Premam

Has there been another movie that has so polarised the Malayalam movie audience in recent times? Everyone seems to either love the movie, or hate it; of course, with the resounding success at the box office, hit music and the piracy row, it is all but impossible to ignore the movie. I am firmly in the category of the former, by the way.

Please note that this review contains spoilers galore!

Premam depicts the rather simple story of George (Nivin Pauly), and the three loves of his life – Mary (Anupama) from his teenage years at pre-degree, Malar (Sai Pallavi) from college, and Celin (Madonna Sebastian) who finally marries him.  Of course, at first glance, this but seems to be a rehash of Cheran’s Autograph. However, the film is much more than the story; it is all about the mood, the ambience, the characters and the language that inevitably serves up a set of nostalgic memories to anyone who has grown up in Kerala in the 90s. In a nutshell, it is about the manner of storytelling rather than the story. Also, Premam firmly avoids the path that other Malayalam campus love stories such as Daisy, Aniyathipravu, Niram, Chocolate etc. (with the honorable exceptions of Sarvakalashala and Classmates) have traditionally tread on by being firmly grounded and not succumbing to the usual traps of designer clothes, foreign locations and melodrama.

Premam also excels in getting the authenticity spot-on in every aspect. The whole set-up of the local tution class above the tea shop and the “vaya nokkis” (loosely translated to Female Admirers, but not of the lecherous variety) hovering downstairs rings completely true, as I am sure many of my female friends will vouch for. The local college fight, set to the catchy “Kalippu” (loosely translated to Confrontational, but not really) is just right. Puthren also seems to just let Sai Pallavi be, which results in a very, very natural and likeable Malar; her gestures and mannerisms are so naturally Tamilian (for example, when she corrects herself upon mistaking a kurta for a shirt). For the record, this is something I have always hated about Autograph; the spoken Malayalam in it was just terrible.

Puthren also is terrific at the staging of scenes. For example, the scene where George and his friends are waiting for Mary to get down from her tution class and they end up asking “kas kas” in their lime soda one by one with the camera caressing the whole creation of the lime soda could so easily have been filmed as just another regular scene with the 3 friends exchanging witticisms. Another conversational scene in the canteen during George’s college days follows a plate of “fish fry” being carried by a waiter to their table, rather than concentrating on the characters and their dialogues. And how perfect is the “Java” scene – every computer science engineer surely has attended at least a couple of inane classes like this in college.

On the performances front, Nivin Pauly leads the pack with a completely natural act even as he depicts 3 stages of George’s life, subtly altering his appearances and body language across each stage.  Nivin also exhibits a natural charm that had lead to all the unfair comparisons with the Mohanlal of yore. George’s breakdown as he walks away from an oblivious Malar is a standout scene. All the 3 debutante girls do a charming job, although Sai Pallavi does steal the thunder with her screen presence and expressive eyes. Vinay Fort deserves a special mention; as the naive but likeable Java professor who nurses a crush for Malar (and even sings a Tamil song for her), he is a riot. George’s gang of friends are completely realistic too, with the actors seldom resorting to melodrama.

In the end, Premam is a truimph of the director. The staging (as mentioned above) and the detailing clearly depcit that the screenplay is a labor of love. I loved how Puthren resorts to facial hair as the depiction of stages in the protagonists’ life (there is even an offhand remark in the first segment of how George has just had his “virgin shave”), reminding me of a “beard phase” we had in college ourselves (one of the few good memories from PG, let me add!). There is good old ribbing of the Malaylee mentality as George and his gang of friends rail and rant at various societal injustices to the common man, while trashing the abusive fiance (Puthren himself). I even thought there was a “meta” reference in how Puthren snorts coke in the movie (he is a “new age” director, you see!). Above all, in grounding the film to reality, Puthren succeeds in bring a “slice of life” flavor to movie; after a while I almost felt that I was hanging out with George and his gang myself and did not even notice the 3+ hours that the movie ran.

Verdict: Must Watch!

