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Business Mayor
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Business Mayor
Change of script in God's own country, and she's liking It
That statement might confuse North Indian readers who have grown to admire Malayalam cinema's persistent exposes of patriarchy and have been asking why present-day Hindi cinema fails to replicate the thoughtfulness and acute observation powers of Uyare, Sara's, The Great Indian Kitchen, Ullozhukku, and similarly insightful contemporary Malayalam films. Bear with me. Feminichi Fathima is set in a Muslim home where the wife is burdened by her joyless, despotic, fanatical husband's diktats. Appuram deals with a non-conformist nuclear Hindu household that has broken away from an upper-caste extended family, which disapproves of a woman's decision to marry a man of her choice and considers menstruating women impure. Victoria's eponymous Christian heroine navigates her job at a beauty parlour with clients from varied socio-economic backgrounds, while at home, her father reacts violently to her inter-community romance. These are entertaining films that examine patriarchy with the depth and fearlessness Malayalam cinema is known for. This is the great irony of the Malayalam film industry: when it dives into gender-related issues, it does so better than any other film industry in the rest of India, and takes up subjects that most filmmakers elsewhere in the country either have not noticed, or are too afraid to touch. Yet – and this is a big 'yet' – the percentage of Malayalam films with female protagonists is abysmally small. The number of female directors is even smaller. In fact, the empathy pervading the best of Malayalam cinema tends to overshadow the sad reality that the worst of Malayalam cinema lionises masculinist toxicity as unabashedly as commercial cinema of all Indian languages. Film industries tend to be microcosms of the societies from which they emerge. The Malayalam film industry, thus, reflects the state in which it is based: Kerala, respected for decades for its consistently high literacy rate, progressive government-run social welfare programmes, laudable sex ratio, and other impressive statistics matching the most developed countries in the world, yet also a deeply patriarchal this land of contradictions, the pushback against patriarchy is as strong as patriarchy itself. Most significantly, the one-of-its-kind Women in Cinema Collective has been campaigning for equality in the Malayalam industry since 2017, while women of India's remaining film industries have largely been bullied into silence after the MeToo wave of 2018. The skewed gender ratio in Kerala's filmmaking business has slightly improved too, with the likes of Sophia Paul, Sandra Thomas, Rima Kallingal, writer-director Anjali Menon, and a handful of others emerging as producers in the past decade or so. The past five years have also witnessed a steady stream of noteworthy new female directors. They include Ratheena PT, who helmed the excellent Puzhu starring Mammootty and Parvathy Thiruvothu; Indhu VS, who made the poetic 19(1)(a) with Nithya Menen and Vijay Sethupathi; and Kunjila Mascillamani, whose Asanghadithar was the standout short in the anthology Freedom Fight, in addition to Indu Lakshmi and Sivaranjani. Malayalam cinema is still a long way from a day when women routinely headline Empuraan-sized extravaganzas. But it's clear that change, even if minimal, is afoot in God's Own Country.
New Indian Express
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New Indian Express
Sarkeet Movie Review: Asif Ali's stirring performance anchors this heartwarming ride
There's something beautiful about watching Asif Ali crying on screen. At the risk of sounding sadistic, Asif does have the knack for convincingly portraying emotional moments. What makes it all the more special is that he acquired this knack through years of constant chiseling of his abilities. We have seen him ace emotionally charged moments in films like Anuraga Karikkin Vellam (2016), Uyare (2019), Kettyolaanu Ente Malakha (2019), Kishkindha Kaandam (2024), etc. And with Sarkeet, he takes it a notch higher. The film rides high on Asif's beautifully understated performance and his rapport with child actor Orhan. Director: Thamar KV Cast: Asif Ali, Orhan, Deepak Parambol, Divya Prabha, Swathi Das Prabhu, Prasanth Alexander Like his directorial debut 1001 Nunakal (2022), Thamar KV has chosen a Gulf backdrop for Sarkeet. Ameer (Asif Ali) is on his second visit to the Gulf, but is yet to find a job. He faces constant setbacks during interviews, yet tries to hold the hope of a better future. Parallely, we also see a middle-class couple trying hard to find their work-life balance. Balu (Deepak Parambol) and Stephy (Divya Prabha) are extremely stressed with their jobs, but their biggest worry is their son Jefron aka Jeppu. He is shown as an unruly child who is diagnosed with Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and it is clear that the parents aren't equipped enough to handle him. And that's when Ameer unceremoniously enters their lives. Sarkeet brings back pleasant memories of Kamal's sweet little film Pookkalam Varavayi (1991), starring Jayaram and Baby Shamili, especially how the heartwarming relationship between a child and an adult is depicted. The kids in both films crave love and care, which they eventually get from strangers. Though Ameer finds himself stuck with Jeppu, he handles the child with a lot of warmth and patience. He understands the child better and acts like a guardian, probably because he knows the value of a father figure. This minute detail about Ameer's past adds depth to the character and his bond with the child. Orhan's role and his antics might come across as irksome, but that's the nature of the character, and he plays it effectively. Deepak Parambol and Divya Prabha also deliver sincere performances, despite their limited scope. While there was immense scope for melodrama, Thamar shows restraint in depicting the couple's rocky lives. We see them leading their lives mechanically, without even smiling at each other. While the father is clueless about his son's disorder, Stephy, despite being a nurse, doesn't seem to know any better. Their only solution seems to be locking him up, which ultimately leads to all the chaos. The film is a reminder of how parents have the responsibility to not just provide but also nurture. Thamar, being a Gulf Malayali himself, paints a realistic picture of life there. Interestingly, he keeps the melodrama of expat struggle to a minimum. Instead, we see the harsh reality of broke youngsters, who resort to shady jobs like distributing visiting cards of massage parlours, and even exploiting people by making them work for free in the pretext of interviews. There's also the other side, like a hotel owner serving Ameer free food. It is not something we haven't seen before, but it is important to reiterate the power of goodness. After an engaging first hour, Sarkeet loses a bit of steam and starts going in circles, especially with Ameer's struggles with Jeppu's growing tantrums. While their encounters are mostly realistic, Thamar's treatment becomes oddly cinematic during two episodes—when Ameer tries to engage the child with shadowplay and later during stargazing. The dialogues in these scenes are too pretentious for a child to decipher. It felt like the characters were addressing the audience rather than conversing amongst themselves. Despite all this, Asif, Orhan, and their wonderful chemistry manage to keep things alive. The sarkeet (outing) initially comes across as a much-needed getaway for the child, but as the night progresses, we see Ameer also momentarily forgetting all his troubles and enjoying his time. In a broader sense, the film can also offer a similar experience if you're just willing to overlook some flaws.
