Karthik (Madhavan) and Shakthi (Shalini), two people from diverse backgrounds catch a glimpse of each other. Everything about them is different. His hair is all ruffled, hers falls down like a cascade, refusing to be tied down. Soon though they’re in love, and it is time for the parents to meet.
While the train and station are also a home of sorts for her, and walking up and down the stairs, her routine, both are a passing fancy for him. He’s the boy on a bike, with music in his ears from a headphone. He comes from a family that seems attached, but there’s a certain space. His lawyer father has a certain disdain about him, a sneering attitude. She’s from a family where parents and daughters play cards together. Her father has an inherent dignity about him, and also the ability to spot a snide remark from afar.
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The lawyer can’t help but talk with an arrogance bestowed by privilege. And so, when the parents meet, there’s a powder keg waiting to be lit. How it explodes! Ironically, Shakthi’s mother, quiet till then, is the one who stands up to indicate the meeting is over, and speaks of self-respect.
Keep all the breeziness of Alaipayuthey and its cutesy dialogues on one side of the scale, and the one line, “Sir, eppa Sir varudhu ungalukku indha oru garvam…” on the other, and you’ll end up with a perfect balance. For, as much as Mani Ratnam’sAlaipayuthey, which celebrates 20 years today, was about the flush of a sudden inexplicable love, the raptures it leaves a couple in, and the attendant heartache, it was also a great study in class differences.
Co-written by Mani Ratnam and R Selvaraj, many of the dialogues have remained popular, despite life changing unrecognisably from when the film was made.
In all the love for its love story, not much has been written about the integrity with which the film approaches Shakthi’s background and lifestyle. From the overcrowded dining table and the upma that’s a breakfast staple in Shakthi’s house to her mother who tucks up a portion of her sari, the stainless steel water filter, the plastic koodai that holds vegetables, and the put-together cloth that doubles up as a curtain, this was a living, breathing house in a railway colony.
Where, the father can throw his daughter’s belongings down, but the one helping her to the auto will be the friendly neighbourhood store owner, and where children of the colony chase the auto taking their Shakthi akka away. In the same breath, it paints Karthik’s home with a lushness befitting his father’s background, and a certain aloofness too. The curtains are just so, the walls are pastels, artefacts dot the house, and the dining table is just that, not a holder of objects. His mother can hardly raise her voice; when she does, she’s shown her place. In many ways, Shakthi’s mother is the more empowered one.
Shakthi’s father has raised her like a princess, despite their middle-class existence. The rich lawyer has raised Karthik to be middle-class, he insists. One has immense faith in his daughter, reason why he can’t handle her secret marriage; the other has little hope from the son — he uses cynicism to mask his hurt.
When the worlds of the individuals, Karthik and Shakthi, mingle and collide, it is divine justice that their new life together begins in a run-down, yet-to-be finished house. She happily settles into her routine there. Karthik is still playing house in his new home; it’s a far cry from the life he’s used to. Two things in that un-finished house speak of his background — the multi-colour mirror and the chatai on one of the windows! The rest is as raw and new as Karthik and Shakthi.
As the two learn to adjust and live with each other, the class differences seem to blur, but it takes an accident for the young couple to really know what they mean to each other. And possibly, if the film did not conclude with that shot in the hospital, we might have seen the unfinished house truly become a home and a union of people from different classes, held together by just love.
A few Tamil movies feature butlers as prominent characters. What are people’s memories and thoughts of these characters? What is the connection between what people remember and what was portrayed? This essay will take a deep dive…
“We are not talking about the patnam butlers (butlers of Madras city) but the pannai parayars (parayars of farms),” Bharatiyar says. In the year 1917, at the end of a Justice Party meeting, in which TM Nair spoke, a few brahmins were assaulted. Some complained that these attacks were made by some ‘parayars’. It is while condemning this instance that Bharathiyar wrote these lines.
Here he uses two phrases – patnam butlers and parayars of the farms. He uses these phrases while making the point that the parayars of the farms are being “used” by the Justice Party (which speaks the anti-brahmin rhetoric), and in order to prevent this from happening, they (parayars) must be embraced.
Though both phrases denote people belonging to the same section of society, he says they are of two types. And refers to those working as butlers among them, in negative terms. When he shows sympathy towards pannai parayars, he excludes the butlers of patnam.
This ‘butler’ is a colonial legacy. Those who cooked mainly, but also carried out other manual labour in the homes, palaces and the offices of Europeans were called butlers. It was the marginalised who mostly worked here. Those who belonged to parayar groups in large numbers, and a few others from other castes, worked as butlers.
Denied even entry into the streets where upper castes lived, these marginalised people found the opportunity to not just enter the homes of Europeans who did not practice caste but to even cook in their kitchens. The upper castes who found many opportunities thanks to the European colonisers, wouldn’t touch beef, while the marginalised who cooked beef, among other things, worked for them.
Thanks to this livelihood opportunity, butler Dalits were better off than other Dalits. Their clothes, food, and language too were influenced by Europeans. Since they were in close proximity to the British, they were able to bring things to the British’s notice soon and benefit from it. Unlike other Dalits they were not dependent on locals and were able to lead their lives independently. This also allowed them to advocate social justice. These were not people who lived on the mercy of upper castes and didn’t give the upper castes the feeling that they were their saviours. Their connections with the powerful and their ‘new money’ status were the reasons for this. The locals resented them. That even Bharathi was not free from this sentiment is clear from this example.
Iyothee Thass was a pioneering Tamil Dalit who advocated a Buddhist identity instead of Hindu identity. His father and grandfather were butlers. His grandfather Kandappan, worked in the English household of George Harrington in Ooty. (That it was his grandfather who gave the manuscripts of Kural and Naladi to Ellis, a British civil servant is well-known now.) This connection to the butler way of life played a big role in Iyothee Thass’ own life.
There are several reasons for the negative associations our society makes about butlers. Two are most important among these. Firstly, most of them come from the oppressed sections of society. That they managed to obtain benefits from the British while working for them would have irked the locals. Secondly, the clash between their newfound wealth and this new way of life, and the local way of life. ‘This new way of living has made them show-offs,’ the others thought.
When one is freed from tradition and embraces modernity, the old order opposes modernity in this way. We can say that the society at large, made its peace with this disconformity by making fun of the ‘menaminikiththanam’ or this ‘flashy strutting’ of Dalits.
Even though these negative ideas around butlers came into existence during the time of the British, they continued even after they packed up and left. Even now, we call someone’s broken English ‘Butler English’.
Kakaye_and_Manthara
In stories, domestic workers have usually been depicted as liars, snitches, as greedy or as thieves. (In Ramayana, a worker, Kooni’s cunning is the beginning of trouble.) They have been shown as people who must be laughed at. Even in cinema, they are portrayed in poor light and Tamil cinema’s depiction of butlers has been in keeping with this ‘tradition’. In some manner or another, butlers have been shown as people who must be mocked. Recurring characteristics of butlers include references to new money, greed, wrong pronunciation (Butler English), boastfulness, etc. Films with butlers have usually been set in estates.
The British set up these estates in Ooty and Kodaikanal for their summers, where bungalows and tea estates cropped up. In the upkeep of these towns and their homes and gardens, they needed workers. It was the oppressed who mostly worked here as well.
It is from among them that butlers came to be. For a few months of the year, even official business was conducted from these estates. Butlers would come with the officers and stay here during those months. These hill stations played a big role in the political aspirations of the marginalised as well. That the political origins of both Rettamalai Srinivasan and Iyothee Thass happened in Ooty is imperative to note.
It is as a reflection of this that movies with butlers were set in hill stations. As in real life, where they performed the role of cooks, security guards, drivers and caretakers of estates during and between summers, even in movies, they were shown donning multiple hats – as cooks, servers, drivers, etc. But when it came to showcasing their characteristics, the films showed us what society caricatured butlers to be.
Let’s take three movie depictions of butlers. Anbe Vaa (1966). Vasantha Maaligai (1972). Idhayakkani (1975). All three are set in hill stations, in estates and there’s a master, servant angle. None of the three butler tracks have anything to do with the main plot of the film. They are mostly humourous roles. The humour is derived from the butlers’ clothes, their mannerisms, the way they talk, etc.
Vasantha Maligai
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Vasantha Maligai is set in Azhagapuri, a hill estate. There are three butlers. VK Ramasamy’s character, one of them, is Pakkiri. He’s a show-off. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s blowing his own trumpet: ‘I was born in India. Brought up in England. Foreign return’. He speaks wrong English and is introduced to the palace’s heir in this manner.
The heir (Sivaji Ganesan) considers this butler’s pride and English as being in discordance with reality. ‘Un peche seri illaye’ (The way you talk is all wrong) he says. He then asks, ‘do you know what you have to do, if you want to be here?’ To which Pakkiri says, ‘must keep my mouth shut’. In this instance of butlers’ depiction, we see them as garrulous people who speak bad English and are boastful. These are considered discordant traits that have to be reigned in. All this may be considered a reflection of the society’s opinion of butlers, in the aftermath of their new moneyed status.