 

 

 

Ra.One – Bullet Point Report

• All the scenes involving Ra.One – except for the climax – are well executed. Sadly, the movie has other scenes too.
• This has to be one of the worst opening sequences in any film, ever.
  Its official; SRK should not ever do long hair again (unless he plays Lizardman or something similarly reptile-like).
• The special appearances are yawn inducing. Rajnikanth looks old and haggard – did Red Chillies run out of money to apply the Photoshop touchups ;)?
• What is it with SRK and Tamilian spoofs? He did a terrible one is OSO, and the one here is only marginally better – at least, in terms of Tamil dialogues (expecting the right accent is too much, I guess). The noodles scene was gross, though.
• The child acts reasonably well; just the fact that his emotions registered under that hideous wig says a lot.
• Kareena is terrible here – reminds one of her Khushi days. The sole saving grace is the “Chammak Challo” number. She still delivers that one moment, where she turns and smiles with the red in her eyes.
• After Cash and Ra.One, it is evident that Anubhav Sinha should stop doing any kind of humor and concentrate only on songs & action sequences. Designing video games would be a good career option as well, IMHO.
• As for SRK, he tries hard to make the movie work, but succeeds only to some extent. As the bumbling game developer, he is a bit endearing despite the hamming and the Tamil stereotyping etc – especially in the sequences where he tries to reach out to his son. However he screws up G.One by playing him as a mixture of Terminator II and Rahul.
• It is when you watch the forced humor here that you get to appreciate what someone like Karan Johar can do with his screenplay and dialogue-writing skills.
• SRK seems to be alluding to the rumors of his being bisexual as he cups Kareena’s breast and Arjun’s balls – both scenes were downright silly.
• To me, Ra.One was marginally better than Krish and Drona, as it seemed to be spoofing itself most of the time. However, it isn’t even in the same planet as Enthiran. To put things in perspective, Ra.One is sort of the like the mosquito episode in Enthiran.

7-am Arivu: Bullet Point Report

• 7-am Arivu is Surya’s “Dasavatharam”, and I certainly do not mean that as a compliment. The first 20 minutes is paisa-vasool; but the next 2 hours provide several cringe-worthy moments that almost make you forget the first half.
• The Chinese song sounds so much like “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star…” . Did Bodhidharman introduce this song to the world too? Just asking ;).
• The whole circus background was so unnecessary. I initially thought Murugadoss was trying for some parallel to “Apoorva Sahodarargal” , but alas – or perhaps thankfully – not.
• After the movie I thought this was the 3rd superhero movie during Diwali – for Shruti Hassan could do genetic engineering, history research, ride an elephant, take up cudgels on behalf of Thamizh culture, distract museum guards, pontificate about cancer…wow!
• Except for the Bodhidharman portions, this was a disappointing performance by Surya – especially considering that he generally manages to impress even in a masala flick like “Singham”.
• It’s final. Shruti is not – NOT – a chip off the old block. She deserves full marks for trying though – very earnest:).
• Murugadoss finds a kick-ass villain, and still botches it up big time. First he overdoes the hypnotism bit until the audience groans at the umpteenth hypnotism sequence. Then he does it all over again with the zombie portions. I am sure both ideas sounded great one paper (and they do work well for while), but end up being poorly executed.
• Music sucks, especially the BGM.
• At the end of the movie, I fantasized about substituting Surya and Shruti with Vijaykanth and Namitha; the quality of the climax was firmly in “Dharmapuri” area by then. The scene where Shruti berates the scientists for not talking in Tamil was a major contributing factor in this assessment as well.
• If Aamir Khan remakes this, I’d really like to see what he concocts out of this mess of a movie.

Bhramaram (A Circular Journey): Review

After the disappointing “Calcutta News”, Blessy bounces back into some semblance of form with “Bhramaram”. Although “Bhramaram” is certainly not up to the high standards set by the director’s own “Kazhcha” and “Thanmatra”, it is nevertheless an interesting watch ably shouldered by a burly Mohanlal.

