REVIEW 758: DRIVING LICENCE

Release date:	December 20, 2019
Director:	Lal Jr
Cast: Language:	Prithviraj Sukumaran, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Mia George, Deepti Sati, Adhish Praveen, Saiju Kurup, Suresh Krishna, Nandu, Shivaji Guruvayoor, Lalu Alex, Vijayaraghavan Malayalam

A major star needs a driving licence. The motor vehicle inspector in charge of his application is his fan. A misunderstanding caused by a third party’s actions leads to a blazing showdown between them. Could this be the starting point of great cinema? Yes, if writer Sachy and director Lal Jr are involved. In their hands, what follows is a captivating, unexpectedly insightful examination of human nature, as a game of pride and pettiness, fandom and fury leads to a high-profile war over a tiny issue.

Prithviraj Sukumaran plays the actor Hareendran, and Suraj Venjaramoodu is the MVI, Kuruvilla J. Both are in top form in Driving Licence, a suspense-filled, fast-paced ride that belies and surpasses all expectations raised by the trailer and the film’s opening minutes. At first it appears that this will be just a David-vs-Goliath battle. Then it seems that it will be a story of how even the smallest cog in a wheel can cause massive disruptions. Then it looks like it will be about media sensationalism or Mollywood politics. Then it heads in the direction of how the bureaucracy misuses its powers. Each time you think you have cracked Driving Licence,  it takes a surprising turn. This screenplay is one of the cleverest pieces of writing to emerge from Malayalam cinema in what is already a great year for Mollywood.

Lal Jr, whose calling cards as a director so far have been Honey Bee and Honey Bee 2: Celebrations, whips up the excitement levels in his latest venture with the aid of editor Ratheesh Raj’s smooth transitions and swift cuts. What elevates Driving Licence above the average thriller and makes it almost unslottable genre-wise though is its thoughtfulness. Intelligent writing, deft editing and nuanced acting join forces to ensure that neither Hareendran nor Kuruvilla is villainised or heroised at any point. What we get instead is a plausible series of circumstances aptly illustrating how momentary bursts of temper (from both gentlemen), arrogance (Hareendran’s) and small-mindedness (Kuruvilla’s) could cause otherwise manageable incidents to spiral out of control. The film is not perfect – we are never quite given to understand why Hareendran trusts his childhood friend, the politician Johnny Peringodan played by Saiju Kurup, when it is so clear that the man is untrustworthy, and Kuruvilla’s wife (Mia George) comes across as a caricature – but it is gripping all the same. 

Though Driving Licence – perhaps intentionally – gives off a vibe of being casual fun, it is quite the opposite. Don’t get me wrong. It is lots of fun. However, it is anything but casual. In fact, it is brave in the way it highlights the control big stars in Kerala have over their fans associations (this is true of fans groups across southern India’s film industries) at a time when the aggression, criminality and toxic masculinity of such associations has come under scrutiny after the actor assault case of 2017, the formation of the Women In Cinema Collective and the attack on Parvathy for her outspokenness. 

That said, the handling of Mollywood politics is less layered than the rest of the film. The misogynistic AMMA (the Association of Malayalam Movie Artistes) which has behaved shamefully in the aftermath of the 2017 attack, has been given kid-glove treatment here, and painted simply as a bunch of supportive men who back a fellow artiste when he is treated unfairly. This, and the speech given by Hareendran in the end when he holds back from lambasting his fans shortly after they displayed horrifying mob behaviour, are the places where Driving Licence chooses to play it safe. Hareendran the superstar is very likely to be cautious in comments about his fans, but this is Team Driving Licence itself avoiding antagonising the public. 

These, no doubt, are conscious decisions. What appears unconscious and is therefore far more disturbing is the way Kuruvilla’s physical roughness towards his wife and the manner in which he trivialises her are portrayed with a such-is-life tone rather than a critical eye. 

Hopefully, Lal Jr and Sachy will rise above their social conditioning next time and will also show even more courage than they have shown here. 

The two leading men in Driving Licence are surrounded by a well-chosen supporting cast, including Deepti Sati who lends quiet dignity to the role of Hareendran’s wife despite her limited presence in the proceedings, Suresh Krishna who is hilarious as a mediocre actor and Hareendran’s jealous rival, and Adhish Praveen as Kuruvilla’s son. There is a scene in which the boy realises that his Dad is lying to avoid telling his wife about a humiliating experience – the camera rests very briefly on him, but those moments are enough for this remarkable youngster to convey a child’s internal conflict.