Along with Butler Pakkiri, there’s Panju (Nagesh) and Muthamma (Rama Prabha), two other domestic staff. Panju and Pakkiri fight over Muthamma. She’s shown as someone who can be won over with the promise of good food. They are shown as greedy, drunks, who change sides for their self-serving reasons and as those who will go along with those who do ill. These appear as elements of comedy in the film.
We must also speak about Sethupathi IPS (1994) here. In this film, the hero is an IPS officer, his grandfather a retired army man and his sister, a judge. So this family’s lifestyle is like the white families of the colonial era. There are three cooks in this house, two men and one woman. The three of them are the film’s comic relief. We can see reflections of the three butler characters from Vasantha Maaligai in this movie. Supplying liquor to the boss without the household knowing about it, greed, blowing their own trumpet, these are all things they do. This points to the fact that the way to make fun of butlers almost also acquired a formula in Tamil cinema.
Idhayakkani
In Idhayakkani there’s a character who works in the estate owner’s (MGR) home. As usual, he’s a humourous show-off. His nickname is Isari (played by Isari Velan). Because he doesn’t pronounce English words the right way, and because he mixes it with Tamil, he’s called this. Does not do the work assigned to him at the right time; takes credit for others’ work as his.
Anbe Vaa
Anbe Vaa is the pinnacle of this kind of representation. A Tamil man has a European styled bungalow in Shimla. Since the owner lives in TN, an old man named Krishnayya is taking care of the house. His aged wife, young daughter, and brother-in-law Ramayya stay with him.
In the first scene, a family descends on the bungalow. The heroine played by Saroja Devi asks him to help her ‘Mummy’ get down from the car. Krishnayya does not understand English and thinks it’s Ammi (grindstone). When the owner isn’t around, the butler’s family acts like the owners and makes money behind his back by renting out his home. These people and their actions make up the comedy portions of Anbe Vaa.
Darling Darling Darling
Though butlers made small appearances here and there in Tamil cinema, K Bhagyaraj’s Darling Darling Darling (1982) was the first time, a full-length film was set in this backdrop.
Ramayya’s scenes and story from Anbe Vaa turned into a full-length film here. However, this is not a butler story or an estate story. On the contrary, this is a love story. It has the butlers and other workers of the class as its characters. No other film takes such a deep dive into this world. In Tamil cinema, in particular, this is the first time, the son of a butler-like worker, is a hero.
A rich man with a bungalow in Ooty lives abroad with his daughter. They come once in six months for a few days and go back. So Singaram, a worker, stays there permanently and takes care of the bungalow. He’s the watchman; he’s the cook. He has a son and a daughter. Daughter earns a small income taking tourists on horse rides. Son Raja drives the car when the owner is around. He’s the hero of the film.
The owner’s daughter, Radha (Poornima Bhagyaraj), studies in the same school as Raja in their childhood. Raja likes her as a kid and thinks that if she were to come back, she’d still be as affectionate. She grows up and does return to the bungalow to stay there. However, she thinks what happened in childhood is childish and doesn’t show any special interest in him. She is herself around him.
This conflict makes the story interesting. And sets the stage for later scenes where she understands his innocent love. In the end, she concludes that Raja is more loving than her rich suitor. There’s no villain here. Both her own rich father and the suitor’s father decide that Raja’s love is purer and pave way for the relationship.
There is no denying that this story showed those who’d been ridiculed until then in Tamil cinema in new respectful light. This draws from the broad understanding of modern politics that standing up for the welfare of the workers, the poor, as opposed to that of the rich is the just thing to do. If they’re poor, they’re likely to be good people, is the belief here.
It is also true that instead of challenging commonly held beliefs about butlers, this film also portrays them in the manner they’ve been done before, throughout the course of the movie, and then in the end shows them in good light. The bungalow watchman (the hero’s father) is a show-off here too. Since the homeowner isn’t around, he wears his master’s clothes, shoes, even uses his smoking pipe and walks around as if he’s the owner. He too speaks wrong English. He’s greedy. When he realises that his son is in love with his employer’s daughter, he thinks that this is the easy way to come up in life. His son and his daughter, also speak butler English.
Actors who’re known only for their comedic roles play the butler roles in these movies usually. Here, Kallapetti Singaram acts as the butler. Movies like Jallikattu and Sethupathi IPS also have comedians playing butlers (Janagaraj and Goundamani). Even the hero Bhagyaraj’s character too, in the name of innocence, does only humorous things. This movie played a huge role in bringing Bhagayaraj that trademark innocent image. The butler background seems to have been picked for this reason. The hero’s tomfoolery is passed off as his innocent love, and the story suggests that the heroine is the foolish one to have not understood this.
For the audience to feel sympathy for the hero, the rich suitor is shown as a man of vices. By having the hero polish this man’s shoes and clean up his vomit, the screenplay makes the heroine feel sympathy towards him. In Darling Darling Darling the story and life of a butler serves as a mere backdrop for a love story, but never goes further.
This does not mean that all these movies have been made with the explicit motive of portraying butlers in a negative manner. Those who made these films may have not even known butlers’ caste backdrop and written the roles in this manner. They aren’t written as villains either. In some films, they are shown as people with self-respect as well; those who do not embrace the wrong path despite the opportunities.
However, one cannot entirely dismiss the caste angle to the portrayals of butlers in our cinema. In these movies that mock them, the caste system’s discrimination wears a different cloak and appears in a different form to show some people as higher and others as low. Caste does not operate only when it’s well-planned or in a direct manner. Caste has become a part of our life and so it can become apparent without someone even noticing that he’s being casteist. The historical reasons for the identity of a butler becoming a demeaning thing may have been forgotten over time and it may instead be considered a thing to be ridiculed or something humorous. That this ridicule was born from a caste-gaze and continues to stay like that is what we must pay attention to.
Stalin Rajangam is a Tamil scholar writing on Dalit history. He has written several books on politics, cinema and, literature. The article has been translated by Krupa Ge from an essay titled Butlergalai Parikasitha Cinemakkal
Indian Badminton player Gutta Jwala Gutta has turned movie publicity wizard, adding to all her other skills . The 14-time National Champion who is currently dating actor Vishnu Vishal is reportedly the brains behind the first-look poster of Vishnu’s next film Mohandas that dropped on Sunday morning. The film helmed by Kalavu fame Murali Karthick, will reportedly see Vishnu Vishal essay a grey-shaded character.
The title announcement teaser of the film dropped on Saturday evening revealing that the film has been titled Mohandas.
This digital poster was not planned.This photo was casually clicked by @Guttajwala on her phone and we tried to do something creative during the lockdown and use this as a digital poster.Sharing the actual pic unedited☺ pic.twitter.com/Y1wscFYRg8
The duo had reportedly clicked the photo candidly and worked on it, and released it as the first-look poster of the film. The poster featured a blood-stained bare-chested Vishnu Vishal and backdrop that also had a Ronaldo poster, Don Vito Corleone’s (Marlon Brando) famous quote from Godfather and a glimpse of a Playboy magazine.
Feels great to read all your comments for the title announcement teaser of #Mohandas🙂 loved your enthusiasm and decoding skills too..
Vignesh Rajagopalan is handling cinematography, Sundaramurthy KS is composing music, Kripakaran Purushothaman is on the edit and Poorthi Pravin on costumes. The rest of the cast and crew are yet to be announced.
Watch the title announcement teaser of Mohandas here.
The title announcement teaser of actor Vishnu Vishal‘s next is out now. The film has been titled MohanDas and is being helmed by Kalavu fame Murali Karthick. The film is being bankrolled by the actor himself under his Vishnu Vishal Studioz banner. This is the 6th production of VV Studioz after Velainnu Vanthutta Vellakaran, Kathanayagan, Silukkuvarpatti Singam, an untitled project, andFIR.
Vishnu is seen hammering something, a human being, possibly, with blood splattering all over his t-shirt and hands. He then walks up to a room, removes his t-shirt and smears the blood on his hands all over his ripped chest. We then find him dropping the t-shirt into his washing machine and sitting outside it anxiously.
The trailer begins with Mahatma Gandhi’s quote “The future depends on what you do today” and ends with his name, the title, Mohandas. There’s also a line that says that it might be a true story. We’ll have to wait to see why they chose the name of the man who preached ahimsa and his famous ‘three monkeys’ for this teaser…
Vishnu Vishal took to Twitter to release the teaser.
On Thursday, the actor had put out a poll asking if he should release the poster on Saturday. He also added that the shooting of the film was to begin today, but has been indefinitely postponed owing to the pandemic. After he received a positive response, he decided to reveal the title on April 11.
Hi
Wanted to start my next movie on April 11th, but life had different plans
I still want to be positive n share the details on the same date, but only with your approval
We tried something different n have made a ‘Title Announcement Teaser’, but your decision will b final 😊
— VISHNU VISHAL – VV (@TheVishnuVishal) April 9, 2020
The thriller film will have Vignesh Rajagopalan handling cinematography, Sundaramurthy KS composing music, Kripakaran Purushothaman on the edit and Poorthi Pravin on costumes.
Meanwhile, Vishnu Vishal who was last seen in Silukkuvarpatti Singam, will next be seen in Manu Anand‘s FIR and Prabhu Solomon‘s Kaadan. While the former hasn’t completed production yet, the latter was set for release on April 2nd, 2020 which has now been postponed.
