Ariyippu aka Declaration [dir. Mahesh Narayanan]

The opening scenes of Ariyippu (Declaration) convey both its setting and its rhythm. Inside a factory for making surgical gloves, the machinery rattles and hums as a row of mannequin hands, naked or gloved, rotate while ferried on a conveyor. Sometimes they seem to point and sometimes they seem to be held out in desperate supplication. Maker Mahesh Narayanan is primarily an editor - one of the best in  modern Malayalam cinema - and in an un-showy way, the splicing of the visuals of this grim industrial reality generates a kind of beauty, a kind of poetry.

Narayanan's C U Soon (2020) was shot during the Covid-19 lockdown situation in India. Ariyippu went into production towards the end of 2021 after the lockdown was withdrawn, but the narrative is set in a time when the country was still under active curfew. Both the structure and the visual aesthetic of the film draw from this traumatic situation. Malayali couple Hareesh (Kunchako Boban) and Reshmi (Divya Prabha) work at the glove-making unit situated in Noida, Uttar Pradesh. In a time when most other businesses are shuttered, this plant struggles to meet demand. The working hours are hard and long, and the factory has strict rules: Reshmi is ticked off for wearing a (wedding) ring in the glove testing department, while Hareesh must deal with an increased burden of loading goods amidst a worker shortage. Our couple are far from home and, apart from the companionship of some fellow migrant workers, isolated in a cultural milieu that is both foreign and apathetic to their needs. The lockdown protocol of masks and social distancing only adds to their alienation.

They are looking to make the jump to another country where their skillset can earn them a better living. It is in this regard that at the beginning of the film Hareesh films footage of Reshmi working at her station. This is of course forbidden in the rules; employees are not normally permitted even to carry phones onto the floor. With a promise to not leak it elsewhere, he hands the footage to the agent paid to arrange for their migration and employment abroad. Naturally, it does leak, finding its way into the workforce Whatsapp group. Worse, it is appended with footage of a woman in face mask performing a sexual service in the premises.

The resulting scandal produces different reactions in the couple. A distraught Reshmi wants to quit and head homewards to Kerala. Hareesh insists on taking the matter to the police. But there again, it is Reshmi who must bear the brunt of an investigation that only embarrasses her further. In the meanwhile, Hareesh starts to have his doubts about the masked woman. Could it be Reshmi? There is also a pivotal sub-plot concerning malpractice and violation of standards in the company, and both of them get caught up in this by different routes.

The primary focus of Ariyippu is in the relationship of the lead couple. When Hareesh insists on proving Reshmi's innocence in the MMS scandal through a police investigation, he initially appears a loyal husband  striving to restore his wife's honor, while she is full of trepidation. But later we see Hareesh closely examining the added footage, trying to make out if the woman is Reshmi or someone else. His 'bravery' in pursuing the investigation can then be interpreted as not purely an expression of his  trust in his wife but of a male ego bruised by the possibility of his wife straying. This is underlined in the scene where he forces himself upon Reshmi in their cramped bedroom even as a friend staying over to comfort her is sleeping beside. His temper issues, signaled early in the film when he has an altercation with a driver that refuses to help with the loading, lead to bigger problems afterwards.

Reshmi's actions can be similarly re-evaluated. She is scared and unwilling to file a complaint because she knows the process will only add to her hurt and humiliation without really giving her justice. She is proven right, when after sending her for a medical exam (What for, exactly? She is a married woman and the MMS shows a consensual act), the police officer tells them to reach an 'understanding' with the agent regarding the leaked footage. Later, her own husband questions her movements for that day. It is when the actual mystery of the footage is revealed that she decides 'Enough is Enough', and stands up backs against wall to lodge her protest against the systemic patriarchal and class-based abuse that is abetted by even the so-called decent men in the name of maintaining respectability and status quo. The tone is not shrill here. Reshmi does not become a torch-bearing avenger, and there is no raucous showdown. But in following the dictates of her own mind, she stands up for herself and for the other women destroyed or suppressed by that toxic hierarchy.

In this unvarnished yet sensitive slice of life movie experience, I am reminded of the films of Ivan Ayr (Soni, Meel Patthar). Narayanan with his creative collaborators - DoP Sanu John Varghese, co-editor Rahul Radhakrishnan, background score composer Sushin Shyam - gives a unified vision wholly in service of the story and characters. Even the language of the film, a fluid mixture of Malayalam, Hindi and Tamil - is a wonderful reflection of its cosmopolitan setting. As Hareesh, Kunchako Boban (who also co-produced) gives another performance that heralds him as the actor to watch for. In another era, he might have been content to get by on innate charm, but his filmography of the last few years shows someone clearly willing to take creative risks. Hareesh is a gray-shaded character, and neither the writing nor Boban's performance try to sugar-coat it in any way. Divya Prabha, whom I have only seen before in Malik, brilliantly owns Reshmi's character. You can feel her trepidation and preference to conform, gradually give way to anger when her husband suspects her of infidelity and later white-hot fury when she realizes how the entire ecosystem colludes to suppress the voice of victims, just to keep the wheels moving and to retain the prestige of the privileged. Even in the absence of exaggerated verbal fireworks, the audience can empathize with her indignation, which is also the film's anger.