REVIEW 766: ANJAAM PATHIRAA

Release date:	Kerala: January 10, 2020 Delhi: January 24, 2020
Director:	Midhun Manuel Thomas
Cast: Language:	Kunchacko Boban, Sreenath Bhasi, Unnimaya Prasad, Jinu Joseph, Indrans, Remya Nambeesan, Jaffer Idukki, Sharaf U Dheen, Nikhila Vimal, Mathew Thomas, Nandhana Varma, Divya Gopinath Malayalam with Tamil

When the Kochi Police becomes the target of a shadowy serial killer, DCP Catherine Maria (Unnimaya Prasad) goes all guns blazing into the investigation. ACP Anil Madhavan (Jinu Joseph) persuades her to rope in the psychologist Anwar Hussain (Kunchacko Boban) who is pursuing a PhD on criminal minds. Anwar in turn bullies a young hacker called Andrew (Sreenath Bhasi) to help the team. Together they set off on the trail of a criminal with a modus operandi they have never before encountered. 

The murders in Anjaam Pathiraa (The Fifth Midnight) are intriguing. I found myself on the edge of my seat throughout, scared on behalf of every Kochi police person I spotted wandering down a lonely street or into a darkened room on screen. Writer-director Midhun Manuel Thomas (may I call you MMT, please?) keeps the twists constantly flowing, and even when weaknesses in the writing of the investigation rear their head, the consistent tone and tempo ensure that the narrative remains engaging.

Those weaknesses cannot be ignored, of course. Certain details are left unexplained or under-explained (I had to struggle to recall the reason why – no spoilers here – Anwar connected that toy to the serial killings), the title sounds nice but in retrospect feels contrived, some of the discussions among the police are banal, the English lines are often drab and at least one leap of the imagination is made during the probe with no logic to back it.

Some of the Kochi Police’s screw-ups in this film are highly believable, a reflection of the poor training, pathetic infrastructure, inefficiency and inherent apathy of police forces across India in real life (and are pointed out as such during conversations in the film). One mistake though seems to have gone unnoticed by the writer himself. Imagine tracking a serial killer and not immediately looking for a link between the victims. DCP Catherine and her colleagues do not, and no eyebrows are raised about it.

Frankly, Catherine seems to have been inserted into the script merely to pre-empt any criticism that Anjaam Pathiraa is an all-male scenario. She is there, and she is the boss, but she is pretty useless, spending much of her time helplessly asking the men around her what is going on. On the only occasion when she comes up with a plan, it is stupid on the face of it and not surprisingly leads to disaster. Another policewoman (played by Divya Gopinath) has been thrown in for good measure as a bit-part player, which would have been fine if Catherine had been better written. C’mon MMT, give us convincing, well-fleshed-out policewomen next time rather than tokenism.

Mostly what Catherine does by way of action is stand around issuing brisk instructions that make her seem busy and in charge, while Anwar and Andrew get the job done, serving as yet another reminder that even Mollywood’s otherwise-admirable parallel cinema movement is more comfortable telling stories of men. This is particularly ironic because the larger plot of Anjaam Pathiraa is driven by gender sensitivity.

It is a measure of MMT’s directorial skills that he succeeds in sustaining interest even through these uneven stretches. Besides, in other areas there is some smart writing on display here, including with the red herrings strewn around but not forgotten in the end. All complaints recede into the background anyway when the startling, heart-rending back story to the crimes is revealed.

It is frustrating that to avoid spoilers I cannot tell you exactly why this film is gutsy. Suffice it to say that MMT takes on an organisation that is powerful in Kerala and is justifiably shamed in Anjaam Pathiraa for its actions and inaction in response to alleged crimes by its functionaries.

Courage combined with MMT’s storytelling and a crew to match make Anjaam Pathiraa a winner. Cinematographer Shyju Khalid here does not employ a single one of the clichés that are staples in formulaic Indian thrillers: no jerks, no sudden movements around corners, no overt manipulation of the audience. His camerawork for this film, his low-lit frames and dreary gray-black-white palette with red and yellow appearing as ominous intrusions create an atmosphere of foreboding and ultimately, great sorrow. Khalid’s choices are a perfect fit for MMT’s own non-sensationalist, non-voyeuristic approach to the tragedies and extreme violence featured in the written material.

Sushin Shyam’s affecting music is put to good use by the director – it is there only when necessary, and then too not over-used. Considering that Anjaam Pathiraa comes to Delhi in the same week as the Mammootty starrer Shylock, it has soothed my troubled ears just recovering from that film’s deafening background score. Gratitude to Mr Shyam. Also to sound designers Vishnu Govind and Sree Shankar.

