Friday, October 13, 2017

REVIEW 535: UDAHARANAM SUJATHA


Release date:
September 6, 2017
Director:
Phantom Praveen
Cast:



Language:
Manju Warrier, Anaswara Rajan, Nedumudi Venu, Joju George, Mamata Mohandas, Abhija Sivakala, Sudhi Kopa, Alencier Ley Lopez  
Malayalam


Writer-director Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari’s Nil Battey Sannata was one of the finest works to emerge from Bollywood in 2016. It starred Swara Bhaskar as a mother who goes back to school to teach her difficult daughter a life lesson. Tiwari herself remade the film in Tamil as Amma Kanakku starring Amala Paul. It is lovely to see Nil Battey travelling across Indian languages. The latest version is the official Malayalam remake with Manju Warrier, which is a comment on how impactful the original was if you consider that Bhaskar is still establishing herself in her industry whereas Warrier is a Mollywood superstar.

Debutant director Phantom Praveen’s Udaharanam Sujatha (Example: Sujatha) is faithful to its source material for the most part, with a couple of changes that merit discussion. Warrier here plays Sujatha Krishnan, the harried, impoverished parent of a Class X student. Athira Krishnan is a layabout who barely manages to scrape her way through exams. Her mother holds down multiple jobs – as household help, factory hand and more – to save money for her daughter’s higher education, an education that the child has no interest in whatsoever.

Sujatha is frustrated that she cannot even try to tutor Athira since she herself dropped out of school after flunking Class X. She is also heartbroken to discover that the girl has zero ambition since, as she tells her Mum one day, children follow in their parents’ footsteps so it goes without saying that a housemaid’s daughter will grow up to be a housemaid.

A kind employer, the celebrated screenwriter George Paul, suggests that Sujatha enroll herself in Athira’s school and class. Athira reacts with ferocious spite that may make an observer wonder why Sujatha is bothered about this nasty, ungrateful wretch. Well, she does. Good parents tend to be bottomless wells of forgiveness that no offspring deserves.

Udaharanam Sujatha is about this mother-daughter clash, the mother’s continuing struggles and how she ultimately dramatically changes their lives.

If Nil Battey Sannata was outstanding, in some ways Udaharanam Sujatha is even better. It takes courage to do what Warrier does in this film, surrendering herself to the part to such an extent that she obliterates her glamorous personality to transform herself into Sujatha of the garish saris and boring, practical hairdo. She takes a huge risk by doing so considering that she is a major mainstream star in an industry that values women primarily for their looks, and in any case rarely sees women in their 30s and beyond as worthy of being deemed glamorous, unlike their male contemporaries. Ah well, Warrier is used to making her own road as a post-divorce returnee to films, occupying the kind of space Mollywood rarely gives women of any age.

As it turns out, she is smashing in Udaharanam Sujatha.


The beauty of the screenplay, Phantom Praveen’s interpretation of the adaptation by Naveen Bhaskar and the casting is that though the film revolves around Sujatha, it is packed with memorable performances by other actors in well-defined roles, big and small. Child actor Anaswara Rajan, for one, is so solid as the second lead, Athira, that I can picture her as an artiste of Warrier’s standing in years to come if she keeps at it. They are a perfect match for each other.

Of the remaining cast, Joju George stands out for his turn as the eccentric, misguided school principal who thinks public humiliation is a legitimate teaching method, and Abhija Sivakala is flawless as a coconut vendor to whom Sujatha owes money.

Nedumudi Venu imbues George Paul with empathy, sensitivity and decency, without defying believability. That said, and while it is always a pleasure to see the legend in action, the writing of George Paul includes the only disappointing change the Malayalam screenplay makes to the original Hindi story in which Chanda Sahai’s compassionate employer was a woman, not a man. The scenes between Chanda and Dr Diwan (Ratna Pathak Shah) were a rare instance of female bonding in Hindi cinema, which is otherwise brimful of stories on male friendship.

