The male lead in the recent Malayalam film, ‘The Great Indian Kitchen’, a hit on OTT, is a man (played by Suraj Venjaramood) with no noticeable blemish in his character (as per the usual parameters that ‘define’ a responsible Malayali male). He does not smoke or drink, doesn’t hang around with his friends unnecessarily but returns home straight after work. He also doesn’t have...
The male lead in the recent Malayalam film, ‘The Great Indian Kitchen’, a hit on OTT, is a man (played by Suraj Venjaramood) with no noticeable blemish in his character (as per the usual parameters that ‘define’ a responsible Malayali male). He does not smoke or drink, doesn’t hang around with his friends unnecessarily but returns home straight after work. He also doesn’t have any extramarital affair nor is he a wife beater. Yet, in the climax scene, his wife, played by Nimisha Sajayan, pours a bucket of waste water on his face (as well as his father’s) and walks out of the marriage.
The film portrays the life of a young woman married to an aristocratic Hindu family. The entire burden of household chores falls on her in the absence of her mother-in-law (when the latter goes away to attend to her pregnant daughter’s needs). As is expected of a ‘good’ daughter-in-law, she tries to do her best. She cooks, cleans and washes everyone’s clothes, including the undergarments of her husband and father-in-law—all this without a word of protest.
The film is a great show of how patriarchy works in different ways—sometimes overt, sometimes covert and cajoling. And all this while the woman of the house bound by societal ties burns in passive aggression.
None, including her husband, is aggressive to her. No one commands her to do these tasks. Her conservative father-in-law, who hates the use of a mixer-grinder and washing machine, affectionately calls her ‘daughter’ and passively imposes on her that she should cook and wash manually. He is particularly impressed with her cooking skills when she seeks permission to go for a job.
To add insult to injury, she is asked to keep away from the kitchen and to confine herself in a dark and untidy room during her periods as her husband and father-in-law prepare for Sabarimala pilgrimage. Menstruating women are treated ‘impure’ and the norms ask them to keep distance from men who are on A 41-day ‘penance’ before going to the pilgrimage.
Unable to bear the pain and humiliation beyond a point, she retaliates and walks out the house to live an independent life with more dignity.
The film triggered a huge debate on social media and was widely acclaimed, mostly by women, many who lead ordinary lives just as the wife in the film. Hundreds of women claimed that the female lead was none other than themselves and that they could identify with the film as similar incidents happened in their lives or those of someone they knew.
However, for many, walking out of their married lives is not an option. This could probably be a result of the low level of employment participation of women. According to the latest Family Health Survey, Malayali women are far behind their counterparts in other states in terms of employment.
An unsubmissive trend
‘The Great Indian Kitchen’ is the latest in a series of Malayalam films that have overturned the celebration of hyper-masculinity on the big screen. Heroes beating up multiple villains single-handedly and saving women, displaying muscle strength and twirling the moustache, and even showing off their intelligence in defeating the villain used to be the norm.
Since 2015-16, a few films have brought in a shift, portraying the ‘complete man’ as somewhat incomplete and less heroic’ and critically reflecting on the ‘toxic masculinity’ that glorified violence, aggression and domination.
‘Mayanadi’ (The Mystic River), a 2017 romance thriller directed by Ashiq Abu and written by Shyam Pushkaran, turns the tables on masculinity.
The female lead is someone who is very clear about her career goals and relationship requirements. The aspiring actress refuses to be a subordinate docile lover. Her boyfriend who is a gangster, is docile and submissive to her. Even after having sex, she reminds him that “sex is not a promise”. Mayanadi brings a fresh approach to a woman’s life whose world is not limited to just romance and relationship or revolves around the man.
In ‘Kumbalangi Nights’ (2019), the male lead Shammy (Fahad Fazil) is the married man, a hairdresser by profession, assumes that he, as ‘a responsible husband’, should do his job, take care of his wife and family and ensure that their reputation is maintained.
He dominates the wife’s mother and sister and goes to the extent of even disapproving the sister’s choice of relationship with a man because of his family background and the lack of a proper job. And when met with resistance, he launches violence on the women. Though later it is revealed that he is mentally unstable.
Aggressive masculinity a disease
“Aggressive masculinity is in fact a disease,” says Shyam Pushkaran, the script writer of the movie.
