This post first appeared on Totally Film on December 7, 2019.
The end of the decade has seen lots of buzz around lists of films (top tens, top one hundreds, best films in a variety of languages, best films across languages), and in my own plodding way I’ve started looking back at Malayalam films year by year. These are not going to be, particularly, “best of” lists — instead, I picked out films from each year that stood out for me for a variety of reasons (although I will admit that there are years filled with excellent movies, and some where the pickings are a little slimmer.)
Most discussion around what’s been called “New Gen Malayalam Cinema” tends to focus on 2011 as a starting point — and while we could debate the roots of the revival of Malayalam cinema, it is true that when I sat down to take a look at films year by year over the last decade, it was interesting to see arrival of a younger generation of filmmakers and actors, influenced not only by classic Malayalam films, but also by terrific filmmaking from all over the world.
As for 2010, most of these films are not ones I would offer as first choices to anyone expanding their Malayalam film viewing; rather, I’ve chosen them either because they reflect a state of Malayalam cinema that was about to change, or because they give us early glimpses into the careers of actors and filmmakers and writers who, as the decade comes to a close, are now sitting at the forefront of the industry.
So here are ten films from 2010 to think about (and perhaps explore):
Nayakan (dir. Lijo Jose Pellissery)
Lijo Jose Pellissery’s films have gained international recognition recently, and deservedly so. Films like Angamaly Diaries, Ee.Ma.Yau, and most recently Jallikattu have found eager audiences outside of Kerala. But 2010 saw the release of his first feature film, Nayakan (“Hero”), about Varadan (Indrajith), the son of a Kathakali master, who joins the underworld in order to avenge the deaths of his father and sister.
Nayakan is not as accomplished (either from a technical or a story standpoint) as LJP’s later films, but it’s an interesting debut in that it sets up many elements that would become features of the director’s work. I’ve written before that LJP frequently roots his films firmly in Kerala, drawing on both its landscape and culture, and in Nayakan he uses the various parts of a Kathakali performance to frame what happens in the film as Varadan acts to seek his revenge. It’s not widely available, but well worth seeking out to see an early example of Pellissery’s style.
Malarvaadi Arts Club (dir. Vineeth Sreenivasan)
Vineeth Sreenivasan had, by 2010, established a career as a reasonably successful playback singer for Malayalam movies. He’d also acted in a couple of films, Cycle in 2008 and Makante Achan in 2009, where he played the son of his real-life father, actor/writer/director Sreenivasan. 2010 saw him set out in a new direction, writing and directing his first film, Malarvaadi Arts Club, for which he also wrote the song lyrics (set to music by Shaan Rahman) and sang most of the songs. The film was produced by veteran actor Dileep, and was anchored by performances from established actors like Nedumudi Venu, Jagathy Sreekumar, and Suraj Venjaramoodu (along with a cameo from Sreenivasan as well). The film is rather conventional in its direction and storytelling, but was unique in that it launched, as its leads, five young actors, one of whom – Nivin Pauly – would go on to become a formidable actor in his own right.
Pokkiri Raja (dir. Vyshakh)
Pokkiri Raja is a big, massy hero entertainer that was a massive hit in 2010, even though it was pretty much panned critically. But it’s a film I rather like, because, quite honestly, despite the fact that it’s not terribly groundbreaking, it’s a film that embraces all the masala chestnuts and revels in them. Its’ USP was that it put both Megastar Mammootty and Young Superstar (as he was known then) Prithviraj in the one film, both of them chewing up the scenery and just having a grand old time. I often say that comedy Mammootty is not my favourite version of the actor, but here, as Raja, he is, quite frankly, a hoot to watch – by turns imposing, menacing, compelling — and hysterically funny. And I guess I’m not alone in that, because 2019 finally saw director Vyshakh return with a spin-off to the film in the very successful Madhura Raja.
Pranchiyettan and the Saint (dir. Ranjith)
Ranjith is another one of those directors about whose films I often have mixed feelings. His film Nandanam is an absolute favourite of mine (the DVD was pressed into my hands by a shop owner who told me I really needed to see it, and he was right – and it’s probably the most searched for film on my blog), and is a really lovely film. Ranjith can be incredibly insightful and often wickedly sharp in his observations (he started as a screenwriter and moved on to directing as well), but also manages to miss the mark, often in the same film. Pranchiyettan and the Saint is a perfect example of that. The story of Pranchiyettan (Mammootty) and his search for validation that leads him to set his sights on being awarded the Padma Shri, the award given for contribution to the state in various fields of endeavour, is, by turns, witty and insightful as the film peels back the layers of this man in order to help us understand what really makes him tick. But it suffers from a disappointing second half, which I found messier in its storytelling. But Pranchiyettan is a terrific character, and, once again, it’s a joy to watch Mammootty bring him to life.
