This post first appeared on Totally Filmi on January 4, 2020.
Traffic (dir. Rajesh Pillai)
A cinema superstar. A discredited traffic constable. A surgeon about to celebrate his first year wedding anniversary. A young journalist just starting his first day on the job. Their friends, their partners, their families, their colleagues. All of these seemingly disparate people connected on one day, by one thing: traffic.
I hadn’t watched Rajesh Pillai’s Traffic since it came out, and I wondered if I would love it as much now as I did then. It’s often cited as The Film that started the Malayalam New Gen movement, and although I could probably make an argument that it isn’t, there’s no doubting that it was, in some ways, a film ahead of its time, not only for how well it uses the hyperlink formula to weave its stories together, but in how its tone is completely unexpected for a film billed as a thriller. I was reminded so much of Aashiq Abu’s more recent film Virus in that way. Both films have a talented extended cast. Both films deal with a medical emergency (a Nipah virus outbreak/a heart transplant) in ways that are understated, and yet which still manage to build tension in order to keep me hanging on the edge of my seat. Both films underplay emotions, allowing those emotions to build and have weight, rather than relying on manipulative melodrama. Both films are a race against time, creating tension but never overwhelming the story.
Sadly, Rajesh Pillai’s story is another one of those of an untimely death bringing a promising career to an end – Pillai died the day after the release of his film Vettah in 2016, and before the release of his own remake of Traffic in Hindi. But Traffic stands as a testament to his skill as a filmmaker, and for me remains just as engaging now as it did when I first saw it in 2011.
City of God (dir. Lijo Jose Pellissery)
For his second feature, Lijo Jose Pellissery turned to a hyperlink or non-linear style in order to tell the stories of several people whose paths will cross and re-cross throughout the film. The film follows Tamil migrant workers (one of whom is again played by Indrajith, another by house fave Parvathy), the local land mafia (one of the enforcers is played by Indrajith’s brother, Prithviraj), the widow of a real estate businessman (Shweta Menon), a Mollywood starlet (Rima Kallingal). The film was a massive flop, which is something I couldn’t wrap my ahead around when I watched it, though the film was well received critically. Pellissery is a director at the forefront of the Malayalam New Gen cinema movement, and I wondered if it, perhaps, the film might have been a little bit ahead of its time, but that doesn’t explain the fact that another film from this year, Traffic (also on this list) also used the hyperlink format to tell its story, to much more success. City of God gives us characters and stories that are compelling and draw on important themes and Kerala culture, often using humour or a sense of the absurd, rounded out by excellent music from Prashant Pillai (who started his career as a music director with Pellissery’s first film, Nayakan, in 2010, and who has gone on to produce excellent music not only in Malayalam cinema but also in several other industries).
Snehaveedu (dir. Sathyan Anthikad)
Snehaveedu (“The House of Love”) is one of the films that’s kind of a marker for me in how far I’ve come in my Malayalam film watching. When I first saw it, in 2011, I hadn’t seen any other Sathyan Anthikad films – this was a time before the expansion of streaming services, and I had to rely on DVDs to see films, and older, classic Malayalam movies, if they were to be found online at all (and many weren’t) pretty much didn’t exist with subtitles at all. Even if I could find versions of the film to purchase, they were usually VCDs without subtitles. So I had no references against which to judge a Sathyan Anthikad film – having never seen his films from the Golden Age of Malayalam cinema, like Nadodikkattu, Varavelpu, and Sandhesam, all of which Malayalee friends spoke of with reverence.
In the intervening years, I have managed to see those films, and what a joy they are! As for Snehaveedu, at the time I felt it was a solid, well-crafted family entertainer, and I think that still holds true today. Anthikad (who also wrote the film) gives us a story so grounded in this Kerala village where Ajayan (Mohanlal) returns to live with his mother Ammukutty Amma (Sheela), only to have his blissful life turned upside down by the arrival of a young man (Rahul Pillai) claiming to be his son.
