REVIEW 611: NJAN MARYKKUTTY

Release date:	Kerala: June 15, Delhi: June 22, 2018
Director:	Ranjith Sankar
Cast: Language:	Jayasurya, Jewel Mary, Innocent, Aju Varghese, Joju George, Shobha Mohan, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Malavika Menon, Siddhartha Siva, Kochu Preman, Jins Baskar, Advaith Jayasurya Malayalam

Mathukkutty has been torn by internal conflict since his childhood. Though born with the external appearance of a boy, he has always identified as a girl, and grows into adulthood feeling like a woman trapped in a man’s body. Realising that this inner turmoil will haunt him forever if he does not become who he believes he was meant to be, he quits his high-flying corporate job in Chennai, undergoes gender reassignment surgery to begin the physical transformation to a woman and returns to Kerala for this arduous journey.

Writer-director Ranjith Sankar’s latest film is the story of Marykkutty nee Mathukkutty – not necessarily told in the order followed by that opening paragraph – and the many battles she must fight in a society that not merely rejects her but reacts viciously and even with physical violence towards this new challenge to the patriarchal status quo.

Men molest, humiliate and defame her. A female government official snarls at her for giving up the huge social advantages of being a man. Shunned by some, ridiculed or assaulted by others, she also finds kindness in unexpected places.

The most notable aspect of Njan Marykkutty is the normalisation of a character who, across Indian film industries, would usually be a source of humour. When Marykkutty is lampooned, the lampooning comes from people in the film, not the tone of the film itself.

This is significant because mainstream Mollywood in particular is unapologetically patriarchal and frighteningly misogynistic too often. Ranjith Sankar himself has revealed disturbing gender politics in earlier works: his supernatural flick Pretham (2016), for instance, among other things featured an ugly rape joke by Jayasurya’s character. 

Njan Marykkutty appears to emerge from conviction, so hopefully he has evolved. If his writing of this transitioning woman can be faulted at all, it is for its inability to see any faults in her. A member of a marginalised community does not have to be a saint to deserve equal rights, and this sanitisation is another form of othering to guard against.

That Sankar needs to evolve further becomes evident in a scene in which a Collector (Suraj Venjaramoodu) snubs a man for his transphobia by insinuating that he is a eunuch. Err, if you see eunuch as a pejorative, then you are part of the problem, no?

In another scene, Sankar seems to imply that reservations are for untalented individuals through a conversation between Marykkutty and the Collector, which fails to grasp the social complexities that give rise to the need for affirmative action.

In its own way Njan Marykkutty buys into prejudice again in an unthinking scene in which Marykkutty is asked by her teacher, “Are you a feminist?” and she feels the need to issue a clichéd denial. “No, I am a humanist,” she says. Umm, you are not a feminist, Marykkutty? So you are against gender equality? Duh.

The screenplay also needed greater clarity in a conversation in which Marykkutty states: “I am not a transgender, I’m transsexual.” Since transgender is an umbrella term that covers transsexual, it is unclear whether Marykkutty is not aware of this or whether she objects to being labelled with a general rather than specific term. Yeah yeah, I know what some of you are saying – this is not a documentary. But when you choose to make a film on a theme about which there is such widespread ignorance, you need to find ways to disseminate correct information without sounding like a PhD thesis.

These questionable portions in Njan Marykkutty do not, however, eclipse its over-arching inspirational spirit. The fulcrum of the film is Jayasurya’s interpretation of Marykkutty shorn of all tropes that have been seen as a compulsory aspect of LGBT+ individuals by most Indian filmmakers and actors, with a few exceptions. Don’t come looking for a limp wrist, over-the-top camp mannerisms, swivelling hips and a high-pitched voice here – this is not to say that trans persons with such characteristics do not exist, but that there are different kinds of trans persons and Indian cinema has rarely acknowledged that fact.

