Showing posts with label Ee.Ma.Yau.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ee.Ma.Yau.. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

REVIEW 737: JALLIKATTU


Release date:
Kerala: October 4, 2019
Delhi: October 18, 2019
Director:
Lijo Jose Pellissery
Cast:


Language:
Chemban Vinod Jose, Antony Varghese, Sabumon Abdusamad, Santhy Balachandran, Jaffer Idukki
Malayalam


Jallikattu is the sort of film that gores its way into the brain and rips right through pre-conceived notions of what constitutes cinema. 

As alive as the beast being hunted on screen through most of its crisp one-and-a-half hours running time, the film pulsates with an infectious, unrelenting energy that is both exhausting and exhilarating, enervating yet invigorating. 

It is violent, but – a distinction that populist filmmakers like Sandeep Reddy Vanga (Arjun Reddy, Kabir Singh) refuse to acknowledge – it is not a celebration of violence. Far from it. It is also one of the most intriguing, beautifully impertinent works to emerge from Indian filmdom this year, brought to us by one of contemporary India’s most intriguing, beautifully impertinent filmmakers. 

Lijo Jose Pellissery’s Jallikattu is set in a remote Kerala village where a buffalo goes berserk on escaping an attempt at slaughter by local butchers Antony (Antony Varghese) and Varkey (Chemban Vinod Jose). The beast runs amok through fields, plantations and human habitations, spurring the men of the community to give chase. This happens in the aftermath of a young man exacting revenge on another in a seething rivalry over a woman they both lust after, a local policeman getting violent with his wife, and other conflicts that continue to play out while the buffalo wreaks havoc on people’s bodies and property. 

Jallikattu is written by R. Jayakumar and S. Hareesh, based on the short story Maoist by Hareesh. The title is drawn from the highly controversial, bloody sport popular in Tamil Nadu, in which bulls are released into human crowds that are challenged to physically subdue the creatures. Pellissery and his colleagues turn that description on its head as the men in their film mine their basest instincts to defeat the buffalo. Many of them simultaneously use this battle as a camouflage for and an outlet to vent other simmering internal struggles, such that it becomes hard to distinguish between the four-legged animal and the primitive, feral bipeds hot on its heels. 


In this charged atmosphere, men do not merely speak, they shout, scream, growl and almost spit words out at each other and at the women in their lives. When one such brute attacks a woman (played by Santhy Balachandran), he buries his head in her body, hissing and snarling like a predator hungry for meat. She resists vehemently, but her subsequent calm conversation with him about a mundane matter is a chilling metaphor for the normalisation of sexual violence in our society and the manner in which women condition themselves to gather their wits about them in the face of male bestiality because of the frequency with which they are subjected to such savagery. 

Jallikattu remains focused on the ferocious male of the species, but not without reminding us in the briefest of scenes that women themselves may appear calmer but are not above running a dagger through other women whose choices they resent or condemn. 

Pellissery’s narrative plunges into action from the get-go, using the rhythm of the human breath, the flaming red of the title, the activity at a crowded meat shop, random banter and seemingly extraneous sub-plots to create an electric sense of anticipation before the animal runs riot. 

Renganaath Ravee’s sound design intermittently draws drumbeats from every available element in the ambient audioscape, ranging from the laboured inhalations and exhalations of an old man, knives striking animal flesh, the buffalo’s hooves and the mob in its wake. Prashant Pillai’s music cuts in at intervals to inject further adrenaline into the proceedings. Combined with Deepu Joseph’s brisk editing and Gireesh Gangadharan’s unapologetic though non-exploitative cinematography, this gives Jallikattu a narrative flow so unyielding that it would take one of Varkey or Antony’s meat cleavers to slice through the tension that hangs thick in the air. 

Pellissery has built a reputation as a non-conformist since his debut almost a decade back. 2017’s Angamaly Diaries and last year’s Ee.Ma.Yau. earned him a well-deserved cult following nationwide. He has a unique ability to ask uncomfortable questions through cinema that nevertheless yields unbridled entertainment. Jallikattu is as much a courageous socio-political essay, a gutsy cultural critique that is unafraid to tap religious iconography and an allegory for the devolution of men over the ages, as it is an exciting, hormonally charged thriller. 

Men giving in to their most primeval urges make for a horrifying spectacle. Yet, as in life, in Jallikattu too it is fascinating to watch their inability to spot the self-destructive turn they take in their bid to dominate women and the planet. 

Rating (out of five stars): ****

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Monday, May 21, 2018

REVIEW 601: EE.MA.YAU.

Release date:
Kerala: May 4, Delhi: May 18, 2018
Director:
Lijo Jose Pellissery
Cast:


Language:
Chemban Vinod Jose, Vinayakan, Pouly Valsan, Dileesh Pothan, Kainakiri Thankaraj, Arya K.S., Krishna Padmakumar    
Malayalam


For a city kid, there is nothing more amusing or revelatory about rural life than a death in the family, complete with rituals, ritualistic wailing and more. Growing up in Delhi as I did, my earliest education in the way country folk react to the demise of an acquaintance or relative came with the loss of my beloved grandfather who was in Kerala at the time. I can never forget the bawling and chest-beating by a particular household help called Pathumma who, while no doubt fond of the man we all called Appachan, seemed to be moved to hollering out weird weepy tributes only in the first few minutes of the arrival of each fresh batch of guests paying their respects to him, relapsing magically into normalcy and even laughter immediately after. I watched goggle-eyed and listened as an entire mountainside reverberated with shrieks of “ Ende Appacho, the last time you spoke to me you asked me for biryani, but I did not make it. Now when will I ever get a chance to cook for youuuuuu?” etc etc.
 