I also find it interesting that a director so associated with so many classic Malayalam films has continued to work, mainly in this space of family dramas, but has, in more recent years, started to draw on the actors who have been part of the New Gen film wave – getting Nivin Pauly, Fahadh Faasil, and Dulquer Salmaan to star in his films, representing, perhaps, the ability to straddle generations and still produce likable films.
Melvilasom (dir. Madhav Ramadasan)
Madhav Ramadasan’s debut film is a fascinating look at the court martial of a Dalit soldier, Sawar Ramachandran (Parthiban), accused of killing one officer, Captain Verma, and attempting to kill another one, Captain Kapoor (Krishna Kumar) one night while on guard duty. Ramachandran admits to the killing, so at first it would just seem that the court martial is just a formality with an obvious outcome. Even Captain Vikas Roy (Suresh Gopi), who acts for the defense, knows that it will be impossible to change the outcome of the trial. But Roy refuses to allow the court to take the easy route to an inevitable death sentence, feeling that justice would best be served by trying to find the underlying causes that led to the night’s events. Roy seeks to find the truth of the matter, something that the exemplary soldier and decent human being that Ramachandran is, deserves.
Ramadasan’s film is stagey and theatrical, not surprising for a work that started as a Hindi stage play: Swadesh Deepak’s “Court Martial”, adaptated for the Malayalam stage by Soorya Krishna Moorthy (who also adapted that version for the screenplay of the film). Filmed in just over a week, set only in the courtroom, and pretty much running in real time as the trial unfolds, Melvilasom is also the perfect vehicle for actor Suresh Gopi, whose acting style can also be highly theatrical. Parthiban has very few words of dialogue, but his performance as Sawar Ramachandran is also incredibly moving, his face impassive as his court martial progresses, but revealing levels of emotions he can barely contain as the circumstances leading to the night’s events are slowly peeled back by Captain Roy.
Beautiful (dir. V.K. Prakash)
Stephen Louis (Jayasurya) is rich, smart, frank, and takes pleasure in much of what life has to offer, whether it’s the movies he watches addictively, or the agile acrobatics of a thief who is chased away from his home. He flirts with his doctor and his housekeeper, and misses the music of his deceased friend, Sreenivas. But Stephen Louis is also a quadraplegic, looked after and protected by his manager Kamalu (Nandu) and driver Karunan (Jayan). One day, he and Kamalu visit a restaurant in a hotel, where they hear John (Anoop Menon), a musician who takes on odd jobs and small gigs so he can pay for his sister’s education. Stephen sends Kamalu to hire John to come and sing for him. At first, John refuses, but after seeing an interview with Stephen on television (in which Stephen refuses to be drawn into the interviewer’s narrative of portraying him as a victim), he agrees to take the job.
Beautiful is film that I really wish I could love more, though what bothers me about it are, for the most part, small things: a background score from Ratheesh Vega that I can’t connect with, and even Jomon T. John’s cinematography. I appreciated Stephen Louis as a character, and that Anoop Menon (who also wrote the script) gave us a disabled character who is brash and even sexualized, but there were moments that I found Stephen’s ogling of the potential house maids a little creepy (just as I would have in any able-bodied character). That said, the relationship between the two men that’s at the heart of this film is really well portrayed, with Stephen having no patience for anyone who pities him (one of the films he watches at one point in the film is Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Guzaarish, where he finds Hrithik Roshan’s portrayal of a quadraplegic in search of an assisted death offensive and incomprehensible). I’ve always been a fan of Jayasurya, but Beautiful proved he could do more than side characters and supporting roles, and laid the groundwork for many of his more recent films and excellent performances.
Chaappa Kurish (dir. Samir Thahir)
Samir Thahir is another one of those triple threats, working variously as a cinematographer, producer, and director. Chaapa Kurish (“Heads or Tails”) was his directorial debut, co-written by Thahir and Unni R., and starring Fahadh Faasil and Vineeth Sreenivasan. The movie tells the story of two men, from very different social circles: one, Arjun (Fahadh Faasil), high-powered and successful in the construction industry; the other, Ansari (Vineeth Sreenivasan) a poor man who does menial jobs in a supermarket – two sides, as it were, of a proverbial coin. The film is interesting for a number of reasons, including the fact that it was based on a South Korean film called Handphone – there are many jokes and passing references in more recent films about how the upcoming generation of filmmakers look to South Korean cinema for their inspiration, and Chaappa Kurish is certainly a good example of this. And it used its two stars well – Fahadh Faasil could play this kind of entitled asshole in his sleep, as could Vineeth Sreenivasan his meek nobody – and the film uses that to advantage to allow us to instantly connect with these characters. But it also shows us how they transform as the balance of power shifts, as Arjun becomes more desperate to get his phone back, and as Ansari (who has found his phone) suddenly finds himself in a position of control, probably for the first time in his life.
Salt N’ Pepper (dir. Aashiq Abu)
Aashiq Abu’s second film tells the story of Kalidasan (Lal), a middle-aged archeologist and Maya (Shweta Menon – in a bit of irony, dubbed by Bhagyalakshmi), a dubbing artiste in her late thirties. Both are single, both are independent and set in their ways, both are foodies (Kalidasan’s motto is “we live to eat” and Maya reconnects with her late mother through the food she prepares). The two meet when Maya, remembering her mother’s dosas, suddenly has a craving and phones to order some. The salt and pepper of the film’s title refer both to the love of food that connects everything in the film, but it’s also a reference to getting older – Kalidasan at one point bemoins his “salt and pepper” beard, and everyone in Maya’s circle treats her like an “old maid”. When the two decide to finally meet after sharing recipes over the phone for some time, their own insecurities about aging cause each of them to send someone younger to the meeting – Kalidas sends his nephew Manu (Asif Ali) and Maya sends her younger friend Meenakshi (Mythali).
When I first watched the film, I felt it was kind of a breath of fresh air, where the more mature romance takes a back seat to the younger one, and, to be honest, I still feel the same way after all these years. Probably my only reservation at this point (having done so much more film watching and reading) is the inclusion of the Adivasi Mooppan (Kelu Mooppan) – Kalidasan brings Mooppan to his home, ostensibly to keep him safe (he’s wearing a precious earring that Kalidasan fears will be stolen from him), but mostly in order so he and his cook Babu (Baburaj, playing deliciously against type) can learn more about cooking from him. It’s not an offensive portrayal, but it ends up as a bit of a footnote in a film that otherwise is lovingly seasoned with so many delicious little details. That said, it’s still a film that resonates after all these years, and the food sequences remain some of the best in Malayalam cinema.
Adaminte Makan Abu (dir. Salim Ahamed)
Adaminte Makan Abu (“Abu, Son of Adam”) tells the story of Abu (Salim Kumar, who won a National Award for this terrific performance), an elderly salesman of attar and religious books, and his wife Aishumma (Zarina Wahab), and their life-long wish to go for Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca required of Muslims who have the means to make the journey. Abu and Aishumma have spent years scrimping and saving for this one purpose, and they finally seem to have enough money to do so. The film is a moving testament to faith and perserverence – just when Abu seems to have all the pieces in place to make this dream a reality, a series of events result in him not having all the money he and his wife will need for the trip. Abu is strict in his observance of the rules around the pilgrimage: he and Aishumma visit neighbours and acquaintances in order to make sure they make amends for anything they might have done, and when the tree Abu sells for the final bit of money he needs for the trip turns out to be hollow, he refuses to take the original payment from the sawmill owner for it, despite the man’s assurances that he wishes to give it so Abu may make the trip. When his neighbour, the local school master (Nedumudi Venu) offers him money to help, Abu refuses, telling him he may only accept money for the Hajj from a blood relative. Ultimately, Abu and Aishumma are not able to make the pilgrimage. The film is incredibly moving and sad, but also gives us hope: the film ends with Abu planting a new jackfruit sapling and going to the mosque to pray. Adaminte Makan Abu is one of those little gems of a film found so often in Malayalam cinema, where a terrific story and an actor (Kumar, who normally does small comedy/character roles), are given a chance to shine.
Khaddama (dir. Kamal)
Razak Kottekkad (Sreenivasan) is a social worker in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, whose job is to look out for migrant workers from Kerala. Sadly, much of his job involves trying to identify dead bodies – tagged only as “Unknown Indians” – in order to make sure their families are informed and the bodies can be shipped back home. He learns about the case of a missing khaddama (“housemaid”) named Aswathi (Kavya Madhavan) whose Saudi Arabian sponsors have accused of stealing from them and running away.
As Razak tries to track Aswathi down, we learn her story in a series of flashbacks. She was married briefly to Radhakrishnan (Biju Menon), but after his untimely death by drowning, she agrees to go to the gulf to work as a housemaid in order to support her family. But Aswathi finds herself in a terrible position: her passport is taken away, she is treated as a slave, and beaten and abused by the family she works for. She manages to escape, and is eventually rescued by a truck driver, Bharathan (Murali Gopy), but the two of them are arrested for adultery and are put into prison, until Razak can track them down and arrange for them to be released and deported back to India.
I’m often of two minds about Kamal’s films: I think the subjects and themes he chooses for many of his films are really quite interesting, whether it’s the story of J.C. Daniel (considered the father of Malayalam cinema), or of Kerala author Ramala Das. I hadn’t known about the history of Kerala migrant workers in the gulf states before I’d seen Khaddama, and the film was a good place to start to learn about this important aspect of Kerala social history (remittance money from gulf state workers is an important source of income), as it highlights the problems of abuse that far too many migrant workers face. But I’m also often frustrated with Kamal’s treatments of his themes – his films tend to work at a superficial level where many characters exist as stereotypes. This is certainly true of Khaddama, where the Saudis are seen, mostly, as nasty and boorish. Razak, though, is the moral core that runs through the film, and Sreenivasan invests him with warmth and concern, especially in situations which are, more often than not, tragic.
Urumi (dir. Santosh Sivan)
Director/cinematographer Santosh Sivan explores the theme of globalization in his film Urumi, contrasting the attempt, in the present day, of a multi-national mining company to purchase the ancestral property of Krishna Das (Prithviraj), which has been leased out to an NGO to run a school with the arrival of western explorers wishing to take advantage of the riches and natural resources of Kerala. Krishna Das and his friend Thanseer (Prabhu Deva) end up kidnapped by a tribal leader, Thangachan (Arya), who informs Krishna Das that he is a descendent of Chirakkal Kelu Nayanar, whose father was a general in the Chirakkal kingdom who was killed in an attempt to rescue his son, who had been captured by Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama. The film is important from the perspective of viewing this western European colonization from an Indian perspective – again, something I hadn’t considered, as my university history courses told this story only from a colonizer perspective. It’s also gorgeous to watch (as is fitting from a cinematographer of the calibre of Santosh Sivan), and I was lucky enough that I managed to see it in a cinema – albeit without subtitles, though much of the story was easy to follow.
Many of the issues I had with the film when I saw it remained on my more recent viewing of it – the western actors are mostly awful, and I’m not sure the globalization theme is well crafted. But the film is gorgeous to watch, the music (Deepak Dev) is terrific, and there are many interesting performances dotted throughout the cast, not the least of which is Jagathy Sreekumar (one of the most prolific actors in Malayalam cinema whose career was sadly cut short as the result of a car accident in 2012) as Chenichery Kurup, a scheming minister to the king of Chirakkal.