REVIEW 761: PRATHI POOVANKOZHI

Release date:	Kerala: December 20, 2019 Delhi: January 3, 2020
Director:	Rosshan Andrrews
Cast: Language:	Manju Warrier, Rosshan Andrrews, Anusree, Alencier Ley Lopez, Saiju Kurup Malayalam

As a woman, it is hard to watch this film and not have a flashback to the humiliating sexual assaults you have endured. In private and public spaces, millions of men continue to grab, grope, stalk, flash their genitals at women, masturbate on them or in their presence, sneer, leer, pass lewd comments, verbally abuse, prod and crush breasts, pinch bottoms, fondle midriffs and in numerous other ways molest, harass and dehumanise the other half of the human species. 

So yes, I understand Madhuri’s rage in Prathi Poovankozhi and I share it. 

It is precisely because the female experience of such male behaviour is so routine though that I also don’t understand Prathi Poovankozhi. In the film, Manju Warrier plays Madhuri, a salesperson in a Kottayam sari shop who is so enraged when a man squeezes her bottom on a bus one day, that she makes it her mission to slap him at least once. She gets a range of reactions to her intent, the sort we have all witnessed and/or personally faced in reality – supportive women, women recounting their own repulsive encounters with perverts, a woman fuming at that man, another fuming at Madhuri for not moving on, yet another blaming her for the perv’s actions. One comment by an ally bothered me though. This friend explains kindly that assaults are not unusual and if Madhuri is unable to get over this one it is because such a thing is happening to her for the first time. 

Hold on. 

Wait. 

Did I hear that right? This woman who has inhabited the earth for what I assume must be about three decades, who stays alone with her elderly mother, who works in a crowded space, who takes public transport and walks down teeming streets to her workplace each day, who attends social gatherings, this woman has...never...been...molested...before? Ever? Not by a relative, a colleague, an acquaintance, a neighbour, or even a stranger? 

Never? 

It is at this point I wished that writer Unni R. had hired women consultants for this screenplay. Because it takes a man to not know the frequency with which women get molested. It takes a man to not know that most women suffer harassment and molestation on multiple occasions in their lives. This is why, when as a woman you highlight an episode or two on a public platform, men friends think they are helping by badgering you to alert the authorities. Women allies, on the other hand, tend to just lend a listening ear, because they know that if a woman were to go to the police every single time she is harassed, she would have time for nothing else. That is how often it happens. 

It takes a well-meaning but partially informed man to write a heroine who is molested for the first time in her life when she is in her 20s/30s/thereabouts.

Most women who file official complaints do so when a particular attack drives them over the edge either because of its severity or for some other specific reason. Madhuri has no tipping point because she has never before been similarly targeted. 

It is a measure of Warrier’s arresting screen presence and acting, and the genuine concern Unni and director Rosshan Andrrews evidently have for women, that with all its flaws, Prathi Poovankozhi remains an engaging film. 

The title literally translates to “The Accused Rooster”, a play on words and the gender of most harassers since “kozhi” is Malayalam slang for a womaniser, a man of questionable morality and so on. 

Prathi Poovankozhi has been adapted for the big screen by Unni from his own short story Sankadam. It reunites Andrrews and Warrier after the former directed the superstar in 2014’s How Old Are You?, her comeback film following her post-marriage hiatus. 

This new film is both relatable and unrelatable, heartening and exasperating at the same time. It does not have the intellectual depth of director Sanal Kumar Sashidharan’s Ozhivudivasathe Kali (An Off-Day Game), which was based on another of Unni’s stories. That one showed an astonishing grasp of caste and gender politics. It also did not feature a single excessive moment, word, shot or scene. 

Prathi Poovankozhi is weighed down by a string of superfluities. The background score, for instance, shoots through the rooftop every time the villainous Antappan comes on screen, as if to beat into our skulls the point that he is the bad guy here. Madhuri has a mother with whom she is inexplicably perennially impatient. Alencier Ley Lopez plays a close family friend with whom she shares an entire playful song right at the start, which seems to indicate that he will later play a crucial role, but he contributes not a milli-inch of a difference to the plot. 

Grace Antony from Kumbalangi Nights plays a sweeper who looks important and says ominous-sounding things, which suggest that at some point we will get to know more about her or her association with Antappan. Ultimately, she too adds up to nought. 

More troubling is the satellite character played by Anusree – Madhuri’s best friend and colleague at the sari store, whose flirtations and relationships with several men seem, on the surface, to have been written into the script merely for their comedy value. A later conversation in which her deception involves a child-like innocent man seems to indicate though that she has been placed there to also assert that while the accused in this film may be a poovankozhi, the piddakozhi (hen) in our society ain’t no saint either.