Venjaramoodu has already rocked the big screen with his performance as a lonely, ill-tempered old man in Android Kunjappan Version 5.25 earlier this year. In some ways Kuruvilla is a more challenging role because it gives him no crutches to lean on, like the heavy makeup of Android or the massive age difference between him and his character. In this film as in that one, he has to earn sympathy for his character despite his misbehaviour with another character who is hard to dislike. Venjaramoodu of course pulls it off.

2019 has been a mixed bag for Prithviraj. While Brothers Day was disgraceful and his directorial debut Lucifer was disappointing, both Nine and Driving Licence are reminders of what a fine actor he is. That he is also heartachingly handsome does not hurt, of course. In his turn as the brusque superstar who adores his wife, Prithviraj owns every frame in which he appears. He is one among the multiple reasons why Driving Licence, despite its share of potholes, remains a thoroughly entertaining experience.

Rating (out of 5 stars): 3.5

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	135 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/driving-licence-movie-review-prithviraj-is-terrific-in-a-captivating-drama-on-pride-and-pettiness-fandom-and-fury-7814391.html

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

REVIEW 749: ANDROID KUNJAPPAN VERSION 5.25

Release date:	Kerala: November 8, 2019 Delhi: November 15, 2019
Director:	Ratheesh Balakrishnan Poduval
Cast: Language:	Soubin Shahir, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Kendy Zirdo, Saiju Kurup, Parvathi T, Megha Mathew, Rajesh Madhavan, Sivadas Kannur, Unni Raja Malayalam with some English

A buffalo on a rampage, teenaged  human beings and a robot in addition, of course, to adult humans – these have been the protagonists of Malayalam films in 2019 so far. Not that serious Indian cinephiles are unaware of this, but if anyone does ask, here is proof that this is a time of experimentation for one of India’s most respected film industries.

Writer-director Ratheesh Balakrishnan Poduval’s contribution to what has been a magnificent year for Malayalam cinema so far is Android Kunjappan Version 5.25, a darling film about a mechanical engineer struggling to take care of his grouchy ageing father while also building a career for himself. 

Subrahmanian, played by Soubin Shahir, dearly loves his exasperating Dad. Over the years he has quit several big-city jobs, at each instance to return to his village in Kerala because good care-givers are hard to come by and even the halfway decent ones find this rigid old man intolerable. Bhaskaran Poduval (Suraj Venjaramoodu) remains ungrateful and unmoved by his son’s evident affection. He has always wanted Subrahmanian to find a job in the vicinity of their home so that he can be available at all times. Do it not out of a sense of duty, he keeps insisting though, do it out of love. 

Now in his mid-30s, desperate for a job and a life of his own, Subrahmanian ropes in a robot to be Bhaskaran’s companion and domestic help while he is away. 

Android Kunjappan Version 5.25 raises a question that is increasingly occupying filmmakers worldwide. Can even the smartest machines experience love and fulfill the human need for it? American director Spike Jonze’s moving Oscar-nominated 2013 film Her had a lonely man (Joaquin Phoenix) falling for a virtual assistant (Scarlett Johansson’s voice). The equally moving British film Ex Machina starred Alicia Vikander as a humanoid robot being tested to see if she can match human intelligence. The far less tech-driven yet just as visually impressive Android Kunjappan explores the relationship that develops between a crotchety elderly human and a robot who never feels insulted. 

Film budgets in India are a microscopic fraction of what the West can afford. Poduval has told the press that financial constraints prompted the team to actually physically build a robot instead of conjuring one up with VFX. The result is arguably better than any illusion that could have been constructed on a computer screen. The boyish-looking machine Along with Kerala’s lush greenery and Bhaskaran’s decaying house as shot by cinematographer Sanu John Varughese make for an interesting and unique visual combination in this endearing, thoughtful story.

The people of Bhaskaran’s village nickname the robot Kunjappan. He is a loveable little fellow, but Poduval does not let the narrative get cutesy around him. The film is packed with snapshots of life in rural Kerala, its colourful characters ranging from the merely curious to the painfully intrusive, from gossips to unimaginably supportive folk. Android Kunjappan is unrelentingly funny, yet it is at all times profoundly philosophical.

