Thamaasha: No Laughing Matter

               

Thamaasha, superbly directed by Ashraf Hamza tells the tale of a bald man (Sreenivasan) and a fat woman (Chinnu) who find themselves to rest their insecurities, are cruelly reminded about them and once again gain back the ground of peace from those threatening to bully it away from them.

               

Both Sreenivasan and Chinnu are punching bag material for the bullying society around them. Yet, there exists a huge contrast in their characters. Sreenivasan, on the one hand, is in turmoil with his physical identity and nurtures an enormous inferiority complex. The director makes this clear when he falls prey to the wig sellers, hides his marks in English or when he timidly sits down as the dashing English teacher makes his way into the staff room.

               

Chinnu, on the other hand, is at peace with her identity and space in this world. She eats what she likes, is socially fluent and is secure with her fat identity. She is so at peace that even Sreeni’s call of ‘Thadichi’ has literally no effect on her. She later makes all this clear in a facebook video where the script writers choose to deliver this direct message to the audience.

               

If Sreeni’s turmoil is internal, Chinnu is dragged into this storm of body shaming and world of insecurities by outside forces of insensitivity. The film brilliantly depicts this face of insensitive society through the students that laugh at calls of ‘Motta’ and through Safiya (played by Grace Antony) and her hair fixing company that preys on the insecurities of the other to reap profit.

                

The director contrasts this beautifully with the sensitivities of the protagonists that know the pain of body shaming and chooses their words carefully. Chinnu’s reference of the ‘hair cap’ rather than the wig and Sreeni profusely apologizing for calling Chinnu a ‘Thadichi’ reveal how the twin protagonists develop deep sensitivities on the basis of their own experience.

                

The most brutal face of a callous society reveal before us in the film through the faceless body shamers in social media. Although a minority section of our society, it does painfully reveal to us that many do find joy in vile abuses targeting another’s appearance. The movie here artfully conveys the message that ‘what may be comedy for you may be hurtful for the receiver’ and this is where ‘thamaasha’ becomes ‘emotional violence’. It poignantly depicts the victims of such abuses (through Sreeni and Chinnu), their terrible mental state and inability to enjoy the smallest pleasures in life, of friendships, travels and food that they are entitled to, just like any other human being.

                

The movie through Sreenivasan lays out the common syndrome of ‘what the other thinks’. We see it in several instances, where he disowns his wig, acts like he is talking to his student in the bakery and tries to cover up his English mark. Rahim’s character (played brilliantly by Nawaz Vallikunnu) comes as an antithesis to Sreenivasan when he advices him to live without heeding to the cribs and questions of the other in society and to live for himself.

               

It is Chinnu however that takes Sreenivasan into her wings and makes him soar above the inferiority complex and insecurities he has nurtured for so long. It is through her as a living example that Sreenivasan understands the futility of appearances and related insecurities so much so that he himself says that ‘there is nothing worthwhile in one’s hair’.  When Sreenivasan makes the same picture that caused much shame and anxiety his display photo in the den of the cyber bullies, we witness a tale of transformation to a place where he is at peace with his bald identity and friendship with a fat woman.

               

Thamaasha not only depicts body shaming and bullying but also inspires the courage in victims to call out and fight body shaming whether in the real or the virtual space. It espouses a politics of fraternity, solidarity and humanism that must be embraced for these fringe vile voices to be submerged. We see this collective spirit of resistance embodied by Sreenivasan, his brother Kamal, Chinnu and the many students and teachers in Sreenivasan’s college. This must be the inspiring spirit that we as a society take home from the theatres once the end credits roll.

Vinay Forrt transforms into Sreenivasan with every muscle with even the littlest of his hairs doing the acting. Chinnu Chandni is a delight in essaying the role of her namesake. Rex Vijayan’s back ground score and music seems to be in an inseparable marriage with the movie, with the track ‘Padi Njan’ as beautiful as the birds that fly into the sky from the waters of Nila.

Ashraf Hamza tells a tale of our times, at times subtly and at times loudly that calls into question the mentality of a society that mistakes shame and abuse for fun and laughter. The time is now that we sit up, take notice and course correct from this path of emotional violence to live and let live.

Uyare: A Tale of 2 flights

‘Uyare’ written by Bobby-Sanjay and directed by Manu Asokan is a story of survival of a young woman felled to her knees and literally scarred and bruised by her toxic companion. Parvathy essaying the role of Pallavi achingly portrays the protagonist often the burnt half of her face revealing more than a thousand words of pain, suffering and sorrow.

But ‘Uyare’ is not a sympathetic story of an acid attack victim, it is a story of euphoria at the end for her and for many women sharing the pain of male chauvinistic violence. The movie artfully lays out the various layers of patriarchy that is constructed around Pallavi caging her flight, enforcing stereotypes and wreaking havoc in her life.

At the heart of this depiction is a gender insensitive criminal justice system that continues to be a norm in our country. A scene where the judge asks Pallavi of her view on the offer of Govind to share her life with the very one who threw acid on her face is very revealing in this aspect. A male dominated courtroom that cares scant about a bruised and violated woman’s emotions is poignantly depicted. Pallavi’s heartfelt lament of her perpetrator being out on bail for years while she remains scarred for life is an echo of many a violated woman’s pains of a terribly slow judicial process.

It is in Vishal’s interactions with Pallavi that the movie subtly throws light on the several gender stereotypes that play around us. In a scene where Vishal mistakenly enters the washroom meant for women, Pallavi hilariously lays out the male constructed stereotype that women gossip while men recite enlightened phrases. Similarly, when Pallavi (now an acid attack victim) draws an awed reaction from Vishal when she asks for a job as an air hostess, it brings out the requirements of beauty and attractiveness that are stereotyped into the role of air hostess for women.