This alteration by Team Udaharanam is telling. Our cinema finds it hard to portray women as mentors of women or men, as thought leaders and agents of change in their own lives and the lives of others. “Man rescues woman” is viewed as being more saleable, I guess, than “woman supports woman”. It is highly possible that if Vidhu Vincent’s Manhole had been produced by a commercial heavyweight, it would have told the tale of the Dalit son of a manual scavenger growing up to become a lawyer who fights for the rights of his people, or – even more likely – of the Brahmin friend of the Dalit son of a manual scavenger... This is not to say that such men and Brahmins do not exist, but that these are the people most filmmakers prefer to focus on. So while celebrating the fact that in Udaharanam Sujatha, the female protagonist holds the reins of her existence, it is important not to excuse the switch from Dr Diwan to George Paul.

(Possible spoilers ahead)

Another gender switch in the film, on the other hand, is heartening. In Nil Battey Sannata, Chanda gets the idea to make her daughter a collector when she sees the local collector played by Sanjay Suri. Mamta Mohandas has been cast in that cameo here. One of the things holding girls back from pursuing careers is that society constantly reminds them to be good wives and mothers, but rarely prods them to work outside the house and be good at it. Female role models who have made it in various professions are reminders to these little ones that they can be more than what they are told they ought to be. Keeping this context in mind, Collector Madam in Udaharanam Sujatha marks a significant – and positive – writing modification.

The other is the introduction of a suitor. Sujatha’s reaction to him does not in any way indicate a sacrifice for her daughter, but genuine disinterest – clearly, she does not feel compelled to be with a man just to conform to social diktats that assume a woman is helpless on her own.

(Spoiler alert ends)


Besides, the sore point about gender notwithstanding, Sujatha’s conversations with George Paul underline an aspect of class relations usually ignored (without ill intentions) in the mainstream liberal discourse, because highlighting class wars is such an urgent and time-consuming cause. Privileged social groups always have and will include people willing to stand by those from marginalised sections of society who are fighting for their rights. Udaharanam: George Paul.

Udaharanam Sujatha then is an intelligent, enjoyable, well-acted, well-written story about looking beyond the cards we are dealt at birth. There are those who might see this film as an instance of a mother forcing her dreams down her daughter’s throat. It is not. At the end of the day, Sujatha’s worry is not merely that Athira does not look beyond the possibility of becoming a housemaid or does not dream of being a collector, but that she does not dream at all.

This is not to say the film makes no flawed arguments. Despite its overall broad-mindedness, it has a seemingly progressive character perpetuating a widely held stereotype that is used to discourage women from entering fields related to Science, Technology and Mathematics: when Sujatha laments Athira’s fear of Maths, George Paul laments “the long-standing troubled relationship between girls and Mathematics”. Why the generalisation? Et tu, Brutus?

Then there is that incongruous closing line from Athira unwittingly dissing the work done by Sujatha and millions like her who perform a crucial function in keeping the wheels of the nation running. There is no indignity in being the household help in a home that treats you with respect. The larger point the film is making until then is that no one should be fatalistic, we must all have dreams for ourselves, and instead of relying on words like luck and destiny, we must see where sweat and toil may take us if we wish to be somewhere other than where we are.

Udaharanam Sujatha could also have done without that maudlin line flashing on screen right at the end about mothers being God’s greatest gift to the world. Not mothers in general, please, but the good ones. It is important and okay to make that distinction.

These are debates worth having because Udaharanam Sujatha is worthy of being debated. None of these arguments in any way alters the fact that Phantom Praveen has zeroed in on a fantastic theme, he has effectively walked the fine line that allows a film to offer viewers entertainment combined with introspection, and he has done so with the assurance of a veteran.

