Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Pathemari



Pathemari……I sat tongue tied till the end. Relationships are redefined in Pathemari. The cyberyug generation may not be able to relate to the hero, Narayanan, if you narrate the story but Salim Ahamed’s script cleverly does that. I saw young red eyes and noses at the end of the movie. Success is redefined. Also love. Maternal, filial and a lot more that the nuclear family destroyed or diluted. That it’s a period film that extends to the present is beside the point.
That is the single most important contribution of director Salim Ahamed to society, through cinema. And Salim Ahmed is a guy who writes and rewrites his script till it’s tight. His direction seems premeditated and mature.
The story: Risking life, travelling to the new oil rich Gulf in a pathemari, toiling hard to repay debts and live up to the expectations of a huge extended family is the lot of the protagonist, Mammooty. Restrained and realistic, Mammooty as Pallikkal Narayanan will be etched in our hearts for a long long time to come. Dialogue delivery, gait, mannerisms…. there is no Mammooty at all, only Pallikkal Narayanan. All the characters in Pathemari have their own space, that is the beauty of the script. Sreenivasan, Joy Mathew, Siddique, Sunil Sugadha, Jewel Mary, Anju Aravind, Siddique’s son, Shaheem Siddique, and a host of others.
Highlights? The parting shot of Narayanan, summing up the story of an entire generation that brought in hard earned petro dollars to buck up our economy.
A bigger highlight is Madhu Ambat’s magical cinematography. Every mood is captured with such sensitivity that the story and pictures jell into one whole.  The picturisation of the beautiful song, Pathemari…..sung soulfully by Shahbaz Aman, composed by Bijibal, is a treat on big screen. Every shot translates the mood. The lighting is poetic. It sure is heady, the music, photography, lyrics, sound design by Resool Pookkutty. (Yes, one feels the difference and the superior quality)
 Eros International which has distributed this movie came into the Malayalam scene with Life of Josutty. Whaaat a contrast!
Crisp editing by Vijay Shankar sees to it that there is no lagging, yet no untoward jumps. The one minus point is that its realism is almost docu like, yet cinematic license is resorted to in a cloying coincidence at the fag end of the film.
  Salim Ahmed’s outing with Madhu Ambat started with Adaminte Makan Abu, went on with Kunjanandante kada and now, this.
When I went to interview Madhu Ambat about four years ago, some one was with him. I waited till he left a few minutes later. Towards the end of the interview, he told me about Salim Ahamed’s project and then said,”Oh..I should have introduced him to you. He was the one who was here.” That was a close miss for me!




Sunday, October 4, 2015

He, she and old me!



A two-minute short story

A partially opened window (thank God), stubborn body attached to a bed (eyes bright nevertheless) and a mind still fresh and romantic despite the wrinkled skin. What more to shoo off boredom?
Today is Tuesday. It’s a sunny day. The gate next door is half open.  It’s a courier agency centre. Now I'm enjoying live footage..and live..mind you, not on some tiny screen. Its 10D! 
Will she, won't she? He looks distraught, plus sheepish. He is talking to her. Wish I could lipread. Darn....there goes the bloody scooter....what a time to screech in.....the momentum is disrupted.
Huh? A handkerchief? Now why? I thought girls don't cry these days, they only fool gullible guys who think they are smart. Ah…her face is turning this side…stupid curtain, what a time to sway in the breeze.
“Preetha….Preetha, where are you? I want some air, open the window a little wider will you?........Ah…that’s better.” 
 Is it tears? Or plain, unromantic sweat? Why did she fish out the hanky? Don’t they have any emotion called love any more? Well, there goes the hanky into her bag. Material misses, all. A hint of a smile crosses her face and he…yes, yes..he is actually blushing….thank God..the world is still a nice place to live in….there’s love, there’s compassion…empathy..
At peace with the world once more and the window opened wider, I try to look at the expression on their faces. Enveloped by straightened hair that fell on either side of her face, it worked like a dupatta. Cheap, light blue printed (can’t see what the print is) synthetic top and a pair of jeans,  frayed at the ankles. A certain steely look that betrayed no emotion.  He seems all flustered. Did he finally tell her? His cream shirt is bathed in sweat.
Both rush into the building, as a car stops at the gate. Looks like their boss is coming. Dog in the manger! “Preetha…is my orange juice ready?  I want it sweet. I said I want it SWEEEET.”
The next morning is rainy. “Preetha..open the window, both sides..wide open, please.”
Now where are they? He should have been here by 9.30 and she by 10. It’s already 11.  Maybe they are working inside today and will clear the parcels lying outside later. Hmm wonder what happened yesterday..
The morning next is here….Time: 11.30 am. Window open…but no sign of her or him. A pile of parcels lie untended. The boss makes an appearance. With him are two guys and they are shown the parcels. Where is she? Where is he? Did he propose?
“Preetha?”
“Here’s your orange juice.”
“What’s happening next door?”
“New staff. The old ones were caught red handed with the money they stole from the locker two days ago.”
The blushes…. the hanky…. she caught him and he had to part with half the moolah.  And both got caught. So it wasn’t love?
“Preetha..close the window!”