This seems like Messrs Unni and Andrrews pre-empting the wrath of men who claim victimhood and float the hashtag #NotAllMen each time women speak up about discrimination. C’mon!

The only satellite character whose presence makes a legitimate point is the policeman played by Saiju Kurup. Through him we are reminded that sexual predators are everywhere, which of course contradicts the point earlier made when portraying the assault on the bus as unprecedented for Madhuri. 

That said, the usually dependable Kurup’s acting here is semi-comical and confusing. Competent artistes like Anusree and Antony are wasted in this film. In Anusree’s case this is a pity because she does manage to be funny while enacting her character’s shenanigans. 

Warrier, however, is well utilised and delivers an immersive performance as Madhuri. Watching her, you can almost see her rage physically and mentally consuming her. 

Andrrews has done well to step into the part of the creepy Antappan. Just seeing his expression when he mauls Madhuri sent a chill down my spine. He should, however, be held to account for roping Lopez into this project. When a man with grievous allegations of sexual wrongdoing against him is cast as a considerate friend of a woman battling sexual violence in a film, it is ironic, distracting and self-defeating. 

Cinematically and ideologically then, Prathi Poovankozhi is wracked with problems. Yet, whatever the criticisms of the film may be, it is also true that it is convincing and moving in part because Madhuri’s anger does not come from the same “avenging angel” cliché that birthed 22 Female Kottayam and Puthiya Niyamam in which unreal women survivors hatch elaborate schemes for vengeance. Madhuri’s actions in the final scene are realistic because they stem from a spontaneous anger that causes her to explode momentarily as a woman might, as women have been known to on occasion, in real life. 

The see-saw of emotions she runs through in the closing minutes of Prathi Poovankozhi – a sudden confusion in a darkened, decrepit house followed by a calm before an internal churn and finally, an eruption – are handled perfectly, barring the loud music. Madhuri’s brilliantly beautiful, credible rage lifts Prathi Poovankozhi above its own failings.

Rating (out of 5 stars): 2.5

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	102 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/prathi-poovankozhi-movie-review-manju-warrier-and-a-brilliantly-beautiful-rage-make-up-for-scanty-confused-writing-7899481.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prathi_Poovankozhi

REVIEW 688: MADHURARAJA

Release date:	April 12, 2019
Director:	Vysakh
Cast: Language:	Mammootty, Jai, Nedumudi Venu, Anusree, Vijayaraghavan, Salim Kumar, Siddique, Jagapathi Babu, Aju Varghese, Sunny Leone, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Shamna Kasim, Santhosh Keezhattoor, Anna Reshma Rajan Malayalam, Tamil and English

Almost a decade has passed since Pokkiri Raja’s hero Madurai Raja, in the person of Mammootty, strode across the big screen mouthing the signature refrain (roughly translated), “Raja does what he says he will do, and only says what he can and will do”. Like most macho heroes of this genre of commercial Indian cinema, he also had a signature song, with these words, “He speaks English, he speaks Tamil, but Malayalam is his mother tongue,” highlighting his character’s quirky insistence on spouting mangled English and the adolescence spent in Madurai that led to his fluency in Tamil.

The man, his mantra and his song are back this week in director Vysakh’s new release, Madhuraraja, this one too starring Mammootty. In the years since Pokkiri Raja, Vysakh has given Malayalam cinema an even bigger blockbuster, the Mohanlal-starrer Pulimurugan. Madhuraraja is written by Pulimurugan’s writer Udaykrishna, who was one half of the team that wrote Pokkiri Raja.

The press has been told that Madhuraraja is not a sequel to Pokkiri Raja, but it is.

The action here is set on the island of Pambinthuruthu in Kerala, where the criminal businessman V.R. Nadeshan’s writ runs large. For about a quarter of a century, Nadeshan (Jagapathi Babu) has caused multiple deaths with the spurious liquor he manufactures. He remains safe from the law though, because of his government and police connections.

Madurai Raja’s father, the schoolteacher Madhavan (Nedumudi Venu), is sent to Pambinthuruthu to inquire into a complaint that unruly patrons of a bar owned by Nadeshan are creating havoc with a local school next door. Obviously there is a clash between the saintly old man and the bad guy, and of course this then compels Raja to drop by.

Twists and turns follow, but for the most part the plot is not extraordinary. What helps the film pull through all the same are Mammootty’s energy, unabashed enthusiasm for this silly role and comic timing, along with some thrilling, chilling action choreography by Peter Hein. 

Every time Raja enters the scene, the camera goes low and the soundtrack volume goes sky high. This clichéd method of establishing a male protagonist’s supremacy over all he surveys was insufferable in the recent releases Mikhael and Lucifer, but is less painful in Madhuraraja because the megastar and the movie both convey the impression that they are not taking themselves too seriously.

