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Release
date:
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Kerala: November 8, 2019
Delhi: November 15, 2019
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Director:
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Ratheesh Balakrishnan Poduval
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Cast:
Language:
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Soubin Shahir, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Kendy Zirdo, Saiju Kurup, Parvathi
T, Megha Mathew, Rajesh Madhavan, Sivadas Kannur, Unni Raja
Malayalam with some English
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A buffalo on a rampage, teenaged human beings and a robot in
addition, of course, to adult humans – these have been the protagonists of
Malayalam films in 2019 so far. Not that serious Indian cinephiles are
unaware of this, but if anyone does ask, here is proof that this is a time
of experimentation for one of India’s most respected film industries.
Writer-director
Ratheesh Balakrishnan Poduval’s contribution to what has been a magnificent
year for Malayalam cinema so far is Android
Kunjappan Version 5.25, a darling film about a mechanical engineer
struggling to take care of his grouchy ageing father while also building a
career for himself.
Subrahmanian,
played by Soubin Shahir, dearly loves his exasperating Dad. Over the years he
has quit several big-city jobs, at each instance to return to his village in
Kerala because good care-givers are hard to come by and even the halfway decent ones find this rigid old man intolerable.
Bhaskaran Poduval (Suraj Venjaramoodu) remains ungrateful and unmoved by his
son’s evident affection. He has always wanted Subrahmanian to find
a job in the vicinity of their home so that he can be available at all times.
Do it not out of a sense of duty, he keeps insisting though, do it out of
love.
Now
in his mid-30s, desperate for a job and a life of his own, Subrahmanian ropes
in a robot to be Bhaskaran’s companion and
domestic help while he is away.
Android
Kunjappan Version 5.25 raises a question that is
increasingly occupying filmmakers worldwide. Can even the smartest machines
experience love and fulfill the human need for it? American director Spike
Jonze’s moving Oscar-nominated 2013 film Her
had a lonely man (Joaquin Phoenix) falling for a virtual assistant
(Scarlett Johansson’s voice). The equally moving British film Ex Machina starred Alicia Vikander as a
humanoid robot being tested to see if she can match human intelligence. The far
less tech-driven yet just as visually impressive Android Kunjappan explores the relationship that develops between a
crotchety elderly human and a robot who never feels insulted.
Film budgets in India are a microscopic fraction of what the
West can afford. Poduval has
told the press that financial constraints prompted the team to actually physically build a robot instead of conjuring one up with VFX. The result is
arguably better than any illusion that could have been constructed on a
computer screen. The boyish-looking machine Along with Kerala’s
lush greenery and Bhaskaran’s decaying house as shot by cinematographer
Sanu John Varughese make for an interesting and unique visual combination in
this endearing, thoughtful story.
The people of Bhaskaran’s village nickname the robot Kunjappan. He is a
loveable little fellow, but Poduval does not let the narrative get
cutesy around him. The film is packed with snapshots of life in rural Kerala,
its colourful characters ranging from the merely curious to the painfully
intrusive, from gossips to unimaginably supportive folk. Android Kunjappan is unrelentingly funny, yet it is
at all times profoundly philosophical.
Soubin Shahir is pitch perfect here as a son torn between a parent he loves
and his desire for an existence beyond his village. At 43, Suraj Venjaramoodu
is not the natural choice to play a 70/80-year-old. Since older men are not denied opportunities in the way women are, this is a point not related to
principle as much as to the artistic challenges involved. As it happens,
Venjaramoodu’s makeup and his impression of a fiery but frail old man are
astonishingly good. The actor does not allow this to become the overriding
aspect of his turn as Bhaskaran though – truth be told, his gait and
posture are so consistent throughout, that early in the film I forgot
the character is about double the age of the actor. All that is visible on
screen is his sensitive performance.
Bhaskaran’s considerate nephew Prasannan is played by the gifted
character artiste Saiju Kurup. It is a well-written part, and as always
Kurup does full justice to it.
The
other key individual in Android
Kunjappan is Hitomi, Subrahmanian’s colleague of Japanese-Malayali
descent played by debutant Kendy Zirdo. Hitomi
is unusual for Malayalam cinema – a foreigner who is not exoticised or given
sketchy characterisation. Beautiful though Sudani from Nigeria was, Samuel/Sudu in that film always
remained an outsider being observed by the storyteller, always “the other”,
whereas it is clear that once he dispenses with Hitomi’s explanation for her
knowledge of Malayalam, Poduval gets down to viewing her as a person rather
than a Japanese-Malayali person.
That said, unless you have never met an Indian from east of the
Orissa-Bengal belt, you have to just hear Hitomi speak a few words of
English to know that Zirdo is not Japanese. Sure enough a Google search reveals
that she is from Arunachal Pradesh. Perfectionism would have called for
coaching the young actor to sound Japanese. That should be the next step in
Mollywood’s evolution. In the present context though, it is a pleasure to see
Malayalam cinema looking beyond Malayalis and beyond even Indians for
its stories, and writing a foreigner as a credible character with empathy.
Zirdo is a sprightly ball of energy, she makes Hitomi charming and her
Malayalam is a joy to hear.
The smaller satellite roles in Android Kunjappan are played by artistes
who look and sound so real, it is as if they have been recruited from the local
populace.
Android Kunjappan’s all-round
adorability overshadows its flaws and moments of hesitation. The strand
involving Saudamini, played by Parvathi T,
for one, does not quite come together. (Some readers may consider the next two sentences spoilers) In a
scene where we discover that Subrahmanian has been secretly observing his
father in the house through a camera, the tone of the narrative suggests
that Poduval has not considered issues of privacy in the context of the
elderly. And in the end, when
Subrahmanian tailors his plans once again around his father, thus allowing
Bhaskaran to get away with not budging from the status quo, it does seem like the script opted for a path it
deemed comparatively safe in a society that tends to romanticise parenthood and
demand that we deify parents irrespective of their failings. (Spoiler alert
ends)
I
suppose what makes Android Kunjappan special anyway is that it takes courage to even
acknowledge on the Indian screen that a parent could be selfish and not a
saint. What gives it nuance is the way it makes the hero’s love for his
difficult father believable, and how it works to endear Bhaskaran to the
audience even as we accept that he is a jerk.
This is what makes Android
Kunjappan a pathbreaking film steeped in commentary about age, caste,
class, religious bigotry, social and familial pressures. When Bhaskaran and
Kunjappan discuss the former’s attraction for a woman in the neighbourhood,
Kunjappan points out that in Japan if you love a person you openly tell
them so. “That is not how it is here (in India/Kerala),” Bhaskaran
replies. “Here you either rape her or pour petrol on her and set her on fire.”
The scene is not designed as a joke – thankfully, Poduval is no Omar Lulu – so its matter-of-factness makes his observation a tighter
slap on the face of Indian/Malayali society than any character delivering a
speech on the subject of consent.
The use of technology in this film is impressive precisely because it
does not overtly seek to impress with its futurism. Kunjappan is cute and looks
slick, but it is clear that the story and its humanity are of paramount
importance to Poduval. It is no wonder then that despite its overall
light-heartedness, Android
Kunjappan Version 5.25 paints a poignant portrait of loneliness
and potential human-machine equations enriched by the writer’s deep
comprehension of the incomprehensibility of human love.
Rating (out
of 5 stars): 3.5
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CBFC Rating (India):
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U
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Running time:
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140 minutes
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This review has also been published on Firstpost:
Visuals courtesy IMDB
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