Best Actor (dir. Martin Prakkat)
Mohan (Mammootty) is a village schoolteacher who has long dreamed of becoming an actor, spending his holidays visiting directors (the film features cameos from the likes of Lal Jose, Ranjith, and Blessy), trying to convince them to give him a break. When he meets with a group of young filmmakers whose references are more international than homegrown, they give him the idea that in order to succeed, he needs to go and immerse himself in an environment so he can live and breathe a potential role. He heads for Kochi, where he meets up with a motley crew of rowdies, Denver Aashan (Nedumudi Venu), the gang leader, and the men who work for him: Vandippetta Shaji (Lal), Vadival Pranchi (Salim Kumar), and Pottan (Vinayakan). Best Actor is worth watching for those four alone, but it’s also the writing/directing debut of Martin Prakkat, who would go on to work with Mammootty’s son, Dulquer Salmaan, in A.B.C.D. (2013) and, perhaps, Prakkat’s most accomplished film, Charlie (2015).
Anwar (dir. Amal Neerad, 2010)
A Coimbatore bomb blast sets off an investigation headed up by Stalin Manimaran (Prakash Raj), who immediately targets a prominent Kerala Muslim businessman Babu Sait (Lal), whom he believes to be organizing terrorist activities under the cover of his legitimate businessess; and Ayesha (Mamta Mohandas), a young woman who works in a chemical factory, who Manimaran believes supplied the materials for the explosives. Babu Sait and his men are jailed, where one day they see the arrival of a young man, Anwar (Prithviraj), in prison for money laundering. Anwar impresses Babu Sait when he takes to looking after an older, frail inmate who is bullied by some of the others, and Babu Sait takes Anwar under his wing, arranging for his bail to have him released from prison, where Anwar immediately shows his loyalty by forcing a gang trying to muscle in on Babu Sait’s territory to leave. Babu Sait suggests that Anwar give some thought to his life choices, and how he can best support the Muslim community, gradually drawing him into the gang’s terrorist activities.
And while it’s true that too many films fall easily into the “Muslim as terrorist” idea, and also true that Anwar is a film about Muslim terrorism, it at least acknowledges that this is a very complicated thing. Yes, some Muslims turn to terrorist acts because they feel that’s the best way to protect their community – and the simple fact that in the face of any attack, the first ones to be suspected are Muslims, is the beginning of the idea that we need to look at the reason why young Muslims like Anwar turn to this way of protecting their faith. The film shows Manimaran and his men tightening the surveillance around Babu Sait and his people, even to the point of threatening their families (women, sisters, daughters). And Anwar himself his a complex figure: there’s more to him than meets the eye, and the film gradually shows us what motivates his actions. Well worth watching for how it handles this difficult subject, for Amal Neerad’s direction, for the dialogues from the terrific writer Unni R, and for a small appearance by Nithya Menon as Anwar’s sister.
Oru Naal Varum (dir. T. K. Rajeev Kumar)
It’s probably not fair to refer to Oru Naal Varum as a film that signals the end of an era, but it’s easy to see why one might be tempted to think that. Directed by T. K. Rajeev Kumar (Pavithram, Kannezhuthi Pottum Thottu), written by Sreenivasan, and starring Sreenivasan and Mohanlal, Oru Naal Varum makes one long for their films from an earlier time. Sreenivasan the writer attempts to create another film with a social message – in this case, about the corruption that creeps through the system of land and building permits. And there are moments that are, indeed, sharp and funny, with both actors playing beautifully off of each other. As well, there is fifteen-year-old Nazriya Nazim as Sreenivasan’s daughter (her last role billed as “child actor” before she went on to star in films like Neram, Ohm Shanthi Oshaana, and Bangalore Days). But the script is nowhere near a match for the best of Sreenivasan’s social message films (see Sandhesam for perhaps the best example of that), and features a regressive subplot about the estranged wife of the main character and the mother of his child and a custody battle. Oru Naal Varum is a serviceable family entertainer, occasionally funny, but one which showed that there was space for a newer generation of artists and filmmakers to breathe some life into Malayalam cinema.
