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 691: ORU YAMANDAN PREMAKADHA

Release date:	April 25, 2019
Director:	B.C. Naufal
Cast: Language:	Dulquer Salmaan, Vishnu Unnikrishnan, Salim Kumar, Soubin Shahir, Samyuktha Menon, Nikhila Vimal, Renji Panicker, Bibin George, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Lena, Akshara Kishor, Sunil Sukhada, Dileesh Pothan, Dharmajan Bolgatty, Hareesh Perumanna, Arun Kurian Malayalam

It must be tough being Dulquer Salmaan. On the one hand, you are a fine actor keen to work in intelligent films and be a part of the Malayalam industry’s increasing ability to make blockbusters out of sensible cinema. On the other hand, you have the looks and personality to possibly pull off those stereotypical larger-than-life characters that the senior male megastars of your industry, including your Dad, have played for decades and that continue to earn crores. The factors that recently persuaded your usually unconventional contemporary Nivin Pauly to waste himself on Mikhael must be at play in your life too. I can only imagine a zillion voices trying to coax you to go the way of The Great Father, Lucifer and Mikhael.

Hear ye Your Royal Cuteness, Your Majesty Prince of the Malayalam Realm, Explorer of Kingdoms Beyond, Actor Par Excellence, Knight of the Handsome Face and Sweet Smile, if Oru Yamandan Premakadha reveals anything to a long-time viewer of your work, it is that the likes of Ustad Hotel, Kammatipaadam and Kali are your natural habitat – your reluctance to head in the opposite direction shows.

Readers should not misunderstand: to be fair to Oru Yamandan Premakadha (A Massive/Powerful Love Story), it is far from being the excruciating experience that The Great Father, Lucifer and Mikhael were. When it gets loud it is not as loud, when it is clichéd it is still not insufferable. What it is though is neither here nor there.

Oru Yamandan Premakadha (OYP) is an obvious effort by writers Bibin George and Vishnu Unnikrishnan (who earlier collaborated on Amar Akbar Anthony and Kattappanayile Rithwik Roshan) along with director B.C. Naufal to be ruminative while trying to achieve the magnitude of Mollywood’s megabucks formula films. Sorry gentlemen, but those ruminations are downright ridiculous and the shot at appearing thoughtful is in any case overshadowed by the attempt to scale up.

Dulquer Salmaan / DQ’s decision to pick this film is at one level inexplicable, because it truly is a silly script. At another level though, when viewed solely in the context of its tenor and the size of its canvas, the choice suggests a hesitation to go all-out low-key like his colleague Fahadh Faasil, even as he steers clear of formulaic rubbish.

DQ plays OYP’s Lallu, the happy-go-lucky son of a rich lawyer (Renji Panicker). The young man cares nothing for the comforts his father’s wealth can buy. He prefers leftovers from a friend’s kitchen over food from an expensive hotel, paints houses instead of opting for a high-flying corporate career of the sort his younger brother (Arun Kurian) has gone in for, and hangs out with men who his Dad considers below their station. 

Lallu has three constant companions. Teny (Vishnu Unnikrishnan) earns a living as a bad karaoke singer on the streets and is blind. The elderly widowed alcoholic Panjikuttan (Salim Kumar) is a house painting contractor. Soubin Shahir plays a man anxious to hook up with any woman who will have him.

All the girls in town have been smitten by Lallu since he was a boy, but Lallu was and is determined only to be with a woman with whom he shares a “spark” at first sight. One such angelic creature does come along at one point, but the film has meandered about for sooooo long till then and everything that follows thereafter is so stupid that it is impossible to care.

At first there are a few laughs to be had at the expense of Lallu and his buddies. Pretty soon, however, the humour peters out and the script keeps jumping from one unconnected thought to another, feeling quite vacuous after a while. If the idea is to dwell on the many unexpected and unexplained cross connections in human relations, to make a point that even the most seemingly insignificant person serves a purpose in life, then the point is poorly made. If the idea is to tickle our funny bones, then it barely works.

OYP is filled with running jokes that range from funny-at-first-but-ruined-by-repetition to downright unfunny, distasteful and/or dull, dull, dull. Like the thread about a roadside eatery owner (Hareesh Perumanna) who is so bad at Maths that he cannot calculate what his patrons owe him and therefore does not charge them. Yawn. Or that other thread involving a jobless twosome (Dharmajan Bolgatty is one of them) seated outside and talking non-stop. Yawn. Or the emaciated-looking fellow who struggles to catch fish and who is incessantly taunted for his skinniness, which includes being addressed as “onangiya sraavey” (dried-up shark). Err, nasty! Or Lallu’s repeated use of “omana kutti” in place of “ok”. Umm, no ya, trying too hard to be cho-chweet and cash in on the actor’s own omana-kuttan-ness. As for Lallu’s full name that is revealed only in the final scene, it is such a yawn, yawn, yawn. Some of these motifs have potential, but the writers fail to flesh them out well.

There are other more grave refrains in OYP that are no doubt meant to be profound, but are no less ineffectual. Like the one featuring the villainous Davis (Bibin George), a mysterious chap with a physical disability who is haunted by Mommy issues and who keeps appearing, disappearing and reappearing. Whatever.

Then there is the passing reference to a “vanitha mathil” (women’s wall), the third time in a month now that I have heard a Malayalam film make a wisecrack about the human chain formed in Kerala earlier this year as a symbol of solidarity in the women’s rights movement. Unlike the misogynistic potshots in Mera Naam Shaji and Madhuraraja, the mention in OYP is not cutting – it is meaningless. Still, the fact that the mathil is repeatedly being brought up in popular culture with pretended nonchalance indicates just how much it has disturbed the men of this patriarchal industry. There is a separate and long discussion to be had here.

That said, everything that is wrong with OYP – including its rather bizarre, mixed-up comment on the (un)importance of education – is put in the shade by the writers’ deathly serious conviction that a human being could fall deeply in love with someone they have only seen in a photograph. This is not portrayed as a mere attraction but as a profound, life-altering love.

The supporting cast of OYP is packed with familiar faces, but in the face of such uninspiring writing, most deliver generic performances. Suraj Venjaramoodu, Lena and Dileesh Pothan invest more of themselves in the film than it deserves. Two striking women who have already proved that they are solid artistes – Nikhila Vimal (Njan Prakashan) and Samyuktha Menon (Theevandi) – are squandered here as showpieces in a plot pinned entirely on the male protagonist.

DQ looks good in lungis and is charming of course, but even his charm cannot hold up nearly three hours of exhausting wanderings. Your Royal Handsomeness, whatchadoin' with this lousy script? A better name for it would have been Oru Mundane Premakadha.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	165 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/oru-yamandan-premakadha-movie-review-his-royal-cuteness-dulquer-salmaan-gets-a-script-that-is-just-so-meh-6528861.html

Poster courtesy:

https://www.facebook.com/DQSalmaan/