The ensemble cast is a reliable lot. Kunchacko Boban as Anwar brings his trademark sincerity to the role of an unhero-like hero who must keep his head on his shoulders during his first full-fledged murder investigation and grapple with his emotions on discovering unnerving truths. Sreenath Bhasi as an unscrupulous nerd lends just the right touch of youthful mischief to his character. Unnimaya Prasad is saddled with the one badly written role in the script, but saves Catherine from the brink with her earnestness.

Remya Nambeesan and Divya Gopinath are the only actors who are completely wasted in Anjaam Pathiraa. The casting director’s triumph lies in the careful selection of known and brilliant artistes for significant roles in the second half that give them barely a few seconds or minutes of screen time but must (and do) remain memorable all the same.

MMT’s filmography so far has been marked by light-hearted entertainers with a point to make. There is nothing light-hearted about Anjaam Pathiraa. Nothing conventional either. In fact, the first half seems intentionally designed to lull viewers into assuming that it is just a suspenseful whodunnit, its wacko antagonist teasing the police with a signature – clever but done before in different ways. It left me completely unprepared for that second half, drenched in a beautiful sadness, brave and deeply disturbing.

Anjaam Pathiraa may not be perfect, but oh my goodness, it is special.

Rating (out of 5 stars): 3.5

CBFC Rating (India):	UA
Running time:	144 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/anjaam-pathiraa-movie-review-a-brave-sensitive-thriller-with-a-startling-heart-rending-back-story-7960611.html

Posters courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/MidhunManuelThomas/          

REVIEW 702: VIRUS

Release date:	June 7, 2019
Director:	Aashiq Abu
Cast: Language:	Parvathy, Kunchacko Boban, Tovino Thomas, Rima Kallingal, Sreenath Bhasi, Revathy, Joju George, Indrajith Sukumaran, Asif Ali, Indrans, Sharafudheen, Soubin Shahir, Dileesh Pothan, Rahman, Madonna Sebastian, Sajitha Madathil, Leona Lishoy, Darshana Rajendran, Remya Nambeesan Malayalam

The last time Aashiq Abu released a film, it left in its wake a beautiful pain that is yet to subside and a heartache that may never go away. One and half years after Mayaanadhi came to theatres, Abu is out with his next. Virus is a medical thriller cum medical/government/bureaucratic procedural featuring a constellation of some of Malayalam cinema’s biggest stars coming together to recount the successful containment of the dreaded Nipah virus in Kerala last year. 

It is a measure of the high esteem in which Abu is held in the Malayalam film industry that he was able to gather so many stars for a single project though each one gets limited screen time, no character in particular is projected as a protagonist and though the star-studded ensemble film is not common in Mollywood.

Virus firms up the director’s reputation for prioritising theme over stars, by not being a Garry Marshall-style, Valentine’s Day-type venture in which the casting was a gimmick and the result an unremarkable game of spot-the-famous-face. Here in Virus, Abu’s deployment of these big-screen luminaries guarantees memorability for each character. It also serves to underline the points that in the giant battle against Nipah even the seemingly smallest player’s actions could have meant the difference between life and death, no cog in the wheel was/is minor, and the state’s quietly diligent politicians, bureaucrats, healthcare professionals, ordinary citizens and all others involved are/were superstars no less than the glitzy artistes playing fictionalised versions of them in this film.

The investment in casting then is a tribute to these real-life heroines and heroes including Nipah’s victims, many of whom contracted the disease through an act of kindness.

The closest companion to Virus I can think of among the films I have watched is Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion (2011) starring Kate Winslet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Matt Damon, Laurence Fishburne and several other Western cinema heavyweights, and set in the midst of a worldwide epidemic. The underlying socio-political themes in Contagion were very different though. Besides, that film was fictional and dealt in hypotheticals, Virus actually happened. Just recently. In our own country. And we have failed to recognise how those of us living just a couple of state borders away from Kerala came within a whisper of being affected by what could have ended up being a nationwide tragedy.

Virus takes us through those tension-ridden days in the summer of 2018 when the deadly Nipah surfaced in Kozhikode and Malappuram districts. As the potentially fatal infection begins to spread, the state’s health minister (Kerala’s K.K. Shailaja, named C.K. Prameela here and played by Revathy) gathers a team of officials, medicos and volunteers to investigate its origins and stem its spread. 

With clinical efficiency reflective of the methodical manner in which disease control must perforce be conducted if it is to be effective, Virus goes about its business of painstakingly chronicling their painstaking work. The wonderment of seeing so many big names in successive frames and often together wears off within minutes, as it becomes clear that there is nothing flashy about this film and that its story is supreme. 

The news media has reported that Kerala earned kudos from domestic and international quarters for its handling of Nipah last year. What Virus does is inspire a sense of awe at the realisation of how much must have gone on behind the scenes and how much else could have gone wrong if any individual in the entire exercise had set one toe wrong. 

