[ad_1]
There are debates about how a film’s content should outweigh the film’s craft. But is it possible? Don’t the misfires in the craft distract you from watching what is unfolding on the screen? Yes, the underlying message of a film could be important, and speak of a rather pertinent malaise of the society. But, what if the filmmakers do a rather shoddy job presenting it on screen? Now, where should our allegiance lie? With the intent and intensity of the filmmaker or the onscreen execution of their thoughts? Our answers to these questions would determine our response to Sasikumar’s latest film, Nandhan, which reunites him with his Udanpirappe director Era Saravanan.
Nandhan opens with a discussion surrounding the selection of the next trustee of the local temple. It is a conversation between the ‘upper caste’ people, and when a fiery young Dalit guy throws his hat into the ring, it is met with extreme derision. Some ask him to get out immediately, some threaten him with extreme violence, and one of the more seemingly level-headed men (Balaji Sakthivel) coerces him to leave, promising a bigger say in the next round of elections.
ALSO READ: Hiphop Tamizha Adhi on ‘Kadaisi Ulaga Por’: ‘I write high moments for the film, not for the actors’
But then, we are soon told that it is just a ploy to ensure this guy doesn’t file a case under the PCR act. This is not a film that aims to be subtle. Soon enough, this youngster, the only educated Dalit man from the village of Vanangaankudi, is murdered. His name is Nandhan. The film is then about the oppressed community undergoing a series of humiliations, oppression, trauma, physical abuse, mental harassment, and systemic abuse to understand the importance of each of them turning into a Nandhan.
The film is told through the eyes of Balaji Sakthivel’s trusted aide/slave Koozhpaanai (Sasikumar), who believes his boss is the epitome of justice. Even when his brother Nandhan is dead, Koozhpaanai is made to serve his boss’ father (GM Kumar) who is an invalid with an acerbic and casteist tongue. In a twist of fate, his panchayat is turned into a reserved constituency, and Koozhpaanai is made the panchayat president. However, soon after, Koozhpaanai is shown his place multiple times by Balaji Sakthivel and his cohorts. These scenes, although cramped, serve as a stark reminder of the reality of many.
Time and again, Koozhpaanai and his community, except his wife (Suruthi), are shown as people with no sense of agency. They are forced to accept their plight, and except for a stray voice popping up during extreme duress, none of them even discuss their condition among themselves. There is a level of servitude that comes from a place of ignorance, and it is disappointing that Saravanan decides to hammer in this aspect of their oppression. It is almost like the members of the community are resigned to their fate without a sense of rebellion.
Of course, it can be argued that there is simmering resentment in their minds that doesn’t get translated into action. But that is where the filmmaking draws a blank because these arguments are made inside our heads to defend the film’s intentions, and not because the film alludes to these reactions. And it isn’t like Nandhan is an abstract film that doesn’t spoonfeed us anything. It is quite the opposite because every scene, every dialogue, every happening in the narrative is so pronounced and loud.
Here’s the trailer:
Now, there is no doubt that the importance of the oppressed taking on the political route to find true justice for their community is a story that needs to be told. But is Saravanan’s way of telling this story good enough? There is no seamless coherence between the scenes, and it moves along like watching an amateurish stage play where the actors respond on cues, there is no sense of days progressing, and the transitions are amusing at best. Even the profundity feels out of place and forced in a film that believes the intention needs to be drilled into the audience. All the characters are extremely one-note, and it is disappointing that there is hardly a sense of nuance to anything that unfolds on screen.
It is a pity because when Saravanan gets these things right, the film is quite gripping. Take, for instance, the scene when we know Koozhpaanai’s real name. The way it is built up, the tension, the sentiment, the pay-off, everything is on point. The same can be said of the scene when he prepares to hoist the National flag during the Independence Day function. These moments are so beautiful, and sadly, Saravanan decided to use it so sparingly. Similarly, there are a lot of witty one-liners that drum in the message much better than the long-drawn scenes that make the 110-minute feel much longer. While the songs by Ghibran act as melodious detours, the coercive background score is problematic even if it fits the overall style of the film.
Also, it is disappointing that the brownfacing of South Indian actors playing South Indian characters has become so normalised. If the makers believe the complexion of their actors is too ‘fair’ to play a rural oppressed person and decide to apply loads of makeup to make them look a few shades darker, then it is a huge problem. Even if you believe the actor’s performance should shine through such caked makeup, the lack of consistency in this makeup would be a problem.
Making the naturally dusky people look duskier is a mentality issue, and it needs to be addressed soon enough before we are pulled into the baseless and reductive argument that people from a certain community should only look a certain way. This distraction takes away from Sasikumar’s performance in a rather new role for him. It is not often that we see him as a submissive person who is slapped around, and paraded naked in front of a crowd. The same holds true for Suruthi, who is burdened by a template role that offers nothing new, even when she is the moral compass of the film. If there is any actor that walks off with the plaudits, it is Balaji Sakthivel whose unhinged portrayal of an evil entity is unsettling and deeply effective.
Now, the last act of Nandhan is carefully placed to elicit a particular response. Unlike the previous 100-odd minutes, the last 10 minutes take up the documentary approach, and it leaves a strong impact, for sure. But what it also does is make you think if Nandhan was better suited as a documentary because, as a film, it is exploitative and reductive even if it wasn’t the intention. It paints the oppressed as a group of people waiting for a saviour to rise from within, even though the last showreel explores the collective strength that comes from overwhelming adversity. It is just disappointing that the noble intentions never come through in a film that had the potential but settled for less.
[ad_2]
Source link