Critics have pointed out that the filmmakers have given an opportunity to the Malayali male audience to distance themselves from Shammy by depicting him as mentally unstable.
This relief is lost in ‘Ishq’ (2019) wherein the distinction between the hero and the villain gets blurred. Sachi (Shane Nigum) and his girlfriend take a holiday and go for a drive. They park the car in a dark corner and exchange a kiss. A stranger suddenly turns up and intimidates them pretending to be a cop. After some terrifying moments of questioning and threatening, at one point, the stranger even attempts to molest her, and after some time, somehow the couple manages to escape.
A shattered Sachi becomes utterly disillusioned and is sleepless and he even stops talking to the girl. He goes in search of the stranger and realises that he was not a cop. He manages to find his house and pretends to his wife that he is a friend of her husband. He starts behaving in a strange manner, frightening the woman. He uses the same intimidating tactics with her.
The stranger who at one point had venomously harassed Sachi and his girlfriend, turns out to be an ordinary weak man trying to protect his wife. His wife was totally clueless about what her husband had done.
The cinema depicts that there is a villain in every hero and ‘conquering’ a woman is the way accepted by both villains and heroes, to manifest masculinity. Sachi, relieved at knowing that his fiancée was not even touched by the stranger, comes back and offers her a wedding ring. The girl shows him the middle finger and walks away.
‘Uyare’ (Parvathi Thiruvoth and Asif Ali) is the story of a woman, an aspiring pilot, who is attacked with acid by her lover, who is very possessive, restricting and dominating, all in the name of love.
For long, such masculine characteristics—possessive and dominating—have been glorified in Malayalam cinema as a manifestation of romantic love. ‘Uyare’ exposes the holes and shows that this is nothing but toxic masculinity which carries a criminal intent and there is nothing about it to be glorified.
Post-superstar era
“Malayalam cinema has entered a ‘post-superstar era,” says Dr CS Venkiteswaran, an acclaimed film critic.
According to him, Malayalam cinema has crossed the threshold of star-anchored films which move only on the superhuman qualities of the super-masculine hero.
“Over the last decade, Malayalam cinema has witnessed a shift in this pattern. There are no heroes, but only people, men and women. These men are weak and ordinary, have no superhuman qualities and are incapable of solving all the issues by themselves. They appear to be weak and confused and are unable to control the women,” he says.
“This is not only a post-superstar scenario but also ‘the post WCC phenomenon as well.” He refers to the formation of the collective ‘Women in Cinema’ which was a result of the abduction and sexual assault of a leading actress, and the subsequent lack of strong action by important forums and authorities.
According to Venkiteswaran, WCC played a key role in bringing changes in Malayalam cinema, not only structural but thematic as well.
“Finally, feminism has arrived in Malayalam cinema, I presume,” says Rima Leena Rajan aka Rima Kallinkal, producer, actor and one of the founders of Women in Cinema Collective.
“Now women’s voices are heard, misogyny is challenged and aggressive masculinity is shattered,” says Rima. According to her, this is only a beginning and there is a long way to go.
“Even superstars are amenable to this change,” says Anjali Menon, director and an active member of WCC.
She refers to ‘Unda’ (The Bullet) a 2019 film, starring Mammootty, who is considered a megastar in Malayalam cinema, in the role of a police officer who has been sent to Chhattisgarh’s Maoist-infested Bastar region for election duty with a team of cops. The film portrays him as a normal police officer who is an ordinary man, scared of working in a conflict area. He trembles with fear and becomes inactive when Maoists attack the police camp. This was totally against the usual superhero roles Mammooty used to play wherein he beats up all villains and saves his people.
“The castration has happened in Malayalam Cinema,” says CS Venkiteswaran referring to the 2012 thriller 22 Female Kottayam. Tessa (Rima Kallinkal), a nurse aspiring to go abroad, is cheated by her lover Cyril (Fahad Fazil) and raped by his friend. Tessa then takes revenge on him and surgically castrates him.
Venkiteswaran argues that the castration actually happened to Malayalam cinema with 22FK, a film made by Ashiq Abu, Rima’s life partner.
Other critics opine that Malayalam cinema is in the process of getting liberated from the burden of stardom. The one and only superhero who is capable of doing anything, the fearless macho male with muscles and a twirled moustache seems to have given way to the ordinary men.