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Release
date:
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Kerala: May 4, Delhi: May 25, 2018
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Director:
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Jubith Namradath
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Cast:
Language:
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Suraj
Venjaramoodu, Rima Kallingal, Sheethal Shyam, Nirmal Palazhi, Alencier Ley
Lopez, Indrans, Nithin Raj, Nassar, Abhija Sivakala, Mammukoya
Malayalam
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When a bus called
Gandhi from Democracy Travels takes off on a Karnataka-Kerala highway, it seems
inevitable that this will be an eventful ride. The passengers include a lustful
male conductor out to maul a beautiful single woman on board, a transsexual who
bonds with the latter, a horny man who is turned on at the sight of a couple
making out, a solo female traveller separated by a few seats from an attentive
and attractive young fellow, a sickly chap seated beside a considerate youth, a
child sexual abuse survivor, an over-zealous Christian duo, a hypocritical Muslim
guy who makes puritanical demands on his wife, a thin-skinned Hindu pilgrim and
a foreigner curious about Hinduism. Gandhi is part of a fleet that includes
vehicles named Godse, Jinnah, Marx and Ambedkar.
This is the sort of concept that
could potentially translate into terribly pretentious or terribly clever
satire. Debutant writer-director Jubith Namradath’s Aabhaasam is a mixed bag. The christening of the buses ends up
sounding puerile in a film that whiles away too much time getting to where it
wants to go, and packs in too much blatant messaging on the way there. Too many
metaphors in Aabhaasam lack subtlety,
too many characters rear their heads with promise but then fade away, and there
are too many socio-political references that, though current and relevant,
barely skim the surface of the issues in question. In its exploration of gender
dynamics on the bus though, Namradath does indeed make a significant point.
Aabhaasam
variously
means immorality, indecency and vulgarity. The director says the title is also
a crunching down of Aarsha Bharatha Samskaram, a glorious era in India’s
(arguably mythical) past. The irony clearly did not go down well with the
Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), which initially gave Aabhaasam an unfairly severe A (adults only) rating, which was changed to UA after a long-drawn-out battle. Namradath has told the news media that the Censors
attributed the A to his film’s “anti-establishment” nature. I will leave it to
lawyers to discuss the illegality of that criterion, and dwell instead on the
over-sensitivity of the sarkar.
If “establishment”
is to be read literally here as “India’s present government / ruling party”,
then the examining committee was most probably irked by the (amusing) mention
in the film of beef dishes being camouflaged on the menu of a Malayali
restaurant in Karnataka. It is a measure of this government’s extreme
insecurity that its flunkies in the CBFC have found this passing aside in Aabhaasam bothersome.
If
“anti-establishment” is to be read as “anti-status quo”, well then, it is the
job of creative persons to question prevailing power structures, and yes, Aabhaasam does that. It is not the
CBFC’s job to object to this (or any) filmmaker’s decision to hammer patriarchy
and sexual repression, take minor potshots at major religions and the
government.
Aabhaasam’s earnestness in an intimidating political environment
is no doubt impressive. Sadly, its good intentions take it only so far and not
further.
The success of an
ensemble enterprise depends on the writer developing multiple single-line
descriptors into full-fledged characters, memorable whether they are big or
small. The sexually unapologetic Seema from Angamaly Diaries, Kachra the Dalit spinner from Lagaan
and Maman the vile gangster from Slumdog
Millionaire are what iconic ensemble films are made of – etched forever in
the public consciousness although they were just satellite presences in their
respective films. Despite Aabhaasam’s
ensemble cast of respected artistes, most of the characters
are briefly engaging but not effectively
expanded by the screenplay into individuals with a distinctive personality and
profile that goes beyond the markers of the social group they are meant to
represent.
The only
fully-fleshed-out player in Aabhaasam,
the person who makes the film worthwhile, is the creepy bus attendant played by
Suraj Venjaramoodu. The story emerging from his actions, the equation that
forms between the woman he targets (Rima Kallingal), her new found trans friend
(Sheethal Shyam) and the stranger played by Abhija Sivakala, lead to
well-thought-out consequences and a credible conclusion.
It helps that all
four actors are remarkable. Kallingal and Shyam deserved better-scripted roles,
but they do well with what they are served. Venjaramoodu, with the benefit of
the film’s best-written part, makes a chameleon-like descent into sliminess that
is particularly striking because his turn as a sweetly subdued husband to a
fiery wife in Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum last year is still so fresh in the mind. Sivakala is a
powerhouse performer and makes a mark with just a few minutes of screen time.
Namradath’s
potential is evident with the strand involving this quartet in Aabhaasam. Their impact is diluted
inexcusably though by the many wanderings in the screenplay, including a
self-indulgent, intellectually la-di-da sequence in the lap of nature featuring Kallingal and Shyam. As if infected by the
mood, editor Shameer Muhammed, who is otherwise
so wonderful, allows too many moments, shots and scenes to linger longer than
they should until the film’s final, finally interesting half hour.
If great principles
alone could make great art, every activist would be an artist. Jubith Namradath’s
sincerity is evident in Aabhaasam but
obviously more was needed. Where his film works is when it is not making
over-smart, snappy statements, but telling a story instead. Honestly, that
story should have been enough.
Rating
(out of five stars): *3/4
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CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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121 minutes
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This review has also been published on Firstpost:
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