Udaharanam Sujatha is one of the best films to emerge from the Malayalam industry this year. It is about courage in the face of poverty. It is about small joys and big dreams. It is about wanting the world for your child even at a time when the only treat you can financially afford to offer her is a packet of instant noodles that you gleefully share in your grubby one-room tenement. It is a thought-provoking, heartwarming film of immense sadness, laughter where you least expect it, and over-arching hope. I am already looking forward to Praveen’s next project.

As for the leading lady of this film, she is an udaharanam among udaharanams. Manju Warrier, you are a rockstar.

Rating (out of five stars): ****

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost:




Saturday, October 7, 2017

REVIEW 534: SOLO


Release date:
October 6, 2017
Director:
Bejoy Nambiar
Cast:





Language:
Dulquer Salmaan, Sai Dhansika, Arthi Venkatesh, Anson Paul, Renji Panicker, Sruthi Hariharan, Manoj K. Jayan, Prakash Belawadi, Neha Sharma, Nassar, Suhasini Maniratnam, Dino Morea, Deepti Sati
Malayalam

(Note: This is a review of the Malayalam version of Solo. The film has been simultaneously made in Tamil.)


Dulquer Salmaan is as hot as I imagine the planet Mercury must be. Now imagine someone bringing Mercury down to earth, cloning it to generate four blazing balls of fire and packing them into a single film. That is what writer-director Bejoy Nambiar has done in his new release Solo, an anthology of short stories written jointly by Nambiar and Dhanya Suresh, with DQ – as he is popularly known – playing the protagonist in each.

Too hot to handle? Jokes (meaning, that hormonally charged first paragraph) aside, actually not. Nambiar handles the central artiste in his cast as any director should treat a gifted performer: with respect but not reverence. Too many filmmakers ruin potentially good projects by behaving like fanboys rather than helmsmen. In Nambiar’s hands though, Solo is not star-struck, not designed simply to show off a young superstar’s beauty and talent, not painfully conscious of his presence or overwhelmed by it. Salmaan does not overshadow all else here. He is what he is and ought to be: an actor playing a part… well, four parts.

First, he is Shekhar, a musician with a speech impairment and an interfering family, in love with a dancer who is blind. Next, he is Dr Trilok Menon who rescues an accident victim on a lonely road. Then comes Shiva, a violent gangster who is protective towards his little brother and roughs up the mother of his child. And Lieutenant Rudra Ramachandran of the finale is determined to marry the woman he loves despite opposition from her family, including her brigadier father who could destroy his career as revenge.

Each short is presented as a representation of one of the elements – Water, Wind, Fire, Earth; each character as a representation of that element as manifest in Lord Shiva, and bearing one of the beloved deity’s many names.

As standalone shorts, they work well. Each segment is well-rounded for the most part. There is a surprise in each one, but no twist feels contrived. When the realisation settles in, by the third short a viewer is waiting for an unexpected turn of events, but the expectation is not a distraction and does not eclipse everything else that is going on, nor is any revelation predictable.

DQ is excellent throughout, pulling off sensitivity, innocence, cruelty and heartbreak without the effort being apparent. Each of his characters is styled distinctively (Shekhar, for instance, has long hair), but they are distinguishable from each other even without that because of the actor’s subtly changing body language.

The supporting players are just as good, and include stars in their own right. Veterans Suhasini Maniratnam and Nassar who play Rudra’s parents live up to their reputations. Of the young lot, Sai Dhansika stands out for her performance as Shekhar’s lover Radhika and because she too is a Mercury-level knockout. Anson Paul delivers a neatly nuanced performance as Justin, a man wracked with guilt at a choice he once made against the dictates of his conscience, as does Sruthi Hariharan who displays her substantial range in travelling from nagger to victim to sexual being to conflicted woman hopelessly in love within the span of the few minutes available to her.

The only artiste constrained by this film’s grandeur is Arthi Venkatesh playing an accident victim called Ayesha in Trilok and Justin’s short. The camerawork in this portion is painfully overt in its effort to present her as a cute darling sort, as if that was necessary to convince us that her death would be a huge loss to those who loved her. There is also something slightly discomfiting about the focus on her body, her bare skin and her curves, before and after a tragedy befalls her. If the portrayal of Ayesha is one of the film’s lacunae, the fault lies not with Venkatesh but with the cinematography and direction in the few seconds that she is on screen.

