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.

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!”

        

'96 tugs at your heart

Ah…….’96…..a movie which gets right into your heart and beyond. How love comes about and what it does to nubile hearts…told so sensitively and with empathy. C Premkumar, a cinematographer turned director’s maiden effort may change viewing attitudes of audiences. No mindless orgy of violence, or heroism for heroism’s sake, expensive settings and costumes, song sequences in alien land with pronounced trick photography or forced comic sequences.  It’s as close to realism as possible. The full houses even in Kerala speak of the people’s connect with honest sentiments. First timers always put in their 150 per cent effort. Premkumar certainly has.

The movie has flashbacks intelligently scattered at opportune moments, just when you were wondering what…..An ordinary middle class school and a loving bunch of high school kids. A shy boy and a pretty girl who can sing. They harbor feelings for each other but don’t make it very obvious. Classmates are in the know.  The sweetness of the film lies in the way these aspects are handled…cut to the present…a burly man touching 40, leading a rough and tough life, who is a photographer and a teacher, coming by his old school amidst work. Memories rekindled, classmates contacted and a reunion organized.

Twenty two years melt into nothingness as the buddies (class of ’96) meet. The old sweethearts who were abruptly separated while still in school also meet face to face. At this juncture, it would not be fair to not talk of the bgm that brings out their heart rending feelings. Music is by Govind Vasantha, of our own Thaikkudam Bridge. Throughout the movie, music is a huge value addition. The story is told in simple, apt visuals, from the heart, of the heart. 

Vijay Sethupathy as Ram is lovable in the lead and Trisha as Janu has a lot of scope to emote which she does very well. She appears in just two sets of clothes as the story is played out in a single night. Her expressive face says it all.

The younger version of Ram is played by Adithya Bhaskar and that of Trisha, Gouri G Kishan. These teenagers get a permanent place in your hearts. Not a scene lags and the script ensures that you are right in the midst of the action. Even the short role of the teacher is so realistic and well directed. Young Janu, full of innocence, yet individualistic, gets to put across a gamut of emotions which she does with elan. Both of them though newcomers, come out in flying colours.

Devadarshini acts as one of the classmates. Her daughter Niyathi, who looks just like her, plays the younger version. Gouri, of course, is not related to Trisha but her smile and demeanour is convincingly Trisha junior. So many scenes stay with you long after you leave the cinema. To list them would spoil the viewing experience of those who have yet to see the movie.

’96, sweet, simple and nostalgic, leaves you stuck in college or school.

Nadikayar Thilakam Mahanati

Savithri: My favourite childhood actor, when we saw only Tamil movies in Malaysia. My sister and I would finish our job, which was to boil the milk, very early in the evening  and then start pestering my mother about going for a movie, after discussing at length about which movie to see, the whole morning, on a holiday of course. Gemini-Savithri movies would be the priority of course. The movie theatres, Cathay  and Jubilee, (in Raub town, Pahang State) were nine miles away from Cheroh estate (rubber) where we lived, in the late fifties and early sixties.   My father, of course, would oblige.

I think I would have seen 90 per cent of Savithris films. Later, when she passed away, I was a journalist with The Indian Express and I had the privilege of writing her obituary. Sad to say, I don’t have a copy. But I distinctly remember my first sentence : “Kaalangalil Aval Vasantham…Kalaikalile Aval oviyam..maaathangalil aval Maargazhi….malargalile aval Malligai…the Kannadasan song by P B Srinivasan, starring  Gemini Ganesan and Savithri. There was no internet then, in 1981 and hardly anybody to ask in Kerala. Yet I remembered the song and scene I had seen 20 years ago, in which Gemini Ganesan describes her thus. The film, Paava Mannippu was released in 1961. I wish I can get hold of that obituary now, written 36 plus years ago. Unforgettable songs portrayed by Savithri include the all time great Janaki number Singaravelane Deva ….., Enna enna Inikkudu…..

The biopic is a late tribute to the plucky actor who defied circumstances to conquer the South Indian film scene and then fought adversities in life, including alcoholism, bravely. Savithri had the courage to fade away also in dignity, away from the arc lights, dying at a relatively young age of 45. Anybody in her plight might well have contemplated suicide.

The biopic speaks as much as is possible about Savithri. It's Telugu centric but Tamil cinema gets a good share. She shone in both languages. The story of the journalist who brought Savithris story to the world is also part of the biopic.

 Keerthy Suresh, so young and shapely, carries off the role of Savithri with such elan. It’s the spirit of the actor that she has imbibed, that comes through so well. And then the magnetic smile…and elegance which Savithri exuded. Plus the beauty and charm, of course.

  Our own producer Suresh Kumar may well be known as Keerthy’s father, I’m afraid, despite his immense contribution to Malayalam cinema.  And Menaka too, as her mother.

 Keerthy's Maaya Bazaar scene deserves special mention. She simply shone in it. The character who played Ranga Rao in Maya Bazaar was splendid. The Kalyana Samayal saadam song sequence is unforgettable, almost as good as the real one in the movie. (Maybe because it’s another old favourite of mine. I love the hahahahahah part best)

Dulquar Salman is good but he did not earn the  Kaadal Mannan tag. Maybe he wasn’t given enough scenes to portray a flirt. The flashbacks could have been handled better by the director Nag Aswin and the script lags in some places while it races in some others.  Clarity is lost in some scenes…about her father and also about Pushpavally, who gets just passing reference. If her early years were confined to lesser footage maybe her later years would have got more prominence and clarity.  

But a director whose second film is this certainly calls for kudos.