From the time Mohanlal (Jose albeit Sivankutty) lands up at stockbroker Unni’s doorstep at Coimbatore, there is an air of foreboding about “Bhramaram”. Lal’s furtive glances and expressions add to the suspense. The movie proceeds on more or less a familiar path, until that stage of the film which reveals that Unni is about to embark upon the journey of his life with Sivankutty – not exactly the most amenable of companions. It is post-intermission that the movie comes on to its own, and hurtles toward the inevitable tragic climax.

*** Spoilers ahead ***
“Bhramaram” falters mainly in its pace. For one, character development is long drawn, and not particularly effective. For instance, Blessy hammers in again and again the fact that Sivankutty loves kids (as if Mohanlal would play a paedophile in a mainstream Malayalam film). In a similar fashion, there is a completely unnecessary sequence involving a run-in with truck drivers – that whole segment ought to have been edited out. The first half of the film totters about with no real aim (except maybe to “tell” the audience again and again that Mohanlal is playing an eccentric, unpredictable character) while the second half is fairly eventful. Worst of all, the sudden “guilt-attack” and subsequent confession looks awfully forced and hurried – almost as if the producer cracked the whip or something! My gut tells me that “Bhamaram” would have worked awfully better as a true road move, with a firm editor holding the scissors. Bharathan’s “Thazhvarom” is an excellent example of a film in a similar genre being handled in a much more controlled manner.

In the end, it is once again Mohanlal who hoists the film to a different level altogether. His burly demeanor, furtive body language, and expressive eyes convey a lot more than most of his dialogues, making them redundant. Mohanlal gets completely into the skin of the eccentric Sivankutty, except during the silly flashback where everybody hams (especially the irritating kid). Suresh Menon does a good job – a very effective foil to Mohanlal.

Verdict: Mohanlal makes this a must-watch, especially as interesting movies from him seem to be becoming extinct.

Kerala Cafe: Review

Ranjith (along with Blessy, to a lesser extent) seems to view himself as the torchbearer of quality Malayalam cinema for the future – not that this is a bad thing; amongst execrable fare like “Alexander-The Great”, “Pappi Appacha” and “Pokkiriraja”, Ranjith’s recent films stand tall.

“Kerala Café” is a rare conceit for Malayalam cinema – a collection of short films by an ensemble of directors. The last time we saw several directors at the helm was for “Manichitrathazhu”, which delighted the masses and critics alike. Unfortunately “Kerala Café” is no “Manichitrathazhu”, but is nevertheless an interesting and brave attempt.

M.Padmakumar’s “Nostalgia” focuses on the hypocrisy of a Gulf expatriate (Dileep) who waxes eloquent on his homeland while outside the country, but can only find cause of complaints once in Kerala. Dileep pitches in with a decent performance, but the subject lets him down badly. Not the best way to begin a collection of short stories!

“Island Express” was weird – I need to watch this one again. It probably did not help that I watched this one after a couple of beers on a hot Chennai night! My apologies to writer-director Shankar Ramakrishnan, who has clearly put a lot of thought into over-complicating this short story!

With “Lalitham Hiranmayam”, Shaji Kailas proves beyond doubt that both Suresh Gopi and he are best suited to the loud, overbearing, abusive cop dramas that they have become famous for ever since “Ekalavyan” and “Commissioner”. Suresh Gopi has a perpetual muddled expression here, perhaps reflective of the director’s state of mind. The actresses do what they can to salvage this short film on the emotional consequences of adultery, but to no avail.

“Mritynjayam” shows all signs of a forced entry into this collection, perhaps to include the “horror” genre in this ensemble. While the director Uday gets the mood right, he falters in the selection of the plot, which is not fresh at all. Fazil’s son looks a lot less effeminate here though, after his previous outing in “Kaiyyetha Doorathu”.

“Happy Journey” by Anjali Menon is – thankfully – refreshing fare. It is a commentary on how easily the average man on the street can be scared with the mere mention of a bomb. Jagathy plays his role with aplomb. Anjali Menon – take a bow!