In some senses it plays out like a suspense drama, although we know that the outbreak did not ultimately turn into an epidemic. The tenterhooks emanate from a question, investigated meticulously by Parvathy’s character – how did the first victim in this episode get infected? – and because of the pushes and pulls between the state and Central governments in Abu’s take on what transpired away from the media spotlight. 

(Minor spoiler alert for this paragraph)

Virus is particularly intriguing because of what it states and implies about the Centre-state tussle. What were the sources from whom the film’s writers got their information? If this account is indeed accurate or even if creative licence is at work here then, among other things, Virus is a chilling reminder of the pandemic of prejudice spreading across today’s world, as lethal perhaps as any known microbe.

(Spoiler alert ends)

With its multi-strand, non-linear narrative style, hyperlinking back and forth from one thread to another then back to an earlier one, the director – aided by Muhsin Parari, Sharfu and Suhas’ say-it-like-it-is, no-frills-attached writing and Saiju Sreedharan’s masterful editing – has the film trotting along at an unrelenting yet simultaneously miraculously unrushed pace.

Abu does not resort to artificial highlights to stress the urgency of the job at hand but does not in any way underplay it either. It is what it is – the viewer is not so stupid as to need a loud background score, drumrolls and dramatic camera movements to recognise an emergency. Sushin Shyam’s minimal music, for one, is used sparingly and, as a consequence, to striking effect. Rajeev Ravi’s cinematography supplemented by Shyju Khalid captures in no-nonsense documentary style the goings-on in Virus. With such extraordinary collaborators at hand, Abu manages to infuse the film with a sedateness that mirrors the calm Prameela/Shailaja and her associates seek to instil in the fearful populace.

A word here about the subtitling by Rajeev Ramachandran. Most subtitled Indian films treat subs merely as translations for the benefit of those who do not know the language in which the film has been made. Virus heads down a path that some outside India have already taken, by caring about the hearing impaired too. There is little awareness in India about this, which is why you often see even well-meaning people grumbling about how subs are distracting (for instance, “why does an English film need English subtitles?”) – I confess I had not given this matter much thought until one of my students lost her hearing a few years back and I was compelled to think in this direction. The couple of spelling mistakes in Virus’ subs and repeated use of the ungrammatical “tensed” (it should be “I am tense”, please) feel minor in comparison with its consideration towards a largely neglected community. So if you find yourself getting irritated because Virus’ subtitles describe ambient sounds, the tone of the background music and so on in addition to explaining dialogues, do keep this in mind.

Virus’ dissection of Kerala’s response to Nipah in 2018 offers an ocean of insights into the interconnectedness of our species with the entire animal kingdom, how crisis can bring out the best and worst in human beings, how trigger-happy governments could turn even a health issue into a communal conflagration, how humankind is forever teetering on the edge of inhumanity and held back by the best among us, and much more. What would have made it complete would have been an examination of human interference with nature that is triggering calamities earlier rare or unheard of.

The film is determined not to villainise scared citizens, but it does not pedestalise anyone either. Parvathy’s Dr Annu, for instance, is admirable for her beaver-like diligence but in a scene in which she interrogates a man who may be dying, we see her dedication to her job overriding – perhaps unintentionally – the need for extreme gentleness in such circumstances.

In C.K. Prameela and Kozhikode Collector Paul Abraham (Tovino Thomas) we see a lesson in how great leadership is about constantly putting out small fires. And through the Manipal Institute of Virology’s Dr Suresh Rajan (Kunchacko Boban) we are forced to also see that preparing yourself for the worst while hoping for the best does not necessarily mean you are a bad person or even a cynic, it could be that you are simply realistic.

Wittingly or unwittingly, especially while linking the stories of the policeman Prakash (Dileesh Pothan) and the no-hoper Unnikrishnan (Soubin Shahir), Virus also throws light on what Hindi bhaashis call a chalta-hai (casual) attitude in Indian society and systems that begs for disasters to happen.

Aashiq Abu has been at the forefront of the new parallel cinema movement that has blossomed in Mollywood in the past decade, but Virus – which he has co-produced with Rima Kallingal – is a whole new level of achievement. In an India of thin skins and combustible sensitivities, it is also courageous in the way it risks something that most of this country’s quality filmmakers avoid: it recounts recent history. This is a minutely observant, unobtrusively educative and moving ode to unsung stars, the triumph of the team and the strength of the human spirit.

Rating (out of five stars): ****1/2

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	152 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/virus-movie-review-aashiq-abus-ingeniously-clinical-yet-emotional-ode-to-keralas-successful-nipah-battle-6778161.html

Posters courtesy:

https://www.facebook.com/virusthemovie/