The FIR team had recently recorded a song titled ‘Payanam’ rendered by Abhay Jodhpurkar. The actor also announced that VV Studioz has stalled all post-production and promotional activity for their films and requested people to practice social distancing.
Be safe guys.Practice social distancing as much as you can.All operations of @VVStudioz office and #FIR movie have been limited .#HealthFirst The best we can do is follow protocols that wil keep us and our family members and people around us healthy🤗 pic.twitter.com/UwhTStbpbE
On Friday, April 10, actor Akshay Kumar donated a sum of 3 crores to the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) for the production of Personal Protective Equipment (PPE), masks, rapid testing kits and more, owing to the spike in the number of patients who tested positive for COVID19. The actor had earlier donated 25 crores to the Prime Minister Cares Fund after Narendra Modi put out a tweet asking for funds to help the people of the nation.
“All we need is a united stand. Aur phir #MuskurayegaIndia! Flag of India. Do share with your family and friends,” wrote Akshay. The initiative by Jackky’s Jjust Music and Akshay’s Cape of Good Films had Vishal Mishra singing and composing with Kaushal Kishore penning the lyrics.
The actor had also recently thanked all government officials and frontliners who are toiling tirelessly for people by holding out a placard that read “#DilSeThankYou” and posting a picture of it. He said that it was the least we could do for them. He also thanked director Rajkumar Hirani for being an integral part of the initiative.
Name : Akshay Kumar
City : Mumbai
Mere aur mere parivaar ki taraf se…
Police, Nagar Nigam ke workers, doctors, nurses, NGOs, volunteers, government officials, vendors, building ke guards ko #DilSeThankYou 🙏🏻 pic.twitter.com/N8dnb4Na63
On Friday, the actor announced that he would be hosting a virtual concert series called ‘Sangeet Setu’ for a span of three days, from 10 April to 12 April for one hour between 8 pm and 9 pm. Performed by Indian artists, the series aims to support the PM Cares Fund against Coronavirus by asking viewers to contribute. It’s an initiative by the Indian Singers Rights Association (ISRA), Moving Pixels Company (MPC), XP&D and Be.live.
The series went live for free on Friday across DD National, AajTak, all Over The Top (OTT) platforms, Direct-To-Home (DTH) services and on YouTube. It garnered over 14k views.
Actor-director-choreographer Raghava Lawrence announced on Thursday evening that he would feature in director P Vasu‘s Chandramukhi 2, the sequel to the 2005 hit horror-drama Chandramukhi. The film will be bankrolled by Kalanithi Maran’s Sun Pictures, reportedly.
The actor added that he had taken permission and sought the blessings of Superstar Rajinikanth who had featured in the lead role in the first installment. Chandramukhi was the Tamil remake of the 1993 Malayalam classic Manichitrathazhu, starring Shobana and Mohanlal. The Tamil version featured Jyotika in the titular role.
The Kanchana star also added that he will be contributing INR 3 crores towards Covid19 relief funds from the advance received from the film. He will be giving Rs. 50 lakhs to the Prime Minister Care Fund, 50 Lakhs to the Chief Minister Relief Fund of Tamil Nadu, and 50 lakhs towards the Film Employees’ Federation of South India (FEFSI).
He also pledged 50 lakhs towards Dancer’s Union, 25 lakhs for boys with disabilities in an orphanage, and 75 lakhs for daily wagers and the people from his birthplace Desiya Nagar, Royapuram. He will be delivering food and essentials to the needy with the help of the police in a safe manner.
Kalanithi Maran’s Sun Network has contributed INR 10 crores towards Corona Relief. The news came on Thursday afternoon from a tweet by the company.
Sun TV Group is donating Rs.10 Crores towards Corona Covid 19 relief measures.
சன் டி.வி. குழுமம் கொரோனா நிவாரணப் பணிகளுக்கு ரூ. 10 கோடி வழங்குகிறது.#COVID19#CoronaUpdate
Raghava Lawrence who was last seen in his directorial Kanchana 3 (Muni 4) was working on Laxmmi Bomb, the Hindi remake of his 2011 hit horror-drama Kanchana starring Akshay Kumar in the lead, before lockdown. Kanchana has already been dubbed in Telugu and remade in Kannada, Sinhala, and Bengali.
Laxmmi Bomb will hit screens this year.
From Lakshmi bomb song shoot, I’m happy and proud to be working with the most hardworking , time punctual and down to earth Akshay Kumar sir and beyond all that a good human being. pic.twitter.com/LQMkmR00RW
Director Atlee is the latest from the Indian film fraternity to donate towards Coronavirus Relief Funds. The director has chipped in a total of 10 lakhs, 5 lakhs for the Tamil Nadu Film Director’s Association and 5 lakhs for the Film Employees’ Federation of South India (FEFSI) for the benefit of members and daily wage workers.
Director #Atlee has donated 10 lakhs to help the members of the film fraternity! @Atlee_dir has donated 5 Lakhs for #FEFSI Union workers and 5 Lakhs for Tamil Nadu Film Director’s Association. pic.twitter.com/MPMKaGUcuU
On March 23 afternoon, the Film Employees’ Federation of South India (FEFSI) put out a statement concerning the livelihood of daily wage workers and employees of the South Indian film industries. It spoke of the troubles they are facing owing to the Coronavirus outbreak which has halted film shooting, and other work. The federation requested the film fraternity to donate money for the procurement of rice bags, a basic need, for employees. The statement had also mentioned that 15,000 members of the 25,000 member organisation comprise daily wage workers who live off the income earned from shooting sets every day.
The Tamil Film Press Association, the Salem head of ‘Vijay Makkal Iyakkam’, production houses Axess Film Factory, 11:11 Production, producer Dhanu, actors Radha Ravi, Manobala, directors Hari, Santhana Bharathi, and Sanjay Bharathi, Producer Kotapadi J Rajesh, Super Good Films and actor Jiiva, actor Yogi Babu, artists Shankar Krishnamoorthy, Jeeva Ravi, and several others had also made their contributions in kind by donating a certain amount of rice and dal bags.
Last week, RK Selvamani, President of FEFSI, had put out a statement revealing the amount and rice bags collected until April 2. While he thanked all the stars for their contributions, he also expressed his displeasure at how the Tamil film industry wasn’t being as altruistic as the Telugu or Hindi film industry which has been making contributions in crores for daily wage workers.
While Salman Khan has contributed 50 crores to the Bollywood film industry workers, Megastar Chiranjeevi, who recently joined Twitter, has contributed 1 crore for the Tollywood film industry daily wage workers.
This afternoon, he announced that the fund has collected 2.40 crores and 2400 rice bags and stated that they further required 3.75 crores to feed all the 25,000 families of the daily wage workers and members.
“We have been giving out Rs 500 and 25 kilos of rice to daily wagers and members, but the amount collected so far is not sufficient for all the 25,000 families,” said RK Selvamani.
RK Selvamani At The ‘Market Raja MBBS’ Audio Launch
It is noteworthy that several stars have also contributed to the fund raised towards artists of the Nadigar Sangam which includes producer Ishari K Ganesh, actors Karthi, Soori, Nasser, Ponvannan, SJ Suryah, Rohini, Sangeetha, and director Santhana Bharathi.
— NadigarSangam PrNews (@NadigarsangamP) April 5, 2020
Meanwhile, following the statement put out by the South Indian Artists Association / Nadigar Sangam, the Federation of Small Screen Technicians, Tamilnadu had also put out a statement seeking financial assistance. It mentioned that it seeks to help out technicians, writers, and directors of the television industry. Despite the announcement, the federation doesn’t seem to have received contribution of any kind from the film fraternity.
Silverscreen India critics Aditya Shrikrishna and Aswathy Gopalakrishnan write to each other on cinema, critiquing and withdrawal symptoms, while in lockdown, in Tamil Nadu and Kerala.
***
Aswathy,
It is a sombre time to be thinking about cinema, art, and sports seemingly disposable during a crisis of this magnitude. But then, we are also under lockdown and there is just a whole lot of time at hand and never a paucity of content. That’s one advantage film and TV have over live sports. I am amazed to hear thoughts of missing the freaky Fridays and withdrawal symptoms. Not missing it at all (and *clears throat* we come from two of the better Indian film industries) and we were told the big screens are passé anyway. To think I love the big screen and will always choose a movie theatre, over Netflix. But I don’t miss the weekly routine.
I am sure you don’t either. We are also outsiders in the community, we don’t even do press shows. More importantly, we don’t make (yet!) those hotcakes, videos! I guess that bunch is facing a few logistical issues but getting by with Instagram Live, etc. If the government tested as many people as the number of Zoom conference screenshots I am seeing on social media, we’d probably be in better shape. So maybe it is our time to shine, the writers as we call ourselves, we have all the time to write and maybe, just maybe, people have all the time to read. Though I am expecting the first comment under this epistolary exercise to be “this could have been a video”. Well.
It’s also a great time to catch up. I made a list of Lucrecia Martel’s Criterion Closet Picks two years ago, maybe I’ll finally try to get to them now that I am satiated by all the 2019 must-sees.
Do you get time to watch the old stuff and classics? I am constantly pulled away by new content flung at us that about a third into a director’s filmography, I get thrown off track. This is also an issue I find with editors, but I don’t blame them. People want new content on forever-trending content; everything about Ajith and Vijay (#MasterUpdate?), or a listicle on Fahadh Faasil’s top 10 performances. Can we come to an understanding where I’ll give you this listicle but guarantee that piece on an obscure film or a profile on a not-a-star-yet? This is not a problem that’s confined to cinema writing. Since I started this by mentioning sports, here is the tennis version of this to end – a mediocre piece on Federer, Nadal or Djokovic will fetch you more clicks than a great piece on a nutty talent like Ernests Gulbis. Or anything on women’s tennis. See, these are the things that keep me awake at night. When I am not wondering about the shape of the post-Corona world. What about film criticism in India that keeps you up at night, to put it dramatically? Do you get to write what you want to write?
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Aditya,
I thought we, film critics and writers, were always in a sort of self-imposed isolation. At home, glued to small screens and streaming websites, or practicing social distancing using the shield of darkness inside the movie halls.
I agree with you on not missing the Friday first-shows. Sure, the big screen is irreplaceable, but I equally enjoy the set-up that allows me to pause movies in the middle if I come across a great shot or a moment and reflect, or rewind and rewatch. Also, it is a pleasure to watch movies without having to adhere to a deadline.
But hey, it’s been just a couple of weeks since everything came to a standstill and the movie halls shut down. By the end of the lockdown, I will likely be pining for the big screen and watching movies with a crowd.
I suppose we are among the privileged minority who don’t feel tormented by the work-from-home set-up. I, for one, live in a house surrounded by trees in an underpopulated village. I can’t go out but I was never a great fan of going out. I updated my Letterboxd lists and read some of the essays I’d saved long ago. As you said, we aren’t the video-makers yet, which means I am free to keep living space as untidy as I want to and execute work-for-home in its purest form.
This must be one such many occasions when cinema, art and, sports become thoroughly personal, like coping devices or a fly on the wall. I hope our filmmakers, writers, and artists are taking note of the nuances of this unfolding crisis.
Photo Credit- Silverscreen Media Library
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I suppose, in a parallel universe, a horde of semi-promotional pieces on Master and Kunjali Marakkar, and several suspiciously similar “exclusive interviews” of stars are being written, published, and sold on social media. For us, film journalists and critics, this unusual time might be an opportunity to slow down a little, unlearn and learn, and steer the discourse beyond the usual affairs.
Sure, there seems to be a soaring demand for listicles that would help the quarantined readers unwind, like a list of feel-good movies, but eventually, a list of obscure films you love or a piece on film history might find greater demand.
Rather than film criticism, it’s the general interpretation of the term cinephilia that I’ve been thinking a lot about these days.
I remember the first time I watched a non-Indian television series. I’d procured a copy of an American sit-com from my friend. I would watch and rewatch several episodes over weeks, greatly impressed by the show’s clever writing and humour. I didn’t feel an immediate urge to move on to another series but hang in the good-feeling for a little longer, partly because I didn’t know where to look for more content.
The enormousness of the options I have today is overwhelming. I am yet to check out Asur which, I hear, is an excellent series or Money Heist or Irandam Ulagaporin Kadaisi Gundu which I missed at theatres. I want to watch Anuradha on Mubi before it goes off the shelf. The dilemma I face might be silly, akin to that of a shopper who goes to the supermarket, stares at things one doesn’t need, and eventually leaves without buying the essential.
In this age, can a person who consumes a curated set of films and information offered by popular streaming websites and mainstream film magazines be called a cinephile? Aren’t our tastes slowly being shaped and dictated by their marketing decisions?
India might not have seen a greater cinephile than PK Nair whose collection of writings I’m reading these days. He used to watch all kinds of films that he could, including brand commercials and the so-called “trashes” of his time, and document every detail of them because he believed in the future every sort of information would be helpful in learning about Indian cinema. In this age of content proliferation, will we ever know what it means to be hungry for cinema like that?
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Aswathy,
Yes, this lockdown has inadvertently forced people to realise that social distancing is a privilege. At this point, you are lucky if you can continue your regular job sitting at home. Or sit under a roof and watch Netflix endlessly. As you say, if not consciously, at least subconsciously – due to economic impacts among others – I hope our filmmakers realise what a moment this is and how it can impact the way art is created and critiqued. It’s epochal.
Talking of Netflix and PK Nair, reminds me of Celluloid Man, a documentary on him by Shivendra Singh Dungarpur, with several quotable quotes. Here’s one I am paraphrasing, “Cinema has the life of a butterfly. It flies beautifully for a brief period and then vanishes.” The proliferation of content has made this quote sound almost contemporary. Do we watch or consume content? It overwhelms us for an instance and then something new takes its place.
Nair considered cinema a cultural heritage long before others, and after him I wonder if there is anyone of that calibre to articulate the importance of archiving. In the film, he says Ray is as important as the stunt films of Wadia starring Fearless Nadia because in 20-30-60 years, we cannot tell what will be considered valuable (a simplistic example, look at people discovering Contagion, thanks but no thanks to Covid19). Which is when the week-in week-out job of critics seems almost banal if all we do is explain what worked and what didn’t. Cinema is documentation, and I think it is important to lay emphasis on what is being documented, how, and what might have influenced it. Every film leaves a residue of its temporal realities and there is something of value in keeping this record. It need not even be a great or worthy filmmaker. It could just about be anyone, marking the social and political aesthetic of their period. Now, to go after every small detail is hunger, which makes cinephilia of PK Nair aspirational.
There is another funny sequence when Naseeruddin Shah talks about how until FTII, he had never walked out of a film. But PK Nair was always there, watching everything from start to finish. Shah expands on the labour that watching films all day can be and how brain deadening it is to take in everything. I’ve felt that at film festivals myself. I enjoy them immensely and pray the world gets out of this crisis, and I’d like to attend them whenever I can. But the experience can be bittersweet. I remember vivid details of some films. Others, I don’t remember anything at all. It’s all woozy and as time passes, I realise maybe watching 4-5 films in a single day is not necessarily the way it must be experienced. But I am unable to shake it off and if there is a chance to attend a fest, I’ll be the first in line. What have your festival experiences been like and how important do you consider them as a cinephile and as a critic?
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Aditya,
That’s a lovely quote!
Also on your remark on our job as film critics, how many times have we encountered the question, “Will you just say whether to watch the film or not?” One of the hardest tasks in my early days on this job was to frame a suitable comeback to this. It’s easy to fall into this trap of “popular demand” and turn into a weekly movie-recommender. In a way, such questions have helped me understand the importance of this profession better.
And FYI, I don’t have a smart comeback yet. I quietly move on. As someone who started watching movies only in her early twenties, film festivals served as my film schools where I picked up my first lessons in world cinema. It was at IFFK in 2014 that I watched Winter Sleep and warmed up to the impressionistic films of Nuri Bilge Ceylan. It was at another film festival I learned about Hong Sang-soo, the Korean filmmaker of awkward and melancholic comedies. I remember the adrenaline rush I experienced watching Burning (and ‘discovering’ Lee Chang-dong) at Mumbai film festival in 2018.
Yet, I have to say this. After the first few days at every film festival, I suffer a certain numbness, as though my body is asking me to slow down and take stock. The lists I’d prepared of the movies I wanted to catch at the festival start to seem unrealisable. The long queues in front of the screening halls start to become eyesores and not shining symbols of cinephilia. At this point, I start to ask myself existential questions such as what are movies worthy of if they aren’t allowed to move the viewer.
Mind you, I am not undermining the importance of film festivals or the great role they play as a cultural intermediary. I’m saying it’s possible to feel exhausted from over-consumption, even if it’s cinema, some.
Now, the Cannes festival has been postponed owing to the pandemic – a move that is likely to have far-reaching impacts, even on our local film festivals. There are talks of several smaller yet important film festivals going digital. I understand this is temporary, given the uncertainty across the world. Two years ago, when I asked Bina Paul, artistic director of IFFK, if film festivals would be hit by the growing popularity of streaming services, she cited the previous night’s screening of Manto and a conversation with Nandita Das that ensued. “Consumption of cinema isn’t the key (of film festivals)”, she said. There are many factors that draw the audience to film festivals apart from the movie-watching activity.
Over the last couple of years, I have redesigned my film festival schedules to accommodate more human elements. Meeting an old friend or attending a master class or a conversation. Sometimes, I skip a crowd-puller to watch a film I haven’t heard of, which has few reservations or to discuss the film I just came out of with a friend/stranger I met in the queue. There are screenings and events I can’t miss thanks to work commitments. But when I am free to choose, I choose to not be in a haste.
And it is also an opportunity to collect anecdotes. Here is a story I love to repeat. Four years ago, in an afternoon screening of an Egyptian movie at Thiruvananthapuram’s Ajanta theatre, I, heavy-eyed, looked around for some assurance before sliding into a siesta. I caught the sight of a master filmmaker nodding off three empty seats away. I found it amusing that the movie and the afternoon had touched the auteur and me, a lesser mortal, in the same fashion.
In the opening sequence of Madha, a psychological thriller directed by Srividya Basawa, a psychologist asks students to name what’s the most dangerous thing in the world. When he hears answers like atomic bombs, nuclear weapons, he smiles and says that the most dangerous of them all is the ‘human mind’.
The context of this scene is important because debutant filmmaker, Srividya Basawa, keeps playing around with the idea that our mind is more complex than we can imagine. And as the story of Madha unfolds, we find ourselves questioning how some people use their mind in a diabolical way while others use it to resist, even though they are subjected to extreme torture and emotional abuse.
By the end of the film, it becomes more evident that the effect it creates is more interesting than the story it narrates. Perhaps, it’s got more to do with how one perceives the story and the intent behind it on a subconscious level.
The film follows the journey of a young woman, Nisha (Trishna Mukherjee), who becomes a victim of circumstance. She meets Arjun (Venkat Rahul), an aspiring ad-filmmaker, and the duo fall in love with each other. One day, Arjun tells Nisha that he has to go out of town for a few days for an assignment, and soon after that, Nisha begins to experience a strange set of events in her life that make her friends wonder if she’s mentally stable.
When all her efforts to reach out to Arjun go in vain, Nisha becomes increasingly vulnerable, and before she knows it, she’s branded a ‘mentally challenged person’, who’s a threat to society. She’s forcibly sent to an asylum and subjected to torture against her will, and the rest of the story is about how Nisha deals with the new reality of her life.
Madha is streaming on Amazon Prime
In its attempt to maintain an element of mystery and intrigue, Madha deals with a strange predicament. On one hand, it constantly shuffles between three different timelines, which never let you get completely involved in the narrative. In the first half of the film, Nisha’s story is interspersed with a commentary about the human mind; however, the writing is a let down in this segment because there isn’t enough drama or subtext. The monologues of the psychologist in this half are, at best, a distraction. Then, there’s another subplot involving a bunch of scientists, who seem to be conducting some experiments, although it all still seems quite abstract.
But on the other hand, some of the segments, especially those involving the steady decline of Nisha’s mental health are well-handled. And it makes you wonder if that’s the actual story Srividya wanted to narrate. Or did she want us to focus on the stigma that people with mental illnesses face? Or is Madha about something else — about the length which people go to, to fight for what’s right and how the human mind can take a lot more pain than we can fathom?
The film’s redeeming factor, however, is the world it creates and how well the lead actor, Trishna Mukherjee pulls off her character. A significant part of the story is set in an asylum, where patients are often used as scapegoats for clinical trials of new drugs.
Some of the best moments of Madha unfold in this asylum. Be it the claustrophobic effect that the walls create or the sheer terror in Trishna’s eyes when she grapples with what she’s being subjected to for no fault of hers, Madha reaches its full potential in this segment of the narrative. The intricately-designed setting itself is brought alive quite well by cinematographer Abhiraj Nair, who doesn’t let you look beyond the trauma that Nisha goes through.
The green palette and lighting have a huge effect on a subconscious level. Naresh Kumaran’s background score accentuates the grim mood of the film. Trishna Mukherjee holds the film together quite well, especially when it comes to emoting the turmoil that she goes through. And it’s her performance that leaves a long-lasting impression.
The good thing about the film is that Srividya Basawa stays true to the subject and delivers some sparkling moments where the lead character is pushed into a corner. However, the film’s ending itself makes you wonder if someone else hijacked the original story because after spending nearly 90 minutes to create something truly original, the film ends like a masala movie where revenge and vengeance become the conflict point. All said and done, for what it’s worth, Madha marks a promising debut for Srividya and Trishna Mukherjee, even when the film itself doesn’t quite hit the mark consistently.
The Madha review is a Silverscreen original article. It was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Silverscreen.in and its writers do not have any commercial relationship with movies that are reviewed on the site.
In the 1960s, ‘beehive bouffants and dramatic eyeliner were the norms of the day’ as Dinesh Raheja points out in this piece. So, ‘when fresh-faced, scrubbed-clean’, young Jaya Bhaduri first appeared in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Guddi (1971), not only was she welcomed for her un-conceited aesthetic, as Dinesh says, but also for being a performer who would outshine even the most seasoned of actors in the frame with her sheer earnestness.
As she celebrates her 72nd birthday, today, I revisit one of her most endearing roles.
One way to read Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Guddi (1971) is as a film on love, about love for cinema. It is the story of a vivacious teenage, school-going girl, Kusum (Jaya Bachchan), fondly called Guddi, who has a crush on and is obsessed with the superstar hero of the Hindi film industry, Dharmendra, who plays himself in the film.
As a commentary on the culture of the deification of Hindi film heroes, the film is a splendid self-examination. Interspersing visual and aural material like billboards, film brochures, shooting, and behind the scenes footage, the modest Guddi joined an ambitious league of meta films. But what made the film memorable was its discovery and rare exploration of the eroticism of the female spectator’s cinephilia.
Guddi begins with the scene of an early morning assembly in a school. The students are singing Hum Ko Mann Ki Shakti Dena, a prayer asking God to grant them good sense to overcome temptation. The prayer and other songs in the film were sung by Vani Jairam, who curiously went on to be called the Mira of modern India. Kusum is late for the assembly but begins to lead the choir just when the stanza imploring the Almighty to keep them from falsehood, overcome the pleasure-seeking self, rescue them from going astray and lead them the path of dharma features. The concept of dharma is also gendered and, here, it portends to instill the norms of sexual purity among these young girls of ‘marriageable age’. After the prayer is over, Kusum is asked to explain why she’s late. She makes up a story. Outside the principal’s office, she feels no guilt whatsoever, in fact, boasts of her tour de force, to her friends, comparing herself to Meena Kumari – “What is a lie after all but good acting?”
There could not have been a better entry point into a film that explores the idea of cinephilia, reality and fiction, truth and falsehood. It is clear that the kind of cinephilia that Hrishikesh Mukherjee aimed to produce is of a love for cinema, so profound that not only had it integrated seamlessly into one’s daily life, but had become a way of life itself.
Kusum’s conversations with her friends revolve around films – the films they have watched, and the films they are going to watch after school. They call their celebrity crushes by their first names and talk about them like they’re talking about ordinary boys. A classmate talks about how another had nursed a photograph of Jitendra, by adding wet bandages to the forehead of his picture on hearing the news of his sickness. This guiltless, pleasure-borne exchanges of adolescent desire in these scenes reminiscent of “chick-flicks”. The classroom talk brings to our attention the existence of a female spectator of the Hindi film that had been seen as an insignificant minority.
Kusum’s act of going to the movie theatre with her school friends does not invite rebuke from her family. It is accepted as a leisure activity almost as normal as her going outside to play with her friends. It is a pleasantly liberal position given a historical situation, as my mother, also born in the 1970s would tell me about how her father permitted her to go out to eat with her friends but was vehemently opposed to girls watching films, as films were said to corrupt the naïve mind of girls.
Love Love Love
Guddi brings alive an engaged, and eager relationship between the female spectator and her onscreen hero. When Kusum looks out of her taxi in Mumbai, the many, multi-coloured billboards of films call out to her, asking her to Love, Love, Love! The song ‘Pyaar Pyaar Pyaar’ (Love Love Love!) which plays in the background in Mohd. Rafi‘s voice addresses the hero as the “khidmatgaar” or entertainer, assuring her and the whole race of (female) spectators, that as long as he was still alive, he would always be disposed to please them. Abhi salaamat, Abhi hai zinda, Aap ka khidmatgaar/ Aap ki khidmat mein haazir hai, Leke pyaar hi pyaar.
However, the film soon shifts gears to establish that pleasure is not the only emotion at the heart of this relationship, there is also reverence. Possibly because its sole entitlement would have been too anarchical for the times. So, one by one, institutional agents come in to appropriate and redeem this form of cinephilia. First come Kusum’s teachers.
Guddi Mira2
After a lesson on the life of Mirabai, the Bhakti poet who defied her in-laws and social norms by devoting herself to Krishna whom she believed to be her husband, Kusum begins to fashion herself as Dharmendra’s Mira (even literally, as she refuses to wear a silk saree that her sister-in-law gives her, citing “sacrifice” as the reason for her choice). She relates to Mira’s poems so deeply that she begins to articulate her feelings through this projected self. The same concepts of “truth”, “power of God” and “the self” that she sang about in the morning prayer, and learnt in her classroom lecture, now assume new meanings.
Dharmendra, her beloved, is now also her god. As Professor and art-historian Woodman Taylor observes in his essay, “Penetrating gazes”, her imagination of a union with Dharamendra on the lines of Mirabai’s poems is an appropriation of historic poetry to frame a love scene on the screen. “Mira’s poetry in praise of Krishna is normally sung in religious contexts during a religious, visual transaction of gazes called darshan, but Mirabai’s bhajan is used in the film to frame an imagined relationship on the screen, of Kusum longingly viewing the film image of Dharmendra. Here, a song intended for darshan viewing is now used for viewing a lover [through nazar, the erotic gaze of the Persian poetry].”
