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Release
date:
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March 16, 2018
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Director:
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Saiju S.S.
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Cast:
Language:
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Unni Mukundan,
Gokul Suresh, Alencier Ley Lopez, Niranjana Anoop, Miya, Neeraja, Mareena
Michael, Lena, Shanker Ramakrishnan, Saju Navodaya, Kailash, Nelson
Malayalam
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Of all the superpowers that
commercial Indian cinema has bestowed on men down the decades, this must rank
as the most inventive: the ability to know what happened at a time and place
where they were not present, there were no eyewitnesses, and the only account
of it comes from a flashback to the episode in a movie.
I kid you not. A
murder is committed in Ira at a spot
where no one but the murderers are present. The victim dies without making a
statement. The culprits do not reveal themselves. Yet somehow, an important male
character knows who was responsible, and the knowledge sets him off on a
revenge spree.
At no point do we
get an indication of who gave him the killer’s identity. The only explanation
can be that he too was watching Ira
and saw the flashback to the murder along with us, the audience. Just kidding,
but you get my drift.
To say more would
require me to give away the names of this omniscient man, the murderers and the
victim, which I will not. No spoilers here, but come back and read this review after
you watch Ira, and you will know who
and what I am talking about.
Suffice it to say
that the plot of this film is pivoted on this occurrence and since it turns out
to be one big gaping loophole, everything else adds up to shunya.
Ira is the story of a senior policeman called Rajeev
(played by Unni Mukundan) investigating the sudden death of K.P. Chandy (Alencier
Ley Lopez), a controversial minister in the Kerala government. Murder is
alleged. The prime suspect is young Dr Aaryan (Gokul Suresh) who insists he is
innocent. Aaryan happens to be in a relationship with the old man’s
granddaughter Jennifer Jacob (Niranjana Anoop).
When the film
begins, Chandy is already no more and Rajeev is looking into the circumstances
of his death. Through Rajeev’s interviews with various people who know Aaryan,
the film pieces together his story while also painting a picture of Chandy for
us.
(You may consider this a spoiler, I do not, but still…)
After watching the
film, I chanced upon an interview with director Saiju S.S. in which he has said
“Ira dignifies the oppressed”. The truth
though is that this lofty ideal is just a tool around which he has built a
flashy thriller puffed up with self-importance, and that “the oppressed” being
referenced here – a poor tribal community – are sidelined within the film too,
in a bid to build up the hero as their larger than-life saviour.
Besides, you cannot claim a commitment to one marginalised group while trivialising
and stereotyping another. A rape is at one point portrayed here as the end of a
woman’s life with ye olde
cliché of a lamp dying out when the deed is done by the villain of the piece. Sexual
harassment at the workplace is comedified via a chap called Varun Nambiar, the
MD of the hospital at which Aaryan was employed. Lecherous behaviour too is treated
as comedy via the fond portrayal of Rajeev’s sidekick Venkidi – he leers at
bathing women through binoculars, calls women “pakshikal” (birds), yet is supposed to be a nice guy.
In case anyone offers up as a counterpoint the fact that there are many
female characters in this film, including some powerful women, please note that
the primary identifier of each is their relationship with Rajeev and/or Aaryan
or their usefulness to one of these men. The hospital employee played by
Mareena Michael, for one, is introduced as though she is of significance yet is
dropped like a hot potato once she serves a purpose in these men’s lives.
So much
for dignifying the oppressed. In this matter, Saiju is following in the
footsteps of his mentor Vysakh, Ira’s
producer along with writer Udaykrishna, who had a running joke in 2016’s
blockbuster Pulimurugan (directed by
Vysakh, written by Udaykrishna) involving a man who gets his kicks from peeping
into bathrooms while women are bathing.
The
declaration of noble intent in Ira notwithstanding,
Saiju and his writer Naveen John have no commitment either to the tribals in
their film or to the women. Their only commitment, clearly, is to Rajeev and
Aaryan.
(Spoiler-if-at-all alert ends)
Unni Mukundan is
yet to develop an engrossing screen presence, but he is interesting enough to
hold attention and he does seem totally involved in the role of Rajeev. His
tendency to strut about is reasonably controlled in Ira. Gokul Suresh is suitably sweet, which is all he needs to be
here. The supporting cast is packed with good actors who are largely
under-utilised.
The glaring flaw in Ira’s mystery apart, the dialogue
writing too is shabby whenever it tries to be overly smart, mostly with
Rajeev’s lines. In one scene, when Rajeev finds himself drawn to a woman, he says:
“Aval oru firebrand breed aanu (She is a firebrand breed). A rare
sweet breed.” Tacky, tacky, tacky.
The unfortunate
part is that Ira does initially build
up considerable suspense around the reasons for Chandy’s death and the apparent
framing of Aaryan. However, when the end comes and you realise that the very
cornerstone of the whodunnit is a writing gaffe, everything that has gone
before loses meaning.
Not that everything
that has gone before is sparkling. When Rajeev first meets Miya’s character,
for instance, even a kindergarten kid might guess her true identity within
minutes, but the screenplay seems to think it is keeping us guessing. This is the
sort of film in which, when one person eavesdrops on a conversation, the ones
being spied upon spell out the background to their relationship with each other
although they clearly know these facts. Why? Because this is the device the
writer has decided to use to spill the beans to the woman who is listening in
and to the audience. This is decidedly unintelligent writing.
Ira is a lesson in how not to do a thriller.
Footnote: In the run-up to Ira’s release, there has been some effort to whip up interest in
the film by creating an impression that it bears similarities to Dileep’s arrest last year in the case involving the abduction and assault on an industry
colleague. There is absolutely no resemblance between the two – none, zero,
zilch – unless you count the fact that both involve crimes. That is like saying
the Jayasurya-starrer Captain and
Gurinder Chadha’s Bend It Like Beckham
are similar because they both feature football. This transparent promotional
bid is even sillier than Ira’s screenplay.
Rating
(out of five stars): *
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CBFC Rating (India):
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U
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Running time:
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139 minutes
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This review was also published on Firstpost:
Poster
courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ira_(film)
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