B.Unnikrishnan helms “Aviraamam”, which is a take on the effects of the economic recession on a family. The actors – Siddhique and Shweta share a warm camaraderie – rescue the weak plot. Moral of the story – one should not expect much from the director of “Madambi“, “IG” etc.

“Off-Season” from Shyamaprasad is once again a take on the economic recession, but an unexpectedly humorous one. Right from the opening scene (a laugh-out-loud motif of a recent Oscar-winner) to the “remixed” version of an eternal classic, this short film entertains. Suraaj is his usual loud, wise-cracking self, but eminently likeable for a pleasant change.

Anwar Rasheed directs the best short film of the collection – “Bridge”. This is one of those few times where I had the experience of watching an Indian (short) film of international quality. The director is scores visually, aesthetically, and – most importantly – conceptually. It would be a pity if Anwar Rasheed goes back to directing mindless potboilers like “Rajamanickyam”, “Chotta Mumbai” etc when he clearly has the potential to do so much more.

Revathy crafts “Makal” – a story of poverty and exploitation that is a tad manipulative, but nevertheless effective. The story begins (spoilers ahead) with the close-up of a waiter @ Kerala Café (which is the common denominator across all the stories, of course), who is then revealed to be a girl set up for adoption. The director manipulates the viewer into a sense of security, before taking the breath out of you by delivering a blow to the solar plexus.

Lal Jose’s “Puram Kazhchakal” ends “Kerala Café” with a flourish – the director just lets the actors (especially Mammootty) be, and cranks up the expectation levels before delivering a wholly unexpected, heart-touching finale.

Verdict: A laudable attempt. Watch it for “Bridge”, “Makal” and “Puram Kazhchakal”.

Film Review: Anjaathey

Whenever I champion the quality of cinema being produced from the youth brigade of Tamil and Hindi cinema, I am greeted with incredulous, disbelieving, and even contempous expressions. But its true – while Tamil cinema can boast of Kaathal, Paruthiveeran, Veyyil, Kathrathu Thamizh and even Pithaamagan in the last few years, while Hindi cinema has an eclectic oeuvre in Black Friday, Bheja Fry, Maqbool, Ek Chalis Ki Last Local, Johnny Gaddar, Omkara, Mithya, and The Blue Umbrella in recent years, Malayalam cinema has little to boast of, at least from its youth brigade, if one exists (we have a grandfathers’ brigade for sure, though!) Myskin’s Anjaathey is a worthy addition to the list of Tamil films quoted above.

Take the whole opening sequence, for instance. Its just another stunt scene, really. But the director places a camera on the ground, and instead of moving the camera moving around to cover the characters, has the characters move in and around the camera. The only parallel I can think of is in Kamal Hasan’s Apoorva Sahodarangal, where a camera is placed in a trench, and we see a car stopping, and people (their feet, rather) getting out. Its slightly gimmicky, certainly, but an effective way of raising curiosity, one has to admit.

The tale is but a variant of the ages-old story of two friends, one a cop, and the other a goonda. But the whole role-reversal thing out here (you see, Narain is the goonda who later becomes the righteous cop, and Ajmal the self-righteous hero-type who later turns amoral due to a perceived failure in life) makes for a nice twist. And of course, the casting of the hitherto soft-spoken Prasanna as the scenerey-chewing serial rapist makes for a decidedly wicked turn of casting. As with all other good movies, there’s a whole bunch of other characters who could have been merely incidental in other movies, but are more than relevant to the proceedings here. Fo instance, there’s the one-handed gullible friend Kuruvi, Ajmal’s sister who has a crush on Narain (which is brought out ever-so subtly), the old flower-seller, the father of the kidnapped girl – in fact, almost too many to count – and each one of these characters is given at least one crucial scene (its almost as if the director told these actors while casting them, ‘hey, you have one scene to yourself, so make the most of it’).