Drona 2010 (dir. Shaji Kailas)
So, apparently the makers of Drona 2010 were a superstitious enough bunch that they were a bit worried about just naming their film “Drona” after the failures of other films named Drona (one Telugu, the other Hindi, though I have to say that the Hindi Drona is an especial guilty pleasure for me), and that’s why they added the “2010” tag to the title. And apparently when Drona 2010 was dubbed into Hindi it was called “The Return of Chandramukhi” – which I found interesting, because the first time I watched this film, my first thought was that it was kind of a Mammootty version of Manichitrathazhu, the Mohanlal starring about a woman with a multiple personality disorder and the seemingly supernatural events in a haunted household – a film that was remade in Tamil, starring Rajnikanth, and titled “Chandramukhi”.
And if it seems that I’m writing my way around the plot of this film, I guess it’s because, well, not a lot really happens in the film, apart from mysterious events in an old mansion that is supposedly haunted by a woman named Savithri (we know this, because she leaves her name in manjadikuru — red seeds– as a kind of calling card). But this is how I often feel about movies from director Shaji Kailas, who makes massy action films that are generally not my cup of tea (and which can be hugely problematic in their portrayal and treatment of women). Here, great actors like Thilikan and Manoj K Jayan pretty much chew up the scenery. Mammootty plays a double role as Kunjunni, who wants to buy the ancestral home Savithri haunts, and who ends up dead, and as Pattazhi Madhavan Namboothiri, a tantric who decides to get to the bottom of his brother’s death. The theme song, however, is terrific, the second half of the film is better than the first, and the last fifteen minutes of the film are pretty good, when Manoj K Jayan really gets a chance to sink his teeth into his character and its personalities, and Mammootty just gets to do what he does best in this kind of film, glower and kick butt.
And if I’ve put this film on the list, it’s because, like Oru Naal Varum, it’s interesting to consider that what worked in the 80s and 90s wasn’t going to always work as we entered a new age of Malayalam filmmaking.
T.D. Dasan Std. VI B (dir. Mohan Raghavan)
One day, Dasan (Master Alexander) needs to sew a button back onto his shirt, and he goes searching for thread in his mother’s trunk, where he finds an address for his father, who had left them years before. He decides to write a letter to him – which is delivered to the home of Nandakumar (Biju Menon) and his daughter Ammu (Tina Rose), who are now living in the house where the previous tenant had Dasan’s father as his driver. Nandakumar asks their housekeeper Madhavan (Jagadish) to make sure the letter gets to its recipient, but the letter eventually ends up in the hands of Ammu, who decides to write back to Dasan, pretending to be his father, without thinking of the consequences her actions might have.
Filmmaker Mohan Raghavan won a number of awards for this film, including a Kerala State Film award for Best Debut Director, but he never had the chance to fulfil his potential as a filmmaker, dying a year after the release of his film. The film may not have made a big splash at the box office, but it was a small, sincere story about a boy starved for a father’s affections. It was never preachy even as it asked us, as viewers, to consider its messages, and it featured several really great, understated performances.
Kutty Srank (dir. Shaji N. Karun)
When a body washes ashore, three women approach the local police to identify it. Revamma (Padmapriya), Pemmana (Kamalinee Mukherjee) and Kali (Meenakumari) each have had a relationship with Kutty Srank (Mammootty), and each of them recounts her story, although only Kali believes that the body is not that of Kutty Srank.
Shaji Karun is a director firmly planted in the art house film wheelhouse, with films like Piravi and Vanaprastham (amongst others), and Kutty Srank is no exception, going on to win a number of National Awards, including for Best Feature Film. The film is gorgeous and fascinating, with Mammootty delivering a compelling and engaging performance requiring him to play the same character, but with nuances depending on how that character is perceived by each of the women. Isaac Thomas Kottukapally’s terrific score and songs draws on the Kerala Christian tradition of Chavittu Nadakam, and much of the film’s middle portion involves the staging of Carelman Charitham (about the Emperor Charlemagne), in which Kutty Srank and Pemmana play central roles. One of my greatest regrets is never having seen the film on a proper cinema screen, and I’m hoping one day that might happen.