Film scholar, M Madhava Prasad writes in Ideology of The Hindi Film that, Guddi was “intended by Hrishikesh Mukherjee to critique popular film culture and to unmask what he considered to be an illusionary ’reality’ constructed on the screen by Bombay film companies.” This task is carried out in the film by Kusum’s uncle, Professor Gupta played by Utpal Dutt.
When Gupta realises that Kusum has gone off track, he takes no time to figure out that the way to bring her back was to get her to see the “reality” behind all that filmy façade. Through a brilliant allusion to shadows in Plato’s caves, he assures Navin (Kusum’s sister-in-laws’ cousin and the approved match for Kusum), that once the “parchhaiyaan” fade, Kusum would be over her infatuation.
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So, he hatches a plan that involves the “actor” Dharamendra whom Kusum was obsessed with to shed his larger-than-life persona and allow Kusum to see his “real self”. As part of the plan, Kusum and Navin visit the film set every day to spend time with the “real”, off-screen Dharamendra, and in the process become faced with the challenges, the struggles and the harsh verisimilitudes of the film industry. As the enigma unravels, Kusum learns of the non-glamorous job of the director, writer, stuntmen, camera crew and production staff, “the real heroes” who run the show behind the scenes, while the actor plays the royalty and enjoys the fruits of others’ labour. This sequence is also a joyride for the audience as one contemporary male superstar after another, from Pran to Amitabh Bachchan to Rajesh Khanna, make cameos. This sequence is also one of the most established parts in the film where the filmmaker reclaims control of the narrative back. The position of the film, vis-à-vis the deification of the Hindi film hero becomes more and more apparent.
In one scene, a light man faints and hurts himself. As a kind gesture, actor Om Prakash hands one hundred rupees to the in-charge to give to the injured worker. In another scene, Dharamendra, launches a tirade against a magazine photographer for propagating a culture of hero-worship, but the photographer turns around to remind him that despite the perverted nature of the work, he had a family to feed. The character of Kundan, Kusum’s neighbour who steals from his old mother and runs away to Mumbai on the false promises of becoming a hero is an emphasis on the many falsehoods that keep the industry running.
In another sombre scene, Navin asks Dharamendra how he managed to remain sane in the glamour world. Dharamendra attributes his humility to his simple rural roots. Even Dharamendra’s onscreen name is a persona, not his “real” name.
Through these instances, the actors are still deified, but now the emphasis is on their magnanimity, benevolence and humility despite their elevated status. And this is where Guddi falters. What could have laid the seeds for a new, beautiful, and homegrown cinephilia, driven by the female gaze, (a term that was yet to be invented by Laura Mulvey in 1975) is replaced by a traditional and pedagogical one with male agents. In all of these charades, Guddi’s active viewing position changes to dormant.
Then, a more critical way to read Guddi is as the story of a teenage girl’s family, who plot to arrange a traditional marriage for their daughter, by first purging her love for the movies and heartthrob, actor Dharmendra.
Under the (benevolent, patriarchal) garb of protecting her from madness, by showing her the truth, her uncle actually only feeds her lies and manipulation. A script is still being written, a stage is still being set, and Guddi still remains a spectator, watching the shadows move before her, as a “reel” hero is replaced by a “real” one. As Dharamendra’s larger-than-life persona is dismantled, Prof. Gupta creates Navin in the same image. Kusum is won over by his chivalry, his generosity, his charm, and finally even his bravery. She cannot get over how Navin fought the goons and protected her just like a filmy hero.
In one of the last scenes in the film when she secretly reads Navin’s diary she gets into a dramatised monologue about the real versus fiction, except that the experience she is reciting is not hers.
What’s worse is that the film accomplishes the exorcism of a believer, so much so that by the end of the film, she’s repulsed by the name Dharamendra and everything film. As she urges Navin to take her she utters the words – I trust you. I have faith in you.
Guddi Misce
This triumph of the family unit, over, promising female aspiration is a message that runs through, not unfairly, Jaya Bhaduri’s (initial) journey in the Hindi film industry. Look at some of her subsequent films, Koshish (1972), Abhimaan (1973) or Mili (1975). Bhaduri’s character either dies, is suffering from a terminal illness or is abandoned for a sufficient period during the film, lest she becomes too powerful and consumes the hero.
Guddi’s ultimate absorption into the shadows, occupying the same peripheral Mira position, as a new hero/man assumes the position of her god, also symbolically underlines Jaya Bhadhuri’s initiation into the industry of the hero which she tried to shake but ultimately could not entirely uproot.
Kanika Katyal is a culture writer and reporter based in Delhi.
Actors-directors Rakshit Shetty and Rishab Shetty will be uniting to impart filmmaking knowledge to viewers through a set of masterclasses on Instagram. The duo is reportedly teaming up with The Big Little, a Bangalore based marketing agency founded by Kavya Shankaregowda and co-founded by Bharath Sudhama, for the project.
The Big Little was the marketing partner for Rakshit’s last outing Avane Srimannarayanathat hit the screens in December 2019. They have also been the marketing partners for several Kannada films such as Pailwaan, Kavaludaari, Bell Bottom and Kiss.
Owing to the lockdown, several media firms, agencies, celebrities, and individuals have been going live on Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, and Instagram to connect with fans and audiences. The Big Little aims at providing infotainment to people during the lockdown with a series called ‘The Big Little Innovation’. They will be tying up with various celebrities and plan on holding interactive sessions on Instagram.
According to a report in The Hindu, Rakshit will be discussing movies and behind-the-scenes activities with actor-director Rishab Shetty, The Seven Odds (writing team), and Ajaneesh Loknath (composer). “People can post questions to Rakshit on his Instagram account. He will pick five questions, that will be answered in the masterclass,” said Bharath to the publication. While the session is yet to be scheduled by the agency, Rakshit spoke to Metroplus about how the idea behind the class was to impart knowledge and also about his perception of filmmaking.
Rakshit Shetty At The ‘Avane Srimannarayana’ Press Meet
The actor who is currently working on his directorial Punyakoti said in a recent interview to Silverscreen India, “If a director is a writer, nothing like it. But, even if he is not, it’s nice if he can get involved in the process at some level. In fact, when we wrote Avane…, director Sachin Ravi was with us throughout, and thoroughly involved. He had a complete grip on what the film was about.”
“When we write in a group, there has to be one person who guides the team, who knows exactly what is being written. That said, there are people who can take a bound script, read it, and direct. I prefer a more collaborative process because I feel the perception of the writer and director has to sync. Even with 777 Charlie (written and directed by Kiranraj K, and starring Rakshit), I did give my inputs. That said, I definitely think good writing is the basis of any cinema. Without good writing, you cannot make a good film. Some films, say Punyakoti that I will be doing, I’d like to write on my own. I think it depends on the philosophy behind a film and the journey it will take,” he added.
Telugu star Allu Arjun, who celebrates his birthday today, will next be seen in Pushpa. The actor reunites with his Arya director Sukumar. The first look poster features the actor in a rugged look, quite unlike his usual urbane screen self.
Sukumar’s last outing as a director was Rangasthalam which too featured Ram Charan in a rural setting. The film was a sharp critique of caste and class, in the erstwhile combined Telugu state’s hinterlands, and was well-received both critically and commercially.
Allu Arjun was last seen in Ala Vaikunthapuramloo, which too did well. The movie is currently streaming on Netflix.
Pushpa will star Rashmika Mandanna as well and will have music by Devi Sri Prasad. Vijay Sethupathi may play the villain; no official statement has been made on this regard. Miroslaw Kuba Brozek, a Polish cinematographer will handle the camera. The multilingual is being made in Tamil, Telugu, Hindi, Kannada and Malayalam.
Another poster features Allu Arjun seated on the floor with cops standing behind him, surrounded by logs of red sanders. The film will possibly be set in the Seshachalam forest area.
Actress Hansika Motwani, who had been keeping a low profile lately, has launched her own YouTube channel on Monday, April 6. The Maha star plans on entertaining her fans and followers by letting them take a look into her personal and professional life through videos and various other means. The actress has been excited about the channel for quite a while.
Super excited and a little nervous to share with you all that I’ve finally launched my YouTube channel. So get ready to go on a crazy ride with me and get an insight into my life and the real me. Make sure you like share and subscribe 😉 https://t.co/dbNLBqPcECpic.twitter.com/n4Tg0j7eEF
Recently, the actor had launched 270 GIFs (Graphics Interchange Format) under various categories on social media platforms. The actor had reportedly associated with GIPHY, a popular GIF platform, to create the same. She went on to be the first South Indian star to have an exclusive set of GIFs for herself. The GIFs have garnered more than 150 million views in a week.
After the channel was launched, the first video that dropped was the making of the actor’s GIFs at a studio on February 6, with her crew. The actress is seen wearing a pink turtle-neck bodycon, expressing several emotions with a green screen at the backdrop. She tells the viewers about how it isn’t as easy as it looks owing to the speed at which it is shot and also about her obsession with the social media platform, Instagram. At the end of the 3-minute video she thanks her entire team for helping her out.
Produced by Silly Monks Entertainment, the GIFs have been designed by Bhanuchandar Gudla.
Recently in an interview with the Times Of India, Hansika said, “I like interacting through expressions and I love using GIFs. So, my team said I should think of having my own GIFs. We’ve been working on it for four months now. I was shooting for two films in Hyderabad at that time and allocated half a day to shoot these GIFs.”
She also added that there were restrictions with respect to costume and that a particular tone had to be followed while shooting for it.
hansika-motwani
Meanwhile, the actor who was last seen in the 2019 Telugu film Tenali Ramkrishna BA BL helmed by G. Nageswara Reddy will next feature in UR Jameel‘s Maha, an untitled Tamil horror-comedy directed by director duo Hari Shankar and Hareesh Narayan, Manoj Damodharan’s Partnerand in an untitled raw Telugu web series directed by G Ashok.
Watch the behind-the-scenes video of Hansika’s GIFs here.
Actor Ajith Kumar is the latest to contribute to the Film Employees’ Federation of South India (FEFSI). The actor has chipped in 25 lakh rupees for the benefit of daily wage workers who are currently in a state of crisis owing to the Coronavirus pandemic. In addition to this, the actor has also contributed 50 lakhs each to the PM Cares Fund and CM Relief Fund and 2.5 lakhs to the PRO (Public Relations Officer) Union.
A few days back, actress Nayanthara had contributed 20 lakhs towards the FEFSI fund. RK Selvamani, President of FEFSI, had thanked the actor for her generous contribution.
On March 23 afternoon, the Film Employees’ Federation of South India (FEFSI) put out a statement concerning the livelihood of daily wage workers and employees of the South Indian film industries. It spoke of the troubles they are facing owing to the Coronavirus outbreak which has halted film shooting, and other work. The federation requested the film fraternity to donate money for the procurement of rice bags, a basic need, for employees. The statement had also mentioned that 15,000 members of the 25,000 member organisation comprise daily wage workers who live off the income earned from shooting sets every day.
Apart from the stars, director Karthik Subbaraj (1 lakh), cinematographer R Rathinavel (55k), actor-producers Kushboo and Sundar C (5 lakhs), actor Ponvannan (25k) and several other artists, PRs and journalists had made their contributions in cash. Producer Kotapadi J Rajesh, Super Good Films and actor Jiiva, actor Yogi Babu, artists Shankar Krishnamoorthy, Jeeva Ravi, and several others had also contributed in kind.
The Tamil Film Press Association, the Salem head of ‘Vijay Makkal Iyakkam’, production houses Axess Film Factory, 11:11 Production, producer Dhanu, actors Radha Ravi, Manobala, directors Hari, Santhana Bharathi, and Sanjay Bharathi and several others had also made their contributions in kind by donating a certain amount of rice and dal bags.
On April 2, a statement by RK Selvamani revealed that the total amount collected stood at 1.59 crores with 1,983 kilos of rice. While he thanked all the stars for their contributions, he also expressed his displeasure at how the Tamil film industry wasn’t being as altruistic as the Telugu or Hindi film industry which has been making contributions in crores for daily wage workers.
While Salman Khan has contributed 50 crores to the Bollywood film industry workers, Megastar Chiranjeevi, who recently joined Twitter, has contributed 1 crore for the Tollywood film industry daily wage workers.
FEFSI added that the amount contributed is not enough to help out the 18,000 workers of the industry and have thereby requested the film fraternity once again to donate generously.
“We are planning to give Rs 500 and 25 kilos of rice to 18,000 daily wage workers but the amount collected so far is not sufficient,” said RK Selvamani.
RK Selvamani At The ‘Market Raja MBBS’ Audio Launch
It is noteworthy that several stars have also contributed to the fund raised towards artists of the Nadigar Sangam which includes producer Ishari K Ganesh, actors Karthi, Soori, Nasser, Ponvannan, SJ Suryah, Rohini, Sangeetha, and director Santhana Bharathi.
— NadigarSangam PrNews (@NadigarsangamP) April 5, 2020
Meanwhile, following the statement put out by the South Indian Artists Association / Nadigar Sangam, the Federation of Small Screen Technicians, Tamilnadu has also put out a statement seeking financial assistance. It mentioned that it seeks to help out technicians, writers, and directors of the television industry.
The actors laid emphasis on the fact that it is important to stay indoors in this time of crisis and also announced that they have raised a fund with the help of sponsors and Sony Pictures to help daily wage workers.
The monochrome 4-and-a-half-minute short film revolves around Amitabh’s misplaced sunglasses, which is searched for by all the other members only to realise that Amitabh is looking for it just to keep it away. Though shot individually by all the stars in their respective homes, the short maintains perfect pictorial continuity with light-hearted moments. And since it’s about sunglasses, there’s no doing away with Rajinikanth’s iconic sunglass-sunglass style.
In the end, Amitabh calls the entire Indian film industry one family and asks viewers to not panic about the situation and stay safe indoors. “This too shall pass,” says the actor.
Family has been virtually helmed by Prasoon Pandey, a popular ad filmmaker known for his One Black Coffee ad for Ericsson. The short and the fundraiser for the workers have been supported by Sony Pictures Networks India, Kalyan Jewellers, and actor Amitabh Bachchan. It is noteworthy that the actor is the brand ambassador of Kalyan Jewellers.
Earlier, a statement shared by Sony Pictures Networks India said, “Given the unprecedented nature of the situation we are in, an initiative undertaken by Mr. Amitabh Bachchan, ‘WE ARE ONE’ has been supported by Sony Pictures Networks India and Kalyan Jewellers, through which the monthly ration of 1,00,000 households across the country will be funded.”
It added, “Through a commercial tie-up with a leading chain of hypermarkets and grocery stores in India, digitally barcoded coupons have been distributed to a verified list of workers from the All India Film Employees Confederation. Furthermore, monetary help has also been extended to those in need.”
Amazon Prime Video today announced the upcoming digital premiere of the recently-released Tamil rom-com Dharala Prabhu. Written and Directed by Krishna Marimuthu, the film is the Tamil adaptation of 2012’s critical and commercial success Vicky Donor. The film stars Harish Kalyan playing the role of Prabhu, the biggest sperm donor at a fertility clinic. The film also stars Vivek and Tanya Hope. The film will premiere on Prime Video from 9 April onwards.
Lead actor Harish Kalyan said, “Dharala Prabhu is a new-age Tamil romantic comedy that is sure to leave audiences in splits! I have been fortunate enough to be able to work on the remake of a film as highly acclaimed as Vicky Donor”.
“I was very intrigued when I watched Shoojit Sircar’s film Vicky Donor in 2012 and had hoped that I could collaborate with him on something similar,” Director Krishna Marimuthu said, “Dharala Prabhu has been a dream come true for me where I got the opportunity to recreate Shoojit Sir’s progressive take on such an interesting albeit rarely addressed topic for the Tamil film audience. The team has given us complete freedom to give our take on the film and I had a great experience working with such a wonderful cast.”
On Monday afternoon, actor-politician Kamal Haasan penned a long letter to the Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi expressing his displeasure at how the Coronavirus crisis has been handled so far and about how the livelihood of the people at the lowest rung of the economic ladder doesn’t seem to be a matter of concern.
The letter came in reaction to the 9pm-9 minute lights-out initiative observed on Sunday, April 5 after the previous 5-minute ‘clapping’ initiative observed on March 22 throughout India. PM Narendra Modi had directed the people of India to do so in an attempt to express solidarity for the front liners and healthcare workers who have been working relentlessly to help tackle the global pandemic.
The actor spoke of how he had already addressed a letter to the Prime Minister on March 23, the day after the one-day Janata Curfew, asking him not to blur out the people at the very bottom from his sight. He said that he was shocked to see the sudden imposition of a strict lockdown, much like how demonetisation was announced and was proved wrong once again just like in 2016.
He said that Modi is one of the very few leaders to have such mass appeal, about 1.4 billion, who would follow his orders without question, this applying for both his supporters and naysayers. But he also mentioned that the willingness to follow orders doesn’t imply that they could be dominated. “We will comply with your wishes and orders but our compliance must not be confused as our subjugation. My own role as a leader of my people entails me to speak my mind and question your ways. Please pardon my lack of etiquette, if any,” said the actor.
He said he fears the repetition of the problems that occurred during demonetisation except on a larger scale that might lead to the death of the poor. He also spoke of how these psychotherapy techniques may bring peace and calmness but only cater to the richer section, those who have balconies to do so, and not for the foundation on which it is built. “I’m sure you don’t want to be a balcony government only for the balcony people by completely ignoring the poor who are the biggest constituent of our society, our support system and the foundation on which the middle-class, the well-to-do and the rich build their lives,” said the politician.
உயிர் காக்க 21 நாட்கள் உள்ளிருக்க சொல்லும் நேரத்தில்,அணிசேரா தொழிலாளர்கள் எங்ஙனம் பசியாறுவர் என்பதையும் கவனத்தில் கொள்க.
பெருமுதலாளிகளுக்கு மட்டும் உதவும் நேரம் இதுவல்ல. இந்திய நிதிநிலையை என்றும் காத்தவன் சிறுதொழில் செய்பவனே.