What I liked here was that the director had a clear vision. He takes almost every single cliche in the book – the two-friends saga, son redeeming himself in father’s eyes, friendship, sacrifice of the friend, cops versus villains – and re-works them, until they take on a decidedly different form. Most of the time, the hero is merely incidental to the proceedings, and is forced to the sidelines while all these catastrophic events take place around him.

Performances are uniformly good. Prasanna, despite being burdened with a weird wig, underplays his character, and in a marked departure from his usual chocolate-boy roles, manages to be a menacing villain. Ajmal makes a neat debut. Narain is a little rough around the edges, but its also that kind of role – a rookie cop in a tough investigation – and he makes no glaring mistakes. However, at the end of the movie, its undoubtedly the director’s vision that makes Anjathey a treat to watch. Full marks to Myskin.

Verdict: Extremely good, falls just short of greatness.

Big B, Vinodayathra: Review

‘Big B‘ reads almost like a James Hadley Chase novel – I mean, a renegade gang of orphans set out to get their revenge against the murderer of their surrogate mom, is typically something that Chase, Lee Child or even Louis L’Amour would write. D’ebutant director Amal Neerad is obviously inspired by his mentor RGV, at least insofar as technique is concerned. However, the premise of the movie is as stale as they come.

Social worker Nafisa Ali is brutally murdered on the streets of Kochi, murkier than the Mumbai of RGV’s ‘Satya’. Four of the many street urchins she has helped nurture are determined to avenge her death. Leading them is Bilal, the Big B, a dark, brooding killer who is apt only to mumble – that too in monosyllables. The role doesn’t ask much of Mammootty, merely his best impersonation of Ajay Devgan. For while, the movie promises an interesting twist, but soon meanders off to the archetypal good vs. evil finale, where good overpowers evil, and all is well again.

As noted earlier, the basic good vs evil theme is certainly redundant, and there is nothing remarkable about the performances either (although a couple of the newcomers are endearing, and show promise). What eventually saves the movie is the fresh directorial style of Amal Neerad. From the way the shots have been framed, to the song picturizations and fights, the director leaves no stone unturned to showcase his capabilities. The dialogues are crisp – and for a change there are no Sanskrit hymns in the background, nor does the hero spout endless pages of dialogue in English, Sanskrit, Hindi etc. Things are kept simple, and in the end its a decent outing that at least doesn’t make one cringe.

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Sathyan Anthikkad, veteran film-maker, teams up with aspiring superstar Dileep to churn out yet another sample of his brand of feel-good cinema, named ‘Vinodayathra‘ (Picnic) this time. Stale theme, lacklustre direction, terrible song picturizations, music that ranges from bad to okay – this movie showcases all that is wrong with today’s Malayalam cinema.

Dileep, in yet another variation of his boy-next-door persona, is a wayward MCA graduate, who is irresponsible, irritating and exasperating all at once. One feels for his brother-in-law (a splendid Mukesh), who is forced to house Dileep. Of course, Meera Jasmine plays one of those do-gooder girls who, despite numerous setbacks (and I do mean numerous – an ailing dad, a non-wedded mother as a sister, bank loans – its quite a big list), refuses to give up. Of course, by the end of the movie, Dileep ends up spellbound by the fighting qualities of Meera, and turns over a new leaf.

The performances are alright; of course, it probably helps that each of the actors have done these roles a million times before. You can actually predict each scene, including when the songs are about to come etc. If Mukesh and Innocent manage to rise above their roles, its just because of what good actors they are. All the other technical aspects of the movie are taken care of, so that nobody can complain. One senses that Ilaiyaraja is merely going through the motions here; so is Meera, normally a highly competent actress.

Verdict: Avoid the movie unless someone gifts you a free copy (and think twice before you watch it even then). Btw, the young actress who plays Mukesh’s sister looks like she has the makings of a very competent and attractive heroine; hopefully the two Ms (and Dileep) would have retired by then.