This is the only place where Solo becomes self-conscious right in the middle of a narrative. Sadly, it detracts from the natural flow of this section.

The other moments of self-consciousness come in the unconvincing effort to connect Lord Shiva and the elements to Shekhar, Trilok, Shiva and Rudra, and to weave the figure four into the fabric of their lives.

The religio-mythological referencing in Solo is strained and ineffective. It is also, if you think about it, unnecessary. Even without the great Destroyer of the Hindu Holy Trinity, there are common threads running through Solo’s segments: aloneness (which is perhaps why the film is titled thus), loss and betrayal – the physical loss of a loved one, the emotional loss that comes with betrayal by a loved one. These are thoughtful stories in which the audience must grapple with the questions thrown our way without answers being obviously spoonfed to us.

What, for instance, is the definition of human goodness? If a man hesitated over a monumentally heartless action and repented for it all his life, is he evil? Who is the better person: the gun-toting, trigger-happy hooligan camouflaging the great pain he endured in his childhood, or the seemingly polished fellow with a genuine grievance, calmly and systematically executing a plan of revenge? A character describes another as “a good man…not good enough”. Where does human frailty end and “good enough” begin?

These questions, ironically, were “good enough” to make Solo a wholesome film without the intellectual pretentions that rob it of some of its warmth.

While I do not have any favourite in this quartet, I do have a least favourite one, which I cannot reveal because it would involve a spoiler. When you see Solo you will figure out which part I am referring to here. When a man cheats on his wife, and his son asks, “Could you not find any other woman (to have an affair with)?” the Dad has the audacity to say, “I could ask you the same thing.” Actually, he would not be justified in doing so (when you know the particulars, you might agree), and while I can certainly believe that there could be such traitorous fathers out there who might ask their sons such questions, it is hard to buy this particular son’s silence in response to his father’s impertinence, considering the overall writing of his character.

Also defying credulity elsewhere is Rudra’s army boss (Dino Morea) actively prodding him to indulge in silly, typical-Indian-commercial-film-climax-type behaviour.

Solo has a smattering of dialogues in Hindi and Tamil. While for the most part, it is okay not to subtitle them since it can be argued that we are hearing them from the standpoint of characters who don’t understand these languages, this reasoning does not apply to Shiva’s story where some of the Tamil lines are pivotal to the understanding of the main antagonist’s motivations. It would have made sense to embed Malayalam subs here for the benefit of Solo’s primary audience unless it is being assumed that every Malayali knows Tamil.

Like all Nambiar’s films so far, this one too is a visual treat featuring well-used music. Striking illustrations introduce each section. The cinematography is luscious, never more so than in the way it captures those heavily wooded country roads in Trilok’s saga. The greenery in those scenes is so delicious that you could make a meal of it. Each segment too gets a well-defined look without being too literal in the representation of jalam, vaayu, agni and bhoomi.

In each of Nambiar’s features so far, his penchant for stylised storytelling has been his strength and his Achilles heel. I still get goosebumps remembering the splendid overlaying of the song Khoya khoya chand over two parallel tracks of extreme chaos in Shaitan (2011). Nambiar always has an interesting point to make, but too often in his works, style has subtracted from soul. Solo has style and soul. The reason why the film pulls through as a whole despite the needless contrivance used to link its individual parts is because the Shiva reference precedes each one, after which the stories themselves are immersive enough and the cast engaging enough for the artifice to be forgotten till it rolls around once again before the next one. This amounts to liking the film not for what the maker meant it to be, but in spite of his intentions. So be it. Solo is not a great film, but it is “good enough”.

Rating (out of five stars): **3/4

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

This review has also been published on Firstpost: