Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Odiyan

ODIYAN. The expectation was that big. And the hype went on and on so that people expected the moon. That is the problem and the reason probably why there was so much of badmouthing happening.
Odiyan is actually an okay movie. Honestly. Made in the conventional mould, director Shrikumar Menon, an adman, is a debutant in the feature film category. Given that, the opening scenes are riveting.
 Odiyan stories abound, in the Malabar region and this is but one story of perhaps the last Odiyan. Unlike ghost and yakshi stories, the Odiyan was real and people knew who it was. But when and how he would strike was the surprise that people dreaded. The equivalent of a modern day goonda. At night, in the dim light of a coconut palmleaf torch, the Odiyan, who came dressed in oxen garb or any other animal, could literally spring a surprise and frighten a man into a faint or cause him to fall and hurt himself. That was all that an Odiyan did. Now that's the background of the story.
Mohanlal, the Odiyan, (Odiyan Manickan) is huge, supple and has made many enemies in the village. His role is larger than life and he lives up to it. The emotional scenes do connect with the viewer, trolls notwithstanding. He makes the fights convincing. The climax is another story altogether.   Only the dialect that Mohanlal speaks sticks out like a sore thumb. There is nothing North Kerala or Palakkadan in his speech. It is Mohanlal talking. That could have been corrected at least while dubbing. The other characters like Siddique speak a differrent dialect. He is very good.  Manju Warrier's dialogues too are not true to the region.
The crass villain is played by Prakash Raj in his usual style.  
 Through a series of flashbacks the story of Odiyan Manickan's life unfolds, of how he had no choice but to inherit the profession of his forbears, coaxed by his grandfather, played ably by Manoj Joshi. Some of the villagers, conventional all black or all white characters make the story happen. Of them Manju Warrier is the best. Sparks of her performances in Kannezhuthi Pottum thottu or Kanmadam are visible. Background music is very good.
The climax is....well...unpredictably botched up.
 Mohanlal fans will love it. Others can see it for its traditional folklore content.

Sunday, December 2, 2018

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 it’s live footage for me! Will she, won't she? He looks distraught, plus sheepish. Wish I could lipread. Darn....there goes the bloody scooter....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!”