Soubin Shahir is pitch perfect here as a son torn between a parent he loves and his desire for an existence beyond his village. At 43, Suraj Venjaramoodu is not the natural choice to play a 70/80-year-old. Since older men are not denied opportunities in the way women are, this is a point not related to principle as much as to the artistic challenges involved. As it happens, Venjaramoodu’s makeup and his impression of a fiery but frail old man are astonishingly good. The actor does not allow this to become the overriding aspect of his turn as Bhaskaran though – truth be told, his gait and posture are so consistent throughout, that early in the film I forgot the character is about double the age of the actor. All that is visible on screen is his sensitive performance.

Bhaskaran’s considerate nephew Prasannan is played by the gifted character artiste Saiju Kurup. It is a well-written part, and as always Kurup does full justice to it.

The other key individual in Android Kunjappan is Hitomi, Subrahmanian’s colleague of Japanese-Malayali descent played by debutant Kendy Zirdo. Hitomi is unusual for Malayalam cinema – a foreigner who is not exoticised or given sketchy characterisation. Beautiful though Sudani from Nigeria was, Samuel/Sudu in that film always remained an outsider being observed by the storyteller, always “the other”, whereas it is clear that once he dispenses with Hitomi’s explanation for her knowledge of Malayalam, Poduval gets down to viewing her as a person rather than a Japanese-Malayali person.

That said, unless you have never met an Indian from east of the Orissa-Bengal belt, you have to just hear Hitomi speak a few words of English to know that Zirdo is not Japanese. Sure enough a Google search reveals that she is from Arunachal Pradesh. Perfectionism would have called for coaching the young actor to sound Japanese. That should be the next step in Mollywood’s evolution. In the present context though, it is a pleasure to see Malayalam cinema looking beyond Malayalis and beyond even Indians for its stories, and writing a foreigner as a credible character with empathy. Zirdo is a sprightly ball of energy, she makes Hitomi charming and her Malayalam is a joy to hear.

The smaller satellite roles in Android Kunjappan are played by artistes who look and sound so real, it is as if they have been recruited from the local populace.

Android Kunjappan’s all-round adorability overshadows its flaws and moments of hesitation. The strand involving Saudamini, played by Parvathi T, for one, does not quite come together. (Some readers may consider the next two sentences spoilers) In a scene where we discover that Subrahmanian has been secretly observing his father in the house through a camera, the tone of the narrative suggests  that Poduval has not considered issues of privacy in the context of the elderly. And in the end, when Subrahmanian tailors his plans once again around his father, thus allowing Bhaskaran to get away with not budging from the status quo, it does seem like the script opted for a path it deemed comparatively safe in a society that tends to romanticise parenthood and demand that we deify parents irrespective of their failings. (Spoiler alert ends)

I suppose what makes Android Kunjappan special anyway is that it takes courage to even acknowledge on the Indian screen that a parent could be selfish and not a saint. What gives it nuance is the way it makes the hero’s love for his difficult father believable, and how it works to endear Bhaskaran to the audience even as we accept that he is a jerk.

This is what makes Android Kunjappan a pathbreaking film steeped in commentary about age, caste, class, religious bigotry, social and familial pressures. When Bhaskaran and Kunjappan discuss the former’s attraction for a woman in the neighbourhood, Kunjappan points out that in Japan if you love a person you openly tell them so. “That is not how it is here (in India/Kerala),” Bhaskaran replies. “Here you either rape her or pour petrol on her and set her on fire.” The scene is not designed as a joke – thankfully, Poduval is no Omar Lulu – so its matter-of-factness makes his observation a tighter slap on the face of Indian/Malayali society than any character delivering a speech on the subject of consent.

The use of technology in this film is impressive precisely because it does not overtly seek to impress with its futurism. Kunjappan is cute and looks slick, but it is clear that the story and its humanity are of paramount importance to Poduval.  It is no wonder then that despite its overall light-heartedness, Android Kunjappan Version 5.25 paints a poignant portrait of loneliness and potential human-machine equations enriched by the writer’s deep comprehension of the incomprehensibility of human love.

 

Rating (out of 5 stars): 3.5

CBFC Rating (India):	U
Running time:	140 minutes

This review has also been published on Firstpost:

https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/android-kunjappan-version-5-25-movie-review-a-crotchety-old-man-bonds-with-a-robot-in-kerala-7668821.html

Visuals courtesy IMDB