Ek Chalis Ki Last Local: Review

At last, someone has tried to copy the spirit of Tarantino’s cinema, rather than the scenes verbatim. Sanjay Gupta could learn a lesson or three from his namesake, debutante director Sanjay Khanduri. He pays tribute to a host of movies, ranging from Tarantino’s own Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction (it even manages to do both tributes in a single shot), to Natural Born Killers, Oldboy, DDLJ, Gireftaar and even pays homage to Nana Patekar and Rajnikanth.

The story reads a bit like Chameli, about a young man stuck in the night who accosts a call-girl. But that’s where the similarities end, and the creatures of the night step out. This has got to be the wierdest (and one of the greatest) set of characters in a desi movie ever – whores, gamblers, pimps, serial killers, encounter cops – you name them and you got them here. I mean, a Nana Patekar-like autowallah, a friend resembling the protagonist of Oldboy, a trigger-happy couple roaming around in a cab akin to Natural Born Killers, the Rajni-cop persona from Gireftaar / Andha Kanoon, the mob-men in the car whose gun accidentally goes off (Pulp Fiction) and shoots off the ear of a guy (Reservoir Dogs) – great characters, and tributes galore. Yeah – this is certainly my kind of cinema. And wait, there’s a lot more, but giving away more details would destroy the movie for you.

What I didn’t like: the whole rona-dhona bit about how Neha became a call-girl ‘coz of her ailing mom, and I felt that the editing could have been a lot more crisper. Also, though it was certainly courageous of Abhay to accept this role, and he pulls it off rather well too, he still does look very effeminate in certain scenes, and he has to cut that out pronto. However, that said, he does deserve full credit for understanding and lending support to such a whacked-out screenplay.

Go watch this now, and let’s hope new filmmakers like this emerge in regional language films as well (especially in Malayalam cinema!).

A Phenomenon Called Sivaji

First things first: I am not a Rajni fan; in fact I am a self-confessed admirer of Kamal. However, that is not to say that I don’t enjoy Rajni movies – I think Padaiyappa, Annamalai, and to a lesser extent, Baasha, were some of the finest examples as to how a masala movie should be made. However, that does not mean that the superstar is not beyond criticism; I hated what they made of that Mohanlal classic Manichitrathazhu, which was very clearly a case of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. There are some fanatics out there who praise every Rajni movie out there, even if its of the same standard as any other Suryah or TR movie – I don’t conform to that POV. Rajni is the biggest star there is, and a superstar movie should look and feel like one.

The story? Seriously? You shouldn’t be reading this then, mate!

My trip to the NJ theatre was laborious, to say the least. Bogged down by traffic, we reached the theatre exactly when the interval started. Although most of the reviews seemed to suggest that I hadn’t missed much, it was still a terrible waste of money. However, I certainly wasn’t going to come all the way again just to catch the first half, so I settled down in the front row, alongside my wife who was giving me the kind of looks that suggested that I was grounded for approx 2 weeks!

The first thing that struck me was the atmosphere – there was none. Which was very strange for a Rajni movie on the third day – even in the US (I mean, this was NJ for chrissakes!). Earlier I’d promised Smitha that watching a Rajni movie in a theatre was a great experience; her countenance somehow didn’t make me believe that I’d be watching any more movies in a theatre in the near future!

The positives first: Rajni is a little less nimble on his feet, but his charisma clearly hasn’t waned. This is quite easily the best he has been presented, and its fun to have him wear some good clothes for a change. And there are not many stupid scenes here (like the bull scenes from Padaiyappa, for instance), which I, for one, was thankful for. The Athiradikalam picturization, the whole tonsured look (and I really did dig the whole Morpheus-like outfit in the finale), and the reference to MGR really worked for me. And for the record: Shreya/Shriya is the hottest thing to have hit TN after the agninathathram, she was absolutely curvealicious! The action scenes were awesome, the most stylish I have seen in a Rajni movie for sure. And the whole mimicry – voice recognition track really cracked me up.