So happy that Savithri’s life is picturised, that she may not be forgotten for ages to come…  

Parava, Mattancherry's own

Parava flies very high with Littil Swayamp Paul, its cinematographer and endearing child stars, Amal Shah and Govind Pai. Director Soubin Shahir's maiden movie would have been hard to beat, had there been a story. Right from the credits to the ending, the freshness is all pervasive 
The credits are written on the weather beaten walls and doors of ancient Mattancherry and Fort Kochi, in a child's handwriting. This is a precursor to the child interest of Parava. Irshad and Haseeb are heart stealers. Their pranks and fun filled school life are absorbing. Littil's camera brings out so much, filming the dark alleys, the birds' flights and their behaviour. He brings out the children's expressions so realistically, definitely with Soubin's wonderful direction. Realism lies behind every frame.
The situations and dialogues have outstanding humour. Shane Nigam is so cute and expressive while Srinda, always gives of her best even if it's one scene. Siddique has slowly moved away from his pet niche, humour, to a mellowed realistic character actor.. and how. Dulqar Salman looked like a fish out of water amongst the others, who all jelled into the locale.
The movie Parava should have been named 'A slice of life from Mattancherry', because that's what it gives. You wait for the story which is not around till the end. The doves, and kites all belong to Mattancherry and the characters. Only, the story is missing, except for tiny, interesting incidents which are strung together. Loose ends stare at you in Parava. Yet I enjoyed the cinematography and the acting...Tom Shine Chacko is so good you feel sorry he is not used well by the industry.

When the cataract came calling

Today, the journey that began on April 19 is nearly over.

 Standing on the balcony, on the fourth floor of my son's flat in Hyderabad, my daughter in law, Roshini says, "look at those violet flowers below, Amma. Are'nt they nice?"

I see no flowers, let alone violet. Off we go to LV Prasad Institute, where the doctor declares,"Cataract..surgery to be done in three months in both eyes."

Back to Kochi immediately and to another Eye Institute. Diagnosis confirmed, the date is set for surgery the following week. Five weeks later, its the turn of the other eye. What conspires in between is interesting, irritating and enlightening. I bet no one will tell you this.

Cut to first day at the Eye Institute: A little knowledge IS a dangerous thing, I found out soon. "O cataract surgery...just five minutes and its..over..." and other comments come to you over the phone, in person and watsapp. Doubts that seem silly to other people keep nagging you. After all it’s your eye, even if it’s myopic beyond compare and added to it, cataract ridden. But doctors are busy and leave the PROs to answer your questions. Ms PRO shows you four options of the intra ocular lens that will henceforth be a part of my eyes. I am all ears. She says the first costs the least (Rs.11,000) but takes a few more days to heal. The three other options cost Rs. 23,000, Rs. 26,000 and Rs 34,000 . Which do you want, she queries. Whats the difference, I make bold to ask. "There is no difference. All three give you the same result." she says without an iota of doubt. "But then....why the difference in price?"

Different companies, that's all, she says, as if talking to a moron. The feeling was mutual. We said we will decide later.

'Later' came five days after that. This time, the gentleman PRO also parroted the same lines. I decided not to stomach it. So he went further: "When you buy a branded shirt and an ordinary one they look the same, only the brand name will be there, right?" he explained, eyes wide, looking into mine. I would not buy that.

"No. Not the same. The stitching will be different, the fit and the material too will be different. So now tell me how these three are different". And then Mr PRO hesitatingly turned to the computer and showed us all the differences, albeit many, which we would have never known, and we chose the best. 

I cannot be blamed surely for thinking that the commission for the last could be the least and the PROs were deliberately not batting for them. But I got my answers because I chose to be ‘bad’, according to many onlookers.

D-Day came and my fear almost killed me. Don't know why. One injection near the cheekbone was slightly painful, but that sealed it. Local anesthesia. And then they walk you to the surgery table. You can hardly recognise your doctor, with all those robes and gloves. It can be quite unnerving, seeing other patients, with surgery done,eyes bandaged and not scared at all. I tried to muster up courage, drawing inspiration from them. I was'nt very successful, the doctor told me later. The sweet doctor took charge of everything.  Eyes covered, it was all small noises, musical interruptions and one line conversations. I tried hard to be in savasana mode. I saw different hues, blue, red, black , some rounded forms in black and grey and what seemed like half an hour was maybe half of that, I will never know. "It has come out fine. OK?" said the doctor, as they asked me to get up.

Kind attendants calling you ‘Amma’ lead you away outside. An hour later you can go home because the hospital is really crowded with patients from all over the state.

No sleeping on the side of that eye, no bending, no lifting of weights,  no water in the vicinity of the eye and no cooking.

A tiny green basket covered the eye and yes, there was pain. One painkiller took it away. The night is scary. Will I take the basket off in my sleep and the lens too? Will I turn over to the other banned side and maim the eye? Dawnbreak came without much drama. Off to the hospital for that first review. When the nurse lifted the basket off my eye, mundane colours like that of the wall and her white uniform seemed beautiful, clear and had a freshness all their own. Awed, I cried out ‘Ayyoh”. I don’t know why really. But scared, the nurse thought I could not see. She gave me a mouthful when I said yes. The trees looked greener than ever.

But the weeks ahead tried my patience…two eyes with contrasting visions, eye drops at the drop of a hat (yes, they are that frequent), no reading, no talking much, no phone, a little TV and completely housebound, with dark glasses to hide behind. Certainly not the mistress of the house anymore, with someone else to cook, clean, shop and cut off from my family and friends, first hand. After five weeks, the same routine continues for the right eye, but healing and adjusting is quicker. My new pair of specs sit lightly on my all new eyes, myopia, a distant dream I had for close to 52 years, gone and only very little long sight.

Thank you Dr Sara Jacob, whose commitment, interest in her patients and pure professional passion are inspiring!