The only overt changes Sankar and Jayasurya make involve a visible touch of makeup, a switch to saris and blossoming breasts – the rest is barely discernible. Arun Manohar and Saritha Jayasurya are credited for the film’s costumes, and Saritha reportedly designed the endless array of gorgeous cotton saris that Marykkutty wears. Her wardrobe too defies Indian cinema’s stereotypes of trans persons.

Jayasurya’s sensitive portrayal of Marykkutty sans caricature is on a par with Sanchari Vijay’s National Award-winning turn in 2015’s Kannada release Naanu Avanalla…Avalu (I Am Not He, I Am She). As he did with the relatively ordinary Captain recently, here too he has shown his determination to be an actor rather than a star in his roles.

The most credible aspect of Sankar’s powerful screenplay is the equation between a transphobic policeman (Joju George) and Marykkutty. The defining passage in Njan Marykkutty comes when that cop takes sides in a fight between the heroine and some hooligans. The manner in which he, his colleagues and those goons manufacture a series of believable lies playing on prevalent biases against transsexuals and women is chilling.

It is interesting that through her struggles Marykkutty seeks refuge with a woman friend (Jewel Mary) who herself is widely reviled for her non-conformist life. Although the characterisation of a friendly RJ (Aju Varghese) is briefly confusing – creep or nice guy? – and Siddhartha Siva’s acting when his character flirts with Marykkutty borders on comedy that is incongruous in the kind of film this one clearly wants to be, it is interesting too that Sankar does not see a romantic relationship with a man as essential to complete a trans woman. Self-realisation and the acceptance of the self are far more important than the approval of others, even our loved ones, Njan Marykkutty tells us.

Barring Siva and Venjaramoodu, who does not quite pull off his nice-guy act here, the rest of the supporting cast do a good job of their roles, big and small.

Though the film’s background score gets mushy and over-emphatic at times, the camera’s relaxed gaze on Jayasurya is crucial to viewing Marykkutty as a regular person. Not once does DoP Vishnu Narayanan objectify or exoticise this unconventional lead.

This then is Ranjith Sankar’s great achievement here: that he sees Marykkutty not just as a trans person, but as a person. Jayasurya’s unaffected performance in Njan Marykkutty is a landmark not just for his career or Malayalam cinema, but for Indian cinema at large.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	126 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/njan-marykkutty-movie-review-jayasuryas-unaffected-performance-as-trans-woman-is-landmark-for-indian-cinema-4577361.html

Visuals courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/NjanMaryKutty/

REVIEW 417: PRETHAM

Release date:	August 12, 2016
Director:	Ranjith Sankar
Cast: Language:	Jayasurya, Govind Padmasoorya, Sharafudheen, Aju Varghese, Pearl Maaney Malayalam

In a scene from Pretham, a mentalist called John Don Bosco guesses a man’s cellphone password simply by holding his hand. The cynical chap’s friend says excitedly: “Please do something similar with me.” Bosco replies without batting an eyelid: “What should I do? Rape you?” To which the said friend responds: “But I’m not a woman, no?” Sick!

Writer-director Ranjith Sankar positions this episode as light-hearted banter. Many scenes later, we witness Bosco fighting a moving battle on behalf of a woman targeted by voyeurism. Yes, the same Bosco who casually makes rape quips apparently feels strongly about the invasion of a woman’s privacy.

Does he have a split personality? No, Pretham does.

This is what happens when someone makes a “look at me, see how socially committed I am” kind of film without any genuine commitment.

Pretham is a supernatural thriller packaged in comedy. It is set in a gorgeous seaside resort in Kerala owned by three young men who have been friends since college. Shibu (played by Govind Padmasoorya) is a good-looking guy who takes Zumba classes at the resort and is having a Skype affair with his now-married ex-girlfriend. Denny Kokan (Aju Varghese) is a lecherous creep who leers at Shibu’s female Zumba students and tries to have a fling with one of them, a girl called Suhanissa played by the strikingly attractive Pearl Maaney. Priya Lal (Sharafudheen) is the simpleton of the group, smitten by Suhanissa.

Strange things start happening at the resort one day when Denny tries to shoot Suhanissa with his cellphone.

