REVIEW 667: IRUPATHIYONNAAM NOOTTAANDU

Release date:	January 25, 2018
Director:	Arun Gopy
Cast: Language:	Pranav Mohanlal, Zaya David, Abhirav Janan, Manoj K. Jayan, Siddique, Innocent, Kalabhavan Shajohn, Dharmajan Bolgatty Malayalam

Having spent most of the second half of Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu (Twenty First Century) warning us of the possibility of violence by Malayali Christians because of an unusual Christian-Hindu romance (I cannot explain why it is unusual without giving spoilers), writer-director Arun Gopy appears to have gotten worried that he might be offending Kerala’s Christians. So, he gives a character a throwaway line about how Hindus too are angry about the relationship for a vague reason. The transparent, half-hearted and awkwardly written effort to compensate for what he fears may be seen as a lack of balance might have been excusable, if it weren’t for a later scene – also designed to pacify the Christian community, I guess – in which a bishop (played by Innocent) is shown admonishing a paedophile rapist Christian fellow with these words: it is after people like you started coming to confession that our priests went astray. Whaaaaaat? That is like blaming prison inmates if the prison superintendent takes to crime.

This aspect of Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu is only one demonstration of Gopy’s strained writing, poor understanding of the social realities he is trying to cover, the resultant insensitivity and cluelessness of his screenplay. Sadly, the basic concept of the film has potential, but it required greater imagination and talent to expand it into a full-length feature.

Gopy – who earlier made the entertaining but politically questionable Ramaleela starring Dileep – has been credited for the story, screenplay, dialogues and direction, so there is no possibility of apportioning blame to anyone else. The mish-mash in Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu is entirely his.

The first half of the story is set wholly in Goa, the second half in Kerala. Appu (Pranav Mohanlal) and Zaya (Rachel David a.k.a. Zaya David) meet in Goa, bond and are separated by personal compulsions. Before that happens though, right at the start there is a confrontation between Appu’s father Baba played by Manoj K. Jayan and the gangster Abusikka (Kalabhavan Shajohn), which reveals that Baba was once a dreaded chap of great disrepute who is now a financially constrained, toned-down version of his former self. This opening passage is stretched long enough and later referenced often enough to suggest that it has some relevance to the film’s larger plot, but it does not.

The proceedings then shift to a beach that is Appu’s habitat, where he surfs waves like a champ and is gazed at with admiration by white women. The latter happens more than once, so you know that Gopy belongs to the school of thought that there is no greater compliment to an Indian man than the interest of a white woman.

Cut to the build-up of Zaya as an oddly wild, bubbly creature, the kind of young woman that exists more in the imagination of film writers than in reality. There is little chemistry between Mohanlal Junior and Ms David, but since they have been assigned the posts of hero and heroine here, Appu and Zaya fall in love.

Cut to post-interval, where the action moves to Kerala and the genre shifts completely to action thriller. The switch in tone is so complete, that it feels like a different film.

Somewhere in between, Gokul Suresh turns up to deliver a brief sermon on Communist ideals.

If I haven’t made myself clear, let me state it in black and white: Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu meanders to such an extent that it feels like a hotch-potch of themes and situations rather than a single, smoothly flowing narrative.

To be fair to Gopy, his film is not bereft of positives. For one, Appu’s best friend Michael Rony (nicknamed Macroni and Maakri, the latter being the Malayalam word for frog) is often funny when he is not being creepy about and towards women. I particularly keeled over with laughter at his wisecrack about bishops who climb convent walls. While he is good, actor Abhirav Janan’s comic timing is commendable.

Dharmajan Bolgatty in a brief appearance is also quite hilarious.

Besides, cinematographer Abinandhan Ramanujam gives us many generous shots of the scenery in Goa and Kerala (though I suspect most of his day-time shots of Goa have been inexorably colour corrected, which is what robs them of their natural feel).

And the twist at the interval has promise. The impact of sexual abuse on the human psyche and the self-harm a person might do as a result of such trauma is certainly worth exploring. It just needs to be explored by a more introspective and socially aware writer. Without that, what you get is a film that is pretending to care but inadvertently reveals its apathy and ignorance intermittently.

Such as with that inexplicable line uttered by the bishop.

Such as when a character towards whom the screenplay is well disposed holds off on helping a woman who is being assaulted and calmly watches as she is slapped, explaining to his friend that “she deserved one slap”. Why? Because on an earlier occasion, in a temper she had told him she can take care of herself.

Such as when Zaya, on being denied a drink by Appu because she is already drunk, says, “Chummathalla feministakal undagunna,” (no wonder people become feminists), thus betraying the writer’s interpretation of feminism – an interpretation widely held by mindless folk and misogynists – as some sort of worldwide movement to give women the right to drink and smoke.

Such as when a major character taunts a rape survivor for what he considers her lack of courage to take a stand and her inability to trust people.

Such as... Well, never mind. You get the picture.

It is no wonder, that apart from Janan and Bolgatty, the rest of the cast delivers uninspired performances. Kalabhavan Shajohn is almost unrecognisable behind those massive sunglasses, and far from being the intimidating, imposing gangsta he is meant to be. Manoj K. Jayan tries but fails to inject energy into the narrative. Innocent is almost amusing as the bishop.

Rachel David is pretty and does a tolerable job of Zaya, but she is also somewhat generic.

Pranav Mohanlal is lucky he made his debut with last year’s Aadhi, which brought out his innate sweetness and gave him a ton of thrilling action scenes in which he shone. In Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu, he comes across as uncharismatic, which makes the writer’s effort to build him up as a hunk almost ironic. Besides, the fight scenes in the climax are marred by abysmal special effects – the worst I have seen in a Mollywood film in a very long time. 

If he wishes to be known as anything more than the son of megastar Mohanlal, Pranav needs to choose better scripts and to avoid the repeated allusions to his father in them. It was bad enough that the vastly superior Aadhi chose to rub his lineage in our faces, but when it happens again in his second film, a bad film at that, it is decidedly irritating. There is that Ray-Ban sunglasses and mundu scene, in a bow to a style popularly associated with Mohanlal. There is the title, which has absolutely no connection with the storyline and seems to have been picked only for the recall value of Mohanlal’s blockbuster Irupatham Noottandu (Twentieth Century). There is... Uff! Give it a break, please.

Irupathiyonnaam Noottaandu is more dangerous than overtly misogynistic films, because it fakes concern. It is also ordinary, mixed-up and completely lacks spark.

Footnote: Subtitlers of Malayalam films really must stop using the word “hag” as they do. During a highly sexist chat involving Macroni, in which a character refers to an elderly lady as “thalla”, the subtitles translate that to “hag”. This reminded me of a scene in Pretham in which “Ammachi”, when used as a pejorative, was also translated as “hag”. While both “thalla” and “Ammachi” used in this context are intended as sexist-ageist insults, “old woman” would be a more accurate translation than “hag” which is, to my mind, far more demeaning in terms of degree.

Rating (out of five stars): 3/4

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	163 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/irupathiyonnaam-noottaandu-movie-review-pranav-mohanlal-lacks-spark-as-does-this-meandering-insensitive-hotch-potch-5969281.html

Posters courtesy:

https://www.facebook.com/IrupathiyonnaamNoottaandu/

REVIEW 564: AADHI

Release date:	January 26, 2018
Director:	Jeethu Joseph
Cast: Language:	Pranav Mohanlal, Lena, Siddique, Anusree, Sharafudheen, Meghanathan, Jagapati Babu, Siju Wilson, Aditi Ravi, Tony Luke Malayalam

Late one night on the darkened terrace of a Bengaluru nightclub, three men engage in fisticuffs as a hapless woman tries to stop them. One of them suffers a fatal fall off the roof. To save himself from the dead chap’s influential millionaire father’s wrath, another member of the trio blames the death on the third man there, aspiring musician Aditya Mohan a.k.a. Aadhi.

What follows is over two hours of one of the most exciting rollercoaster rides ever to emerge from Malayalam cinema, as Aadhi ducks the police, a ruthless rich man’s wide network and the machinations of the fellow trying to protect himself. Writer-director Jeethu Joseph, who gave us the brilliant thriller Drishyam in 2013 (remade in four Indian languages), offers ample reparation here for his surprisingly slapdash Oozham released in 2016. Aadhi is marked by some clever writing, slick execution, top-notch production values and chases that are so frickin’ awesome, they rival the Bourne films although Mollywood works on a fraction of the budget of an average Hollywood venture.

The film looks good from the word go, but it begins with two needless reminders that its leading man, Pranav Mohanlal playing Aadhi, is the son of megastar Mohanlal. Pranav has acted as a child but this is his debut as an adult. First, we have the credits running over Aadhi in a club singing the title track of the 1980 film with which Lalettan made his debut, Manjil Virinja Pookkal. A few minutes later, Mohanlal himself makes a brief appearance.

While the quality of the shooting of the club scene and the rendition of that still-goosebump-inducing number are top notch, the need for either passage – especially the star cameo – is questionable. Hey we get it: Pranav has a famous Daddy. But to unnecessarily stress and re-stress that point within the narrative is to unnecessarily remind us that doors open far more easily for the son of Mohanlal than they would for the child of an unknown person which, while being true of course, is a disservice to the young man who shows us through Aadhi’s 2 hours and 38 minutes that he has the chops to stand on his own feet now that his surname has given him a headstart over his contemporaries. 

Aadhi’s early scenes establish the easy equation between the hero, his mother Rosy and father Mohan. Although the film is not positioned as a deeply intellectual affair, it is evident from then on that it does not intend to insult viewer intelligence either.

In the first conversation we witness between Aadhi and his mother, we learn that she is a Christian, the father a Hindu, and they eloped when Rosy was just 18. The inter-community marriage sans conversion (Rosy does not change her faith, as is usually expected of women in such situations) and the informal parent-child relationship suggest a liberal family. Yet, when Aadhi jokingly tells Rosy that he intends to bring home a Muslim bride to make a secular point, her face falls although she tries to camouflage her evident discomfort with the idea. That passing exchange is an unobtrusive reminder of how divided Kerala society truly is below the surface, even if it is better off than most of the rest of India in this matter.

Soon, the warmth of Aadhi’s home in Kerala is overtaken by the chill that follows that accidental death on a rooftop in Karnataka, and Aadhi’s musical prowess takes a backseat as life calls on him to make use of his training in the martial art form parkour. The effectiveness of this film comes from the impeccable balance it achieves between its breathtaking stunts and the emotional heft in the saga of a nice guy caught in a tragic situation not of his making, of supportive parents desperate to save him and strangers who step up to risk their all for him.

The basic nuts and bolts of the script may sound vaguely familiar, but the treatment is refreshing, the action unique in the Mollywood scenario and the film as a whole gloriously entertaining.

While the storyline tugs at the heartstrings, the chase sequences could put a heart patient at risk. Pranav and the artistes playing his enemies turn the film into an unrelenting adrenaline rush as they race through back alleys, sprint across rooftops, dangle from verandahs, vault over walls, leap through rather than around various other hurdles and display seemingly superhuman physical skills.

Yet, Aadhi is no superhero. His endearingly human qualities are a far cry from the irritating machoism of most male protagonists in Malayalam cinema these days. He is achingly youthful and scared, and neither the actor nor the director tries to mask the character’s vulnerabilities to appeal to testosterone-ridden sections of the audience. Aadhi weeps with fear and heartbreak, he pukes with fatigue and tension, and even while he seeks to keep his family and friends out of harm’s way, he does not hesitate to call for help when it is evident that he cannot do without it. 

Despite the genre and the fact that the film does not project itself as anything but a mission to get audience pulses racing, it still continues to display its political consciousness in this and other ways. I love the fact that there are Malayalam subtitles embedded in the print for Kannada dialogues, a sign that the maker respects the possibility that his core audience may very possibly not know any language other than Malayalam (too many Mollywood films unfairly assume that their primary viewers understand multiple languages).

The only truly troubling moments in Aadhi come when more than one character blames the woman on the roof for Aadhi’s problems since the men were fighting over her. The second person to accuse her softens the blow by saying she was “knowingly or unknowingly” responsible, but that is not enough in a world that routinely holds women accountable for the consequences of men’s deeds. The fleeting allusion to caste resentments within business families could perhaps have been less fleeting, but that is a minor grouse.

The centerpiece of the proceedings in this film is Pranav’s parkour training. Far from playing spoilsport by demystifying the stunts while showing us the harnesses, green screens and other aids that make such incredible feats possible, the outtakes and behind-the-scenes footage accompanying the end credits provide evidence of Pranav’s – and his co-stars’ – litheness and craft, which is what makes everything so convincing. (It was nice too to catch a glimpse of a female trainer in those shots. I wonder why Joseph did not include a woman among the supporting action artistes on screen.)

Parkour is not Pranav’s only strength. He is sweet-looking and a natural before the camera. Although it is not possible to tell whether he would be able to carry off a film outside the action genre, here he is a perfect fit.

Aadhi is clearly the film’s central character, but make no mistake about this: this is an ensemble film where Joseph’s writing, bolstered by a gifted cast, makes each small role memorable. Jagapati Babu could have gone over the top as the wealthy industrialist who pursues Aadhi with murderous intent after the loss of a son, but he keeps himself in check. The ever-dependable Lena and Siddique bring warmth to their turn as Aadhi’s anxious parents. Lena in particular is so trim and attractive that you know if she were a man (well, frankly, even if she were a tubby man) she would have been routinely getting lead roles rather than being a constant presence as a character artiste in Malayalam cinema.

My favourite people in this film are the poor siblings who go out of their way to help Aadhi when he is in distress. Jaya and Sharath are believable reminders that basic human decency does exist, a point brought out so well sans melodrama by actors Anusree and Sharafudheen. The friendship that blossoms between these three in the middle of a traumatic situation is heartwarming to say the least.

Aadhi is neither a whodunnit nor a howdunnit but a how-he-escaped-from-being-accused-of-it. Considering that almost all the cards are laid out on the table within the first half hour, it is commendable that Jeethu Joseph keeps the suspense going till the end and that he does not resort to any irritating contrivances.

The smashing action choreography – backed by excellent sound design and background music – holds Aadhi all the way up to its nail-biting climactic battle. I found myself letting out involuntary whoops of delight every time Pranav Mohanlal/Aditya Mohan zipped across the screen or smoothly leapt over an obstacle and keeping my fingers crossed for him in a way an audience member only will while watching an artiste who is so lost in his performance that you lose yourself in him. What a fun showcase this is for such a likeable newcomer.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	158 minutes

This review was also published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/aadhi-movie-review-pranav-mohanlal-is-a-perfect-fit-for-a-smashing-action-flick-4322379.html

Poster courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/AadhiMovieMalayalam/