My late aunt could summon up similar bouts of yelping and crying with every new visitor to her home for months after the loss of her husband.

Memories of Pathumma and my aunt came flooding back as I watched Lijo Jose Pellissery’s Ee.Ma.Yau. written by P.F. Mathews, the story of an impoverished man who promises his father impressive last rites just minutes before the old chap passes away. It would be easy to adopt a lampooning tone in such a tale, but Pellissery and Mathews are never patronising or reductive in their portrayal of characters and circumstances here. The result is a delightful slice of reality among a small community in a coastal village in Kerala and an unexpected overview of larger existential questions.
 
Chemban Vinod Jose plays Eeshi, son of the elderly alcoholic Vavachan (Kainakiri Thankaraj) who is in the habit of disappearing from home for long stretches of time. We realise there is more to his disappearances than eccentricity when, upon his latest return, we learn that his daughter-in-law Sabeth, short for Elizabeth (Arya K.S.), intends to spike his food with something she expects will keep him in check.
 

Vavachan’s wife Pennamma (Pouly Valsan) approves of the plan. Eeshi’s younger sister Nisa, short for Agnes (Krishna Padmakumar), is too wrapped up in a clandestine love affair to notice what they are up to.
 
When Vavachan collapses in the middle of a drinking and dancing session with Eeshi, his death sets off a chain of occurrences that offer a highly entertaining, sobering study of the community.
 
Ee.Ma.Yau. (short for Eesho Mariyam Yauseppe a.k.a. Jesus, Mary and Joseph) is a prayer for and a salutation to the dying and the dead used by certain sections of Malayali Christians. With this choice of title, Pellissery has once and for all shown that he was genuinely indifferent to the ludicrous review of his otherwise widely acclaimed Angamaly Diaries (2017) by a Malayalam TV channel believed to be close to the RSS, in which the critic objected to what he considered a surfeit of Christian imagery albeit in a film with a Christian leading man.
 
Angamaly Diaries created waves nationwide, revealing to cinephiles outside Kerala what viewers within the state already knew: that Pellissery is an acute observer of human behaviour. The director brings the same quality to Ee.Ma.Yau., offering viewers a satirical take on Eeshi’s funeral preps without ever allowing the comedy to descend into insensitivity even when people around him do.
 
Actor Chemban Vinod Jose, who made a smashing writing debut with Angamaly Diaries, displays his acting versatility as Eeshi here. His deadpan heartbreak at his father’s sudden death is vastly removed from his villainous turn in the recent Swathanthriyam Ardharathriyil, or his menacing, spine-chilling appearance as a vengeful, lustful creep in 2016’s Kali.

Other familiar faces in the cast include Vinayakan as Eeshi’s fond friend and Dileesh Pothan as the local priest with a proclivity for crime sagas. Both are characteristically excellent.


The rest of the cast are not stars, but they, like the established names, act as if they are real people written into a film script and being shot without their knowledge. Pouly Valsan as Eeshi’s mother comes up with a delicious take on a woman forced by social expectations to publicly, vociferously mourn an unfaithful spouse and using the opportunity to vent some steam. 

Constantly present in the background are two unidentified characters who nonchalantly play cards and chat while mayhem unfolds around them, a metaphorical representation of the unending cycle of life and death in the village. 

The other witness to the unstoppability of nature is Shyju Khalid’s camera which appears unconstrained although the action in Ee.Ma.Yau. revolves largely around Vavachan’s lifeless body. Khalid’s cinematography makes the film’s locales a pulsating presence in the plot. From that spectacular opening shot of an extravagant funeral procession on a pristine beach accompanying the credits, to the more unassuming, everyday frames within and outside the dead man’s home, to two particularly luscious shots of coconut palm tops swaying in the breeze, Khalid swings seamlessly from the lavish to the modest, aided by Deepu Joseph’s slick editing shorn of unnecessary flourishes. Together they ensure that we are aware of the beauty of the surroundings without ever allowing their glorious grandeur to overwhelm the emotional core of Ee.Ma.Yau.

Prashant Pillai’s music is sparingly employed but supremely effective when it is. Renganaath Ravee’s sound design is rich in detail though understated, especially in the use of rain as yet another reminder of the constancy of nature irrespective of the games humans play.
 
The technical polish in Ee.Ma.Yau. serves its purpose by enabling some great storytelling. By finding laughter in morbid situations and social commentary in the unlikeliest of places, in the tradition of other fine funeral films, Pellissery fashions Ee.Ma.Yau. into a keenly observant, fabulously funny insight into the politics, economics and theatrics around death.

Rating (out of five stars): ****

CBFC Rating (India):
Running time:
120 minutes 

This review has also been published on Firstpost: