REVIEW 669: ALLU RAMENDRAN

Release date:	February 1, 2019
Director:	Bilahari
Cast: Language:	Kunchacko Boban, Krishna Shankar, Aparna Balamurali, Dharmajan Bolgatty, Sreenath Bhasi, Salim Kumar, Hareesh Perumana, Assim Jamal, Kochu Preman, Chandni Sreedharan Malayalam

A split-second, blinkered decision by one man wreaks havoc in another’s life.

The victim sets out to take revenge.

His unusual vendetta has a ripple effect that could, though he does not realise it, destroy multiple lives including his own.

His primary target avenges the harm done.

Gentleman No. 2 strikes back.

And so it threatens to go on, and on and on and on.

At a macro level, director Bilahari’s Allu Ramendran is a reminder that even our most seemingly minor actions have consequences that could be far graver and more far-reaching than we realise. At a micro level it is about Ramendran (played by Kunchacko Boban), a policeman and designated driver at his police station, who finds the tyres of his official and personal vehicles repeatedly getting punctured. This obviously leads to chaos in his life and messes up the schedules of the colleagues he transports around. Much to his chagrin, he also earns the nickname Allu (Spikes/Nails) Ramendran in his town.

With humongous nails showing up on road after road down which Ramendran drives, it becomes evident that these are not accidental occurrences. Who done it then? And why?

Bilahari, who drew attention for making a feature film called Porattamon a budget of just Rs 25,000 in 2017, has his hands firmly on the reins through most of this unconventional storyline. Allu Ramendran takes time to get into the groove, but once it does, it is an unexpectedly interesting and thought-provoking experience.

A flat tyre in ordinary circumstances does not count as a tragedy, but it certainly always is a terrible inconvenience. Now imagine how you would be impacted if you got 35 flat tyres within a short stretch of time. Imagine the harm to your career from work associates considering you, at the very least, an ill omen. Imagine the psychological stress of consequently constantly being aware that someone out there is out to get you yet has, for reasons known to them alone, chosen not to cross a self-laid line.  Would you be reduced to a mental wreck wondering what they will do next or how far they will go? Ramendran, for his part, becomes fixated on finding out who is doing this to him.

This is not the stuff that suspense sagas are usually made of, and it takes a special kind of person to envision a full-length feature in this concept. It is worth noting, anyway, that though what is happening to Ramendran is puzzling, the writers and Bilahari do not treat the narrative purely as a thriller but combine the mystery with a slice-of-reality tone and insights into everyday life in Ramendran’s community.

My favourite part of Allu Ramendran is when two men fight over the sister of one of them that the other is in love with. “I will not give you my sister,” says the brother with a proprietorial attitude that is so typical of how women are viewed by their families in a patriarchal society. Cut to the next scene, and the lady in question has made her choice, in defiance of her male sibling’s wishes. It is hard not to chuckle at the point being made here by the writers.

Although Allu Ramendran flows naturally for the most part, the film shooting scene featuring actor Neeraj Madhav and director Nadirshah feels superfluous, and comes across as an excuse to stuff a song and dance interlude into the proceedings. This is not the kind of film that needs that kind of break. Allu Ramendran is more in the league of the likes of Maheshinte Prathikaram in terms of tenor, and should have stayed true to itself all the way.

The writing of Ramendran is convincing, as is the second lead Jithu (played by Krishna Shankar), an unemployed youth who hangs about with friends, plays football for a local club, and pursues a feisty college goer called Swathy (Aparna Balamurali) when he falls for her.

The screenplay is dotted with quirky supporting characters, the quirkiest of the lot being Jithu’s slightly wacko older female relative who is the exact opposite of being the voice of his conscience. They are a believable lot. The only exception is Swathy. She is a spirited creature who knows her mind but it comes across as a stretch when she lashes out at a dear relative and continues to hold a grudge against him for punishing Jithu for certain truly unconscionable behaviour. It is not as though these two have shared a deep, long-standing friendship – this is one of those boy-girl relationships popular among Malayalam film writers where the only thing a couple have going for them is that they saw each other, and he told her he likes her. For an intelligent, bright young woman to risk her everything for this tenuous and fledgling bond, be willing to turn her back on that beloved relative and even leave her family if required, as she assures Jithu she will for him, seems improbable. Yet she does.

The saving grace is that Swathy is played by Aparna Balamurali who is impossible to look away from even when she is cast in an inadequately written part.

The other under-written character is Ramendran’s wife. The only one of the supporting players whose acting is problematic is Salim Kumar, who overacts here, as he often does elsewhere.

Krishna Shankar is effective as the second lead, managing to bring out both the comicality and seriousness of Jithu’s circumstances.

Kunchacko Boban in Allu Ramendran plays a man who is a far cry from his real-life nice-guy image. The titular character is not particularly likeable, and becomes increasingly less so as his obsession with tracing his harasser rises. Boban’s look and styling in themselves are interesting, the receding hairline setting him apart from his seniors in the industry who are struggling to come to terms with their age. Boban embraces the role with both hands, giving Ramendran a menacing edge at places, and suggesting, without overstating the point, that he is on the verge of falling apart.

It is a pleasure to see this fine actor in a role that is deserving of him.

Rating (out of five stars): **3/4

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	135 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/allu-ramendran-movie-review-kunchacko-boban-is-in-fine-fettle-in-an-unusual-slice-of-life-suspense-saga-6014841.html

Poster courtesy:

https://www.facebook.com/AlluRamendran/

REVIEW 607: KAAMUKI

Release date:	Kerala: May 11, Delhi: May 25, 2018
Director:	Binu S.
Cast: Language:	Aparna Balamurali, Askar Ali, Kavya Suresh, Baiju, Kochu Preman Malayalam

When we first meet her as a teenager, the heroine of Kaamuki has just one preoccupation: she wants larger breasts so that lecherous men will stalk and harass her.

Yes, you read that right. This is not about a pubescent kid’s increasing awareness of her changing body, nor about a girl’s new-found interest in boys, or even an immature young woman’s desire for male attention. Let me say it again, slowly, so that it sinks in: Kaamuki’s leading lady Achamma Varghese a.k.a. Achu w.a.n.t.s. l.a.r.g.e.r. b.r.e.a.s.t.s. s.o. t.h.a.t. l.e.c.h.e.r.o.u.s. m.e.n. w.i.l.l. s.t.a.l.k. a.n.d. h.a.r.a.s.s. h.e.r. She does not consider it stalking or harassment, of course. She has far more positive nouns and adjectives for such obnoxious male behaviour. And the film’s attempt through that entire segment is to draw laughs from the audience courtesy the young woman’s desperation.

It goes without saying that writer-director Binu S’s Kaamuki (Female Lover) belongs to the Omar Lulu school of crude, deeply disturbing cinema. It is politically incorrect and insensitive not just on the gender front, as you will learn later in this review. In fact, it is deficient in pretty much all departments: it lacks focus, it jumps from theme to theme, it is heroine-centric in the opening half but relegates Achu to a supporting role in the hero’s existence post-interval, and it is brimful of clichés about Kerala college life.

At first it appears that this will be a comedy about a girl who is burdened with the old-fashioned name Achamma in the modern world. Next it heads in the direction of being a comedy about a girl from a conservative home – the same Achamma – anxious to catch the eye of a man, any available man, leery ones included. Finally Kaamuki rolls around to being the tale of a boy who is blind but does not want his disability to define him.

The latter gentleman is Hari, Achu’s collegemate when she enrols for a post-graduate degree in social work, and soon the object of her affection. Her initial encounters with him and his best friend Jaffer at their college in Kerala’s Kalady town are designed to play to the gallery with the widely perpetuated notion that sexual harassment is usually a figment of women’s imagination as a result of which paavam men constantly get into trouble for things they did not do or intend.

Having spent Kaamuki’s first half wincing at the light-hearted tone Binu S. adopts while portraying men – including teachers – flinging words like “piece” and “item” around to describe women in Achu’s college, casually hounding these women and worse, I spent the second half shuddering at his idea of what it takes to move an audience to tears at the travails of a sightless man.

In a scene that puts in the shade everything that passed before it in Kaamuki, a father’s proprietorial attitude towards his daughter prompts him to test a blind man’s husband-worthiness by challenging him to locate the girl in a crowd without any help. She allows it to happen. The gathering too allows it to happen, convinced no doubt about a man’s ownership rights over his daughter. And it does not occur to the couple that the decision to be with the boy should be the girl’s and hers alone. 

The hypocrisy and muddled nature of Kaamuki, and the lack of intelligence in India’s film Censorship system are particularly glaring in two scenes in which the following words flash on screen: “Violence against women is punishable under law.” Whether the declaration was voluntarily placed there by Binu S. or forced on him by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), it illustrates Indian society’s twisted understanding of “violence”. The line first appears when Achu’s father hits his other daughter for marrying a man of her choice; and later when a male collegemate attempts to intimidate Achu, only to be punched by Jaffer.

It seems not to matter to anyone involved that before Achu’s Dad struck her elder sister, considerable time in the film had been devoted to trivialising sexual harassment while Achu longs for her breasts to attract random lewd men. While the father physically attacking a daughter elicits these words of censure on screen, what is one to say of the romanticisation of that later scene in which the same father denies another daughter her agency and is cruel to the man she loves? Or the fact that Jaffer, who seeks to protect Achu from a sexual predator, is predatory towards other women? For the record, this horrific film has been awarded the mildest available CBFC rating: U, which means it has been deemed fit for viewing by children.

If this were a non-descript venture it would be a separate matter, but Kaamuki has the redoubtable Aparna Balamurali playing Achu. Ever since this young star sparkled as Jimsy in the memorable Maheshinte Prathikaram (2016), I have been silently willing Mollywood to give her the central role in a quality film worthy of her, longing to see her in a heroine-led film about her character’s prathikaram, her swargarajyam, her suvisheshangal, her premalekhanam, her Edanthottam – the sort that tends to orbit men and routinely falls into the laps of male actors who are as talented or far less than she is.

No doubt the trailer and first half of Kaamuki revolve around her, but a woman-centric project such as this is as harmful to women as a male-centric film with the same mindset, since the director and indulgent audience members in the case of the former are likely to use the importance given to its heroine as a defence against charges of anti-women prejudice (just as the mere decision to have a blind man as the hero might be held up as a shield against criticism of this film’s horrendous treatment of disability). No Binu S., making Achamma dance in a mundu or getting her to say she wants a man for fun and not for love – “You mean premam? Athu okke veliye thalavedneyaa (That stuff’s a big headache). Only entertainment.” – does not absolve you of your misogyny.

Aparna Balamurali, how could you degrade yourself by signing up for Kaamuki?

Rating (out of five stars): -10 Stars

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	138 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/kaamuki-movie-review-oh-aparna-balamurali-what-were-you-thinking-4484205.html

Posters courtesy: IMDB