Besides, the sequences involving a pack of ferocious canines owned by Nadeshan are so well conceptualised, so slickly shot and edited, that no one would guess Mollywood works with a fraction of the budget available to the average Hollywood film. The dogs are hungry for human flesh, and Vysakh mines their ravenousness to terrifying effect.

This is not to suggest that Madhuraraja’s otherwise largely formulaic nature or its stereotypical representation of masculinity is to be excused.

As is usually the case with Vysakh’s work, women here are only sidelights in a man’s world. The film features a casual rape joke by Aju Varghese’s character, some double entendre and swipes at feminism. A man who tries to deceive a young woman into giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is shortly thereafter shown lambasting another man for laying a hand on the same woman – as it is in most commercial Indian cinema of this sort, the message here is clear: that the woman who has been marked out by the screenplay as the property of a hero (or in this case, the second lead played by Jai) is fair game for him but will be protected from others by him.

Like Mera Naam Shaji last week, this one too makes a wisecrack about Kerala’s vanitha mathal (women’s wall), the massive human chain formed by women in the state earlier this year as a symbolic show of solidarity in their fight against discrimination. For good measure, in a passage involving Sunny Leone the film also muddies the waters around #MeToo by implying that willing women whip out the slogan for their convenience. Both potshots mirror the extreme resentment against feminism expressed in real life by men of this patriarchal film industry, especially since the formation of Kerala’s Women In Cinema Collective in 2017.

The significant difference between Madhuraraja and 2016’s Kasaba is that in the latter, Mammootty’s character himself was the purveyor of the misogyny that dominated the screenplay. In Madhuraraja, he is a benevolent patriarch who does not spew venom at women or mistreat them – the instances described in the previous two paragraphs all involve other characters and are all fleeting. The fact that even this counts as a step forward is a measure of how slim the pickings are out there and how grim the scenario is on this front in mainstream Malayalam cinema.

Unlike its rigid attitude to gender, Madhuraraja seems fluid in the matter of party politics. A line from Raja about the vacuum left in Tamil Nadu by the death of Jayalalithaa would suggest one particular party affiliation, but the assumption is nixed later in the film with a barb aimed at political leaders who build gigantic statues to divert the electorate’s attention from genuine issues (and we all know who is top of the mind in that arena right now).

The battle between the political rivals in Madhuraraja is enjoyable stuff, as is DoP Shaji Kumar’s work on scenic Pambinthuruthu. I particularly liked that point in the opening moments when a sketch of the island accompanying the credits transitions to an actual aerial shot of the place. Lovely.

Gopi Sundar’s songs are moderately effective – the much hyped dance number featuring Leone is reasonably catchy but frankly, it is more pleasing to the eye (thanks to Joseph Nellickal’s production design) than the ears. That lavish set piece is one of many visually rich elements in the film, though none is as memorable or as haunting as Nadeshan’s waterfront hideout where he keeps his pet beasts.

Nedumudi Venu, Vijayaraghavan, Siddique and Suraj Venjaramoodu here reprise their roles from Pokkiri Raja. (Their backstories remain the same except in the case of Vijayaraghavan’s Krishnan Nair whose limp is attributed to a different cause from the inter-clan violence cited in Pokkiri Raja.) Each of these men makes a brief appearance in Madhuraraja, none is offered any particular challenge, and therefore none of their performances is particularly worth lauding.

Tamil actor Jai plays Raja’s foster brother – he has a long role but lacks the charisma to pull it off in the way Prithviraj Sukumaran managed to make his mark while sharing screen space with a screen giant in the previous film.

The women are all unremarkable in unremarkable roles, and that includes Anusree whose character Vasanthi gets considerable screen time but is written in a most unappealing fashion.

To be fair to the rest of the cast, most resources in Madhuraraja are concentrated on Mammootty and the villainous Jagapathi Babu who is suitably intimidating and angry throughout.

Since a potentially fine actor like Mammootty seems to have decided that mass-pleasing projects mounted on a massive canvas are the way to go for him, on a relative scale this one is better than most films he has done in a long long while. He and the novelty of those bloodthirsty beasts keep Madhuraraja going.

The film is mostly quite juvenile, if you think about it – I mean c’mooooon, the interval is announced with the words “the real play begins: intermission” – but the saving grace is that it is not pretentious. It knows what it is and does not demand that we see it as anything more. 

To borrow and play on the protagonist’s words: Madhuraraja does what it says it will do, and only says what it can and will do.  

Rating (out of five stars): **

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	147 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/madhuraraja-movie-review-mammootty-and-a-bunch-of-beasts-make-it-work-past-the-decibels-sexism-and-cliches-6440621.html

Posters courtesy:

https://www.facebook.com/pg/maduraraja.movie/