He emphasised on how Modi was more concerned about bailing out the rich instead of focussing on the collective society. He added that after the current pandemic ends, a deadlier one though smaller in profile – HED’20 (Hunger, Exhaustion, and Deprivation) would impact us, the ground for which is currently being laid.
Kamal Haasan said that instead of tackling the situation when possible, Modi tends to slide into his comfort zone and come up with spirited election-style campaign ideas. He added that Modi has created the impression that he finds comfort in outsourcing responsible behaviour. He also takes a dig at how Modi’s government refuses to accept the opinions of intellectuals. “I am sorry if I have offended you with the use of the word intellectual here, for I know that you and your government do not like that word. But I am a follower of Periyar and Gandhi and I know they were intellectuals first. It’s the intellect that guides one into choosing the path of righteousness, equality, and prosperity for all,” he wrote.
He questioned Modi as to why his government didn’t prevent the various congregations that have led to an increase in the number of cases. “Long into the epidemic, when the country’s entire law and order system had been primed, your system failed to stop congregations of ignorant and foolish people in different parts of the country. These have become the biggest hubs for the spread of the epidemic in India. Who is responsible for all the lives lost due to this negligence?” read the letter.
The actor said that while Modi had a 4-month notice period to keep the nation in order he decided to act upon the situation in a mere 4 hours, proving that he isn’t a visionary leader. He also commented on how his officials only looked at ways of rebuking feedback instead of looking at the good side of it.
Kamal also said, “I dare anyone to call me an anti-national this time. The common populace cannot be blamed for being ill-prepared for a crisis of this magnitude but you can be and shall be blamed for this. The government is appointed and paid by the people to keep their lives normal and safe.”
He ended the note by appealing to the leader to listen to the voices of the nation who truly care. He said that India’s biggest potential is nothing but the human population and that this was the time to unite instead of choosing sides. “We are angry, but we are still on your side. Jai Hind!,” added the letter.
Kamal Haasan, Kailash Satyarthi At The ‘Compassion For Children’ Documentary Screening
When Modi had called for the 9 pm-9minute initiative, Kamal took to Twitter to express how he was expecting an announcement for the betterment of the people but ended up listening to an initiative that had been taken up by his political party way before (Torchlight being the symbol of MNM).
பிரதமர் பேசுகிறார் என்றதும் நான் அதிகம் எதிர்பார்த்தேன். பாதுகாப்புக்கவசங்கள் தட்டுப்பாடுக்கான தீர்வு, அத்தியாவசிய பொருட்கள் தட்டுப்பாடின்றி விநியோகம், ஏழைமக்களின் வாழ்வாதாரம், வருங்கால பொருளாதார நடவடிக்கை என, ஆனால் நாம் என்றோ கையில் எடுத்த டார்ச்சுக்கே அவர் இன்றுதான் வருகிறார்.
He had recently offered to provide his party office building, if the government was willing, for treating COVID-19 positive patients with the help of the doctors working for his party. He was willing to convert the quarters into a temporary medical centre to help the people in crisis.
இந்த நெருக்கடி நேரத்தில் எளியோருக்கு பணி செய்ய மக்கள் நீதி மய்யத்தில் இருக்கும் மருத்துவர்களை கொண்டு, என் வீடாக இருந்த கட்டிடத்தை, தற்காலிகமாக எளிய மக்களுக்கான மருத்துவ மய்யமாக்கி,மக்களுக்கு உதவ நினைக்கிறேன்.அரசின் அனுமதி கிடைத்தால்,அதை செய்ய தயாராக காத்திருக்கிறேன்.
உங்கள் நான்
Recently, rumours were widespread that the actor had tested Coronavirus positive which was later refuted by the actor. Officials had pasted a quarantine sticker on the building of his political party office, Makkal Needhi Maiam, assuming that Gautami, who had recently returned from Dubai was still living in the building.
The actor had also put out a video about ways to tackle the pandemic a few weeks back. The two-part video covered everything right from social distancing to washing hands, and the need to stay indoors.
Malayalam cinema’s music maestro, fondly known as Arjunan Master, died on Monday at his Kochi residence. He was 84. Amidst the national lockdown to contain the Corona virus, his cremation was held at Palluruthi crematorium with State honours, attended by fewer than 20 people, on the same day.
With the death of MK Arjunan, one more of our last links to a golden past of Malayalam film music has been severed.
Master made his debut in playback music composing through Karuthapournami (1968) and created the best of his works in the 70s, a period when songs, regardless of the genre of films, were composed with the utmost attentiveness, and music composers and lyricists were held in supreme importance in the film industry. Alongside stalwarts like MS Baburaj, Dakshinamoorthi and G Devarajan whom he regarded as his mentor, Arjunan Master created numerous soulful melodies that have easily outlived their films and heroes.
For the later generations, Master might be best known as the composer of Chettikulangara Bharani Naalil (Sindhu, 1975), a hugely popular “dance number” that partly borrows from Tequila (The Champs, 1958). A favourite pick of the state’s ganamela singers, a remix version of the song was used in Anwar Rasheed’s Chota Mumbai (2007). The remix version, however, mistook the charming geniality of the song for mindless noise.
To be carried away by the famous few of Master’s works is to deprive oneself of the lesser-known sublime melodies he created, sometimes for shallow comic-entertainers and crime-dramas. Neela Niseedhini, a song that bears the weight of a lover’s longing, is featured in a sleuth comedy, CID Nazir (1971), and Pournami Chandrika Thottu Vilichu, an eloquent romantic number for ages, comes in the backdrop of a shabby love story in an odd college comedy, Rest House (1969). In 1979, he composed songs for 23 films, a record number in Malayalam cinema. His partnership with Sreekumaran Thampi is one of the most successful and renowned in the history of Malayalam film music.
When director Jayaraj borrowed Master’s song, Kasthuri Manakkunnallo for his film Nayika (2011), someone uninitiated wouldn’t, in all possibility, have guessed that the song was originally composed four decades ago, for Picnic (1975). The composition exudes the warmth of the spring the lyrics talk about. The nadaswaram interlude after the pallavi, for one, is exceptional.
People who have known Master at various points in his life remember him as a soft-spoken man, immensely kind, and content with life. Prior to his film career, he worked in Kerala’s bustling theatre scene and received 14 State awards. He worked in over 200 films and created over 600 songs. in the most recent in Jayaraj’s Bhayanakam (2018) and Vellaram Kunnile Vellimeenukal that is still under production. When he won the Kerala State Film Award for music composition for Bhayanakam in 2018, many expressed disbelief that it was Master’s first state award in his career that spans five decades.
When journalist K Pradeep of The Hindu asked him in a post-award interview about the many occasions the state honour eluded him, he replied, “During those days of struggle, trying to make ends meet, learning music in between, and composing for amateur plays, my dream was to listen to one of my songs on radio. From there I have journeyed this far. What more can I ask for?” This was in reference to his childhood and teenage that was spent in poverty and orphanhood, in Fort Kochi where he was born, and a charity home in Palani where his mother sent him and his younger brother as she was unable to fend for them. His talent was first spotted by the head of the charity home who made arrangements to teach him Carnatic music. While he’s always maintained a stoic personality, he has, in several interviews, spoke of how the hardships he went through helped him grasp and give musical interpretations to deep philosophies and grief that poets like Thampi and Vayalar expressed in their lyrics.
Arjunan Master’s contribution to film music isn’t limited to the songs he composed but the talents he discovered and mentored. Singer Sujatha Mohan made her debut as a playback singer through a song composed by Master in Tourist Bangalow (1975). Oscar-winning musician AR Rahman’s late father RK Shekhar worked with Arjunan Master as an associate in orchestration. After Shekhar’s death, his wife requested Master to take Rahman, who was then a frail boy obsessed with keyboard, under his wings. Thus, Rahman began his astoundingly successful career in film music by playing a keyboard bit in Master’s composition in Adimachangala (1981).
On Monday, Rahman paid a moving tribute to Master through a tweet and an old picture of them posing in between the recording of a song.
An act of kindness lasts a lifetime. I will never forget the love & encouragement you gave me during my childhood.Your innumerable melodic songs are a testament for your everlasting legacy. May you rest in peace MK Arjunan Master…My condolences to the family, friends & admirers pic.twitter.com/GpVO4FebII
Amazon Prime Video today announced the digital premiere of recently released Telugu film Madha. Directed by debutante Srividya Basawa, Madha is a female-centric psychological thriller that revolves around a small-time proofreader Nisha who begins dating someone without realising his intentions.
The film has been a festival favourite and had a limited run in theatres. Starting April 8, 2020, the film will begin streaming on Amazon’s OTT platform.
“I am excited about the love we have been receiving on Madha,” first-time director Srividya Basawa said, “Despite the limited theatrical run due to the pandemic; we have received a phenomenal response by viewers. It has been an amazing experience working with the talented cast and I am happy that the audience will now be able to enjoy Madha from their personal devices on Prime Video.”
Lead Actor Trishna Mukherjee said, “I am thrilled that audiences have the chance to watch Madha so soon after it released! It was an absolute delight to work on a mystery thriller. Due to the ongoing global crisis our film’s theatre run had to be cut short, but with the film making its digital debut, audiences can now enjoy the movie while also being safe at home.”
