Release
date:
|
Kerala: March 23, 2018
Delhi: April 6, 2018
|
Director:
|
Sanal Kumar
Sashidharan
|
Cast:
Language: |
Rajshri
Deshpande, Kannan Nayar, Vedh, Sujeesh K.S., Arunsol, Bilas Nair, Nisthar
Ahamed, Baiju Netto
Malayalam
|
In terms of conventional storyline, this is all there is to S Durga: a man and woman on a lonely road in Kerala get a lift from two menacing creeps.
Yet, in expanding that one sentence
into a big-screen feature, Sanal Kumar Sashidharan serves up a universe of
meaning that tears the mask off the dual-purpose woman-as-goddess trope that
patriarchy holds out to women as a carrot and, simultaneously, stick.
Durga in this film is both the
ordinary woman on the street and the mighty deity of the Hindu pantheon. She is
the creature that society seeks to subjugate even while it worships her fearsome
namesake in temples.
When we first meet the human
Durga of this tale (played by Rajshri Deshpande), she is standing by a deserted
road, waiting. From her body language, even from a distance, you can see that
she is anxious. Her male friend Kabeer (Kannan Nayar) arrives, they set off
walking towards the railway station, and shortly thereafter hitch a ride from a
passing van.
What follows is one of the most
bizarre games ever played on film. The men in the van taunt Durga and Kabeer,
make salacious insinuations about their relationship, bully and terrorise them
in various ways, yet continuously claim that they are concerned about their
safety. Even as they prepare to pounce on the protagonist, they insist on
addressing her as “Chechi” and repeatedly warn her of the dangers outside their
vehicle.
It is a sport that is at once
weird and fascinating, a frighteningly symbolic depiction of the
protector-cum-predator role that men – and female allies of patriarchy – play in
the lives of women. Durga and Kabeer’s claustrophobia in that van is almost
palpable. The men troubling them are another avatar of the khap panchayat issuing
directives to curb women, purportedly to save us from marauding men; the
husband who will not tolerate a stranger eyeing his wife but thinks nothing of
raping her himself day after day.
Game-playing is a device
Sashidharan seems to favour. In his last film, Ozhivudivasathe Kali (An
Off-Day Game), a group of men on a break in a forest lodge hold a little
contest among themselves that reeks of their patriarchal, caste and class
prejudices. A woman escapes their clutches by the skin of her teeth, but their
match has fatal consequences for another person on the scene.
In S Durga, we do not actually see the men physically molesting Durga,
but the film is designed to fill us with a sense of foreboding on her behalf –
an unsettling feeling that rears its head the second we see her standing alone
at night on that desolate street, a feeling women know all too well.
Parallel to Durga and Kabeer’s
journey, a religious procession unfolds in the film. Even before we meet these
two, we are shown a tableau bearing a statue of a demon-slaying avatar of
Goddess Shakti. Around her, a procession of live men offer up their bodies for torture.
They pierce spears through their mouths and dangle from hooks passed through
their skin.
These religious devotees are
relayed to us unrelentingly, in documentary style, for almost 10 minutes at the
start of S Durga. It is as difficult
to watch them as it is to see the men in the van doing a dance of intimidation
around Durga and Kabeer.
The divine Shakti is known in her
multiple manifestations as Durga, Kali, Bhadrakali, Parvathi and more. Even as
the pageant in the film kicks off, a male worshipper briefly harasses a woman
bystander. His action is so fleeting and seemingly jestful, that you will miss
it if you blink an eye. It is one of many telling moments in this multi-layered
film.
S Durga’s overt messaging is about the
hypocrisy of men who will pay tribute to a mythical female being even as they
suppress and assault her mortal equivalents. For all her legendary ferocity,
Durga in that parade and in houses of worship is but a statue that does not
inconvenience earthly males in the way assertive, rights-conscious, articulate
earthly females do.
Sashidharan’s is an all-encompassing
feminism that alerts us to the perils of patriarchy for uncooperative men, and recognises
this system as a sub-set of all marginalisation. A solitary Durga would have drawn
attention because it is deemed unacceptable for her to be on her own, but here in
S Durga she is judged for being with
a man, she is also judged for her background and his religious identity.
Her name is Hindu. Her speech
suggests that she is a north Indian, which in south India immediately attracts
another form of othering. His name implies that he is Muslim, which brings up
another volley of prejudice. No one says the ugly words “love jihad” but it
hangs thick in the air.
(Possible
spoilers ahead)
Kabeer initially introduces
himself by the Hindu name Kannan to the occupants of the van – an instinctive
self-protection mechanism adopted by many minorities, but most especially by
Muslims in a contemporary world engulfed by Islamophobia.
The most poignant commentary on
the helplessness of persecuted communities comes from a scene in which two
householders hear a hubbub and step out of their gates to find out what is
going on, see Durga and Kabeer surrounded in the distance, and quietly get back
inside.
This is a film that should compel
even the most sensitive viewers among us to introspect because, without wanting
to, we might find ourselves getting frustrated with Durga and Kabeer, and
unwittingly asking questions that victim-blamers always ask. Why on earth did
you get into that vehicle? Get out. Don’t get out. Can you not see how treacherous
that road is? If you must elope, must you do so at this hour? Go to the police.
Oh wait, don’t.
Here’s the thing: the road, the
van, the home, the police station – when each of these spaces is fraught with
risks for women and inter-community couples, when those who are not active
participants in injustice choose to be silent spectators, where are they/we to
go?
My one problem with the film is
its sound design. I realise it is meant to be an accurate representation of a
highway with all its accompanying sounds, but the strain on the ears becomes too much in places as we struggle to
hear whispers vying with loud music and passing vehicles. That said, S Durga is compelling despite this
challenge. That it was made without a written script makes it even more
admirable.
In case you missed the headlines
it has earned so far, for the record, S
Durga is the film formerly known as Sexy
Durga, which Smriti Irani’s Information and Broadcasting Ministry did
cartwheels to axe from IFFI last year. After a series of ups and downs – awards
in India and abroad, clashes with the Ministry and the Central Board of Film Certification,
and a favourable intervention by the Kerala High Court – it was finally released
in mainstream theatres in Kerala last month and has come to halls outside the
state this week.
Although the sarkar and the Board claimed that the title Sexy Durga would hurt Hindu sentiments, a viewing of the film
reveals their more likely, unstated concerns. S Durga is not just an unnerving commentary on patriarchy, it is a
cutting indictment of a society and establishment that perpetuate, participate in
or unprotestingly accept all forms of social prejudice.
Rating
(out of five stars): ****
CBFC Rating (India):
|
UA
|
Running time:
|
89 minutes
|
This review has also been published on Firstpost:
Related article by Anna M.M. Vetticad: Sexy Durga or S Durga? How the government’s reaction proves the verypoint the film makes