Is the place haunted? Or is a woman one of them misbehaved with trying to spook them? The answer comes in a surprising second half that is completely – and deliberately – at odds with the carefree tone of the first.

Pretham operates at two levels. The comedic elements actually work for the most part. The film scores with its delicious irreverence towards religion represented by the character Yesu (Dharmajan Bolgatty) who asks uncomfortable questions to a Christian priest and others.

The world needs more people who can let their hair down about faith, gods and goddesses. Pretham’s intelligent courage in that area is what makes its intermittently icky, if not thoroughly disgusting, attitude towards women so disappointing. Even before that horrendous rape remark, we are supposed to be entertained by Denny’s plan to secretly mix an aphrodisiac in Suhanissa’s drink. What next? Must we also laugh at boys slipping a roofie to a date?

The rape joke is especially obnoxious because it comes from Bosco, a man who is positioned as someone to be taken seriously within the universe of the film. Like him, Pretham’s attitude to women is confused and confusing. On the one hand it displays sensitivity in the denouement, on the other hand it treats Suhanissa in particular very trivially as a creature to be toyed with. Bosco, for instance, does not ask her to have a coffee with him, he ogles her to her face and asks if she will have “coffee, very hot coffee” (note the emphasis please). I almost expected him to lick his lips as he stared at her in that scene. Yuck!

Suhanissa is positioned as the kind of girl who would be described by conservative north Indians as “uss type ki ladki (that kind of girl)” and across most parts of India as the kind of girl you take to bed but not home to your mother. Read: an easy lay because, you know, her hair is permed, she is Westernised, she does Zumba, holds hands with men, goes into rooms alone with them, embraces men she is fond of without considering it a big deal and is sexually assertive when she meets a guy she likes… hawww, chhee, must definitely be “that type”, no?

All four men are very different in the film’s thriller strand, more mature, sobre and decent. These strangely inconsistent stances dilute the apparent intent of the film: to amuse, to scare and to make a point.

The change in tenor from comedy to whodunit as the story progresses is well handled and the big reveal in the end is unexpected. It succeeds despite the red herrings thrown in our direction. One of them involving a woman at the resort is rather intelligently dealt out, while others – suspended lamps moving in the dark, a resort employee appearing to be possessed – are stupid since no explanation is provided for them in the end.

Pretham makes multiple references to earlier Malayalam films in the horror genre, though the most telling mention of the lot is the 1978 classic Lisa. Keep in mind though that although this film has a supernatural element it is not, strictly speaking, a horror flick – it is at no point meant to be as frightening as it is meant to be suspenseful.

Pretham’s casting is spot on. Jayasurya brings gravitas to his role as Bosco and is a perfect foil to the three goofy friends at the centre of the drama. Padmasoorya, Varghese and Sharafudheen are natural actors. They share an easy chemistry and come across as real-life friends rather than actors playing roles.

The film is a mixed bag on the technical front. Most spaces in Pretham are inexplicably deserted. I recall spotting guests at the resort just once, and a college complex seems devoid of humans when Bosco first visits it. In another tech department though, Pretham comes up trumps: the film’s waterfront setting is stunning, and cinematographer Jithu Damodar exploits it to the hilt without appearing obsessive. The opening shot of the sea made me long for my next visit to God’s Own Country.

Pretham is a partly effective paranormal thriller-cum-comedy, diluted by its mixed-up attitude to women and an ugly rape quip.

Footnote on the subtitles: At one point one of the lead trio addresses an elderly neighbour sarcastically as “Ammachi”. This is a respectful Malayalam form of address for an older woman that, in this instance, is being used like some people might mockingly use “Aunty”. That’s all very well, but the subtitling team translated “Ammachi” to “you old hag”. Errr, even when Ammachi and Aunty are used as ageist taunts, neither word is ever as crude as “hag”.

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

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	127 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

http://www.firstpost.com/bollywood/pretham-review-jayasurya-stars-in-an-inconsistent-comedy-thriller-with-an-ugly-rape-quip-2954086.html

Poster courtesy: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretham