. The old Janaki’s youthful skin is a surprising
let-down in a film where another young actor has been rendered almost
unrecognisable by intelligent ageing make-up.
It is tempting to look past the
follies of Sakhavu because so much of what it says resonates in the
troubling, divisive times we live in, far beyond a discussion about the loss of
Communist ideals. I watched the film in a packed west Delhi hall where the
cheering audience’s love for Pauly seemed to rival their love for comrade-ery.
They clapped loudly and repeatedly through Sakhavu Krishnan’s dialoguebaazi. To
be honest, I too was tempted to let out a whoop of delight when Krishnan
refused to reveal his surname to a wealthy landowner, saying that instead of being
known by his caste and religion, he wished to be known by what his chosen first
name – “Sakhavu” – indicated about him.
Sakhavu does not have the natural ease of Sidhartha Siva’s National
Award-winning Ain from 2014 nor is it as thoroughly consistent as his sweet
little Kochavva Paulo Ayyappa Coelho from last year, but it has its
merits. Siva seems to have his heart in the right place, and he does, after
all, make the point he sets out to make here, aided by one of the most
interesting male stars of the present generation.
Rating (out of five stars): **1/2
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CBFC
Rating (India):
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U
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Running
time:
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164
minutes
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