The most striking face of patriarchy in Uyare undoubtedly belongs to Pallavi’s toxic controlling companion Govind. It unabashedly opens the viewer’s eyes to the danger of toxic relationships where one sided victims remain reluctant to let go despite the humiliation, sorrow and misery it brings to them.

Pallavi too mistakes Govind’s control on what she wears, who she talks to, the length of her hair and her bed time as love as many women do in our society. Govind is the epitome of men in relationships that see their other half as their property- to be used, controlled and caged within their ambit of decision making.

Yet, for Govind, he loves her like nobody can, a kind of selfish and possessive love that leaves even the other half in the dark. Govind is further a representative of the deviant youth in our society that is a product of poor parenting which his own father later owns up to. This makes Govind, one of the greyest and most complex characters to perform. Asif Ali has taken up this challenge and delivered a career best performance that delves beautifully into the enigma of the person Govind is with an extremely layered performance

With the toxic levels in their relationship rising, Pallavi in the worst moment of their relationship finds voice and strength enough to sever Govind from her life and bravely tells it to his face. This is a moment of ‘enough is enough’ and is a scene amazingly performed by both actors.

The worst shades of patriarchy reveal when Govind throws open a bottle of acid to Pallavi’s face the next morning. It depicts male violence when a woman exercises her agency on her own life. As Pallavi falls apart from her scooter her face burning, Govind walks away maybe pocketing a satisfaction of revenge for rejection that only such deviant patriarchal minds would understand.

Pallavi opens up to a life with half a face burnt and disfigured that shakes her and pains her to the hilt. She is so scarred and bruised by her past toxic relationship with Govind that it is no surprise she turns down Vishal’s proposal for a relationship opting for a friendship that is much needed for her aching mind. It clearly depicts the difficulties women as victims of male violence have in trusting their relationships with men in future.

Vishal ushers into Pallavi’s life as an angel that in one way fulfils her greatest wish of being up in the sky. By casting an acid attack victim in role of an air hostess, Vishal aims at breaking a land mark gendered stereotype of how beauty is to be defined with regard to women. The writers of the movie here throw up a revolutionary idea of redefining beauty given where we are at this time of modern civilization with Vishal being the tool of that communique. The fact that the only woman in his company’s boardroom vociferously opposes his decision enlightens us that patriarchy ironically has no gender as we have so often come across in life.

It is in this context that Uyare becomes a tale of two flights from rock bottom, not just for Pallavi but also for Vishal. Forever under the shadow of his father, ridiculed and dominated without exercising his own agency, Vishal flies free and strong with his strong decision making in two instances- taking Pallavi in as an air hostess and trusting her when no one else did as the captain in the cockpit of a turbulent flight. In both instances, he comes out with flying colours garnering greater self-respect and confidence in himself through Pallavi. In hindsight, Vishal needed Pallavi as much as she needed him for inspiration and for goodness that prompts action with conviction transcending self-doubt.

It is Pallavi’s flight from emptiness and horror that is the central theme of the movie, of how she reconciles with reality and her forever disfigured face and how she refuses to cave herself inside the four walls of her home despite it being the natural tendency for an acid attack victim. At one point, Pallavi is so at peace with herself that she delightedly takes a selfie caring scant about her burnt face.

Pallavi’s journey from a hospital bed to the cockpit of a turbulent flight epitomises the fighting spirit that victims of such disaster arm themselves with at most times by virtue of the situation. She has just about enough to keep living, breathing and moving, one step at a time painstakingly, handheld by her father and close friend who becomes her trusted caring companions. From the doldrums of her eager flying wings clipped of by the acid burns and of babies crying on seeing her face, she rises up each time more determined and resolute than before.

It is indeed ironic that Pallavi’s flight upward reaches its peak and crescendo when she lands a plane caught in turbulent winds against all odds. Pallavi’s conviction in her abilities and subsequent success sores her self-respect to never before seen heights. We see her content and gratified for having flown at least once fulfilling her deepest desire as a child and young woman so much so that she is least perturbed when her father calls up to remind her it is verdict day in her case.

Pallavi’s father is the engine that drives her upward, a remarkable anti-thesis of the controlling fathers that we see so often in our daily society. She gives her the freedom to fly and to love and trusts her in her agency, never for once cursing her decisions. Even in the worst hour, he is able to control emotion by reason and apply his mind to the hard questions of life that stare before them. But, like any other father, he too loses the plot when Govind once again rakes hell in Pallavi’s life. A special mention cannot be forgone for Siddique who essays this character, once again reminding us what a terrific actor he really is with a nuanced and subtle performance.

Uyare is a crisp tale of survival that unabashedly opens the viewer’s eyes into the life of an acid attack survivor who has no choice but to wear her bruise on her face forever. As much as it is a tale of toxicity, it is also a tale of goodness, optimism and hope that eventually prevail thanks to the many angel like figures that circle around us.

Parvathy brings Pallavi to life like only she can and underlines herself as one of the best performers in Malayalam cinema in the top most bracket of actors perhaps with only Fahadh Fassil and Soubin Shahir for company. In many ways, there is a symbolism in her depicting Pallavi, survivors in different realms albeit from the common devil of patriarchy that aims to choke women of their livelihoods and freedoms. Here’s wishing conversations on gender jump started by movies such as this stir the nest of patriarchy enabling women to fly out of it sooner rather than later.