Ok, now the brickbats: Shankar once again resorts to the corruption angle. Yeah, this time its money laundering – big difference! Doesn’t this guy have any other tales to tell? Same old dosai, different batter is all. After Jeans, Boys and Anniyan, Sivaji is certainly another directorial letdown from Shankar. And Suman has got the be the wimpiest villain ever. At the jail scene, where he pleads saying he is so sensitive and all that crap, I was in hysterics. And to think they approached AB, Mohanlal etc for this role – no wonder they turned it down. I also did not like the picturization of the Sahara song, esp those extras dressed like fairies flapping away to glory! Sivaji, without Rajni, is a huge, huge letdown from Shankar. Heck, even Anniyan, corny though it was, had a more cohesive screenplay. Rajni salvages the movie to a great extent, but not completely (at least not for a non-fan like me). Shankar needs to select his scripts with a lot more care, and avoid vigilantism like the plague.

Uttharam (The Answer)

‘Uttharam‘ was a movie that I had seen when I was in school, and yet I remember that the movie fascinated me. I’d been waiting for a chance to re-visit it, and when the opportunity occurred, I grabbed it with both hands.

On the face of it, ‘Uttharam’ is much like the very, many investigative-series movies that adorn (and litter, in many cases) Mammootty’s career. The wife of a close friend Matthew (Sukumaran) takes her own life, and upon his entreaties, Balu (Mammootty) takes it upon himself to dig deeper into the reasons for her sudden decision. And sudden it did seem, for by all accounts Selena (Suparna) lead a comfortable life, had a husband who doted on her. and was a noted poet highly regarded in all literary circles. The camera faithfully follows Balu as he goes about unraveling the mystery behind the untimely death of Selena.

The adapted screenplay by the renowned M.T.Vasudevan Nair elevates the movie to another realm altogether. ‘Uttharam’ does feature many of his pet muses, like the throwaway references to the displaced feudal patriarch (Sukumaran, in this instance), and the well-read, modern but nostalgic Mallu male (Mammootty). However, unlike some other movies scripted by MT (Midhya for instance), this does not form the central premise of the movie. Purportedly inspired by a Daphne Du Maurier short story (I haven’t been able to find out which one, but its fairly obvious if you know what you are looking for). ‘Uttharam’ has a very carefully crafted screenplay, and it does the reputation of the great writer no injustice.

**** Spoilers Ahead *****

Mammootty plays Balu straight, as a man with no roots anywhere. There are several hints as to this aspect of his personality – conversations about the frequent switching of jobs and cities, his wandering nature etc. All he really cares about is this family, really. Balu’s initial hesitancy to accept the task of prodding into Selena’s untimely demise, and his later sagaciousness in not giving up are subtly brought out by the actor. The only odd note in this performance is the scene he creates at the orphanage. Mammootty reverts to type there, and the scene sticks out like a sore thumb.

Parvathy plays the disturbed friend of Selena. Although she is introduced as a normal character, it soon becomes clear that she is a bit strange, and very much a loner. However, the reasons for this demeanor come out much later in the movie (though not as much of a surprise). The actress is strictly ok here; I felt that Parvathy could have played her character in a much more enigmatic fashion.

Suparna is hopelessly miscast as Selena. For one, her escapades in ‘Vaishali‘ are much too familiar to accept her as an intellectual of any kind. Moreover, she doesn’t look the part either. However, the screenplay wisely decides to just speak about her, rather than show a direct flashback. This is much like the technique adapted in Nelson Demille’s ‘The General’s Daughter’, and is surprisingly effective. Despite the actress, you do empathize with the character, which is a phenomenal achievement of sorts.

The biblical allusions in the movie really work, and there are quite a few in the movie. The reason for the suicide hardly strikes one as superficial, despite the central premise being flimsy – full credit to the screenplay-writer, and the director. There are a few loopholes (where would you find a schoolgirl who believes in immaculate conception in this time and age, even if she is the overtly religious daughter of a priest?), but they really are largely ignorable by the time you reach the finale of the movie. A must-watch for lovers of good cinema.