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 Ariyippu went into production towards the end of 2021 after the lockdown was withdrawn, but the narrative is set in a time when the country was still under active curfew.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.

Gamak Ghar aka Village Home [dir. Achal Mishra]

Although scripted and acted, Achal Mishra's directorial debut Gamak Ghar (GG) aka Village Home is closer to an anthropological documentary than a fiction feature. The titular house located in rural Bihar is home to a large extended family we first meet in the year 1998. In this segment, presented in a 4:3 frame, we see the joint family getting together for a festive occasion in the summer (a baby's naming ceremony). The children revel in their outdoorsy games, men sit at cards or run errands, while the ladies share in the domestic activities. In their casual conversations (in the Maithili tongue) and interactions, we sense an ease that comes with familiarity and affection.

Cut to around a decade later (2010), the screen space expands to 16:9. It is autumn and the house is a little emptier now. The family patriarch is long gone, and several of the second generation, both in this house and from around the neighborhood, are settled in other places. Even the mother is convinced to shuttle between her children's families than manage the village home by herself. The grandkids are glued to their electronic gadgets, and prefer Maggi to the more rustic snacks. Conversations are less given to humor or frivolity, and small disputes arise. But there is still an attachment, at least with the adults, to their original home. They look with fondness (and some regret) at photographic or written records and reminiscence about the past.

Skip approximately another decade to 2019 with an even wider frame of 2.35:1. In a wintry haze, the house lies decrepit and forgotten, save for a wizened caretaker. It appears that the family no longer convenes here. Like some aged relative abandoned in a pilgrimage location or a once loved dog left behind while shifting, it waits forlorn for signs of its family's return. There is a moment of redemption towards the end when we see it undergoing renovation with the purpose of returning it to its former glories. But who knows what it will all come to?

On paper, GG sounds like a dry preachy exercise about the gradual erosion of family values in the modern age. But the very understated manner in which Mishra (as writer, editor, producer and director) has executed his script, it comes across as very real. The conversations are natural conversations, not purposeful dialog - on several occasions the maker chooses not to display subtitles because what is actually said is not important. While always perfectly framed, the camera sits non-ostentatiously, like an eavesdropper. You could be fooled into thinking this was a documentary put together from actual footage capturing the interactions of a real family.

Featuring several long takes with a stationary camera, GG is not the most kinetic of films. But once you align with its rhythms, it is a wonderful time capsule and a warm study of a universal social structure defined within a specific cultural milieu. I was wholly engrossed.

Thampu [dir. G Aravindan]

The only films I'd previously seen of Malayalam auteur Govindan Aravindan are Chidambaram (repeatedly shown on  the national channel Doordarshan in the 80's) and Oridathu. From these, it seemed to me that Aravindan as film-maker was most interested in the cinéma vérité element - of documenting, and in the process looking at the inner stories of the ignored sections of society. Even his mythology inspired feature Kanchana Seetha was known for a very grounded treatment. Aravindan was, along with Mrinal Sen and Shyam Benegal one of the prime figures of the Indian New Wave film movement. His films are definitely of the sort which some people admiringly, and others dismissively, regard as "award-winning".

Thampu (1978), an early feature in his career, is heavily concerned with the documentary element. The film primarily observes the goings-on in a traveling circus that sets up in a small town. We become privy to the behind-the-scenes of their routines and get hints of their personal lives: the painstaking rehearsals, the last-minute preparations, the wordless friendships, the drunken soirees. There is a beautiful synchrony when an old clown putting on his make-up is juxtaposed with the primping up of the trained monkey. Another kind of resonance is achieved when the lure of the circus must compete against the attractions of the town's temple festival with its fireworks and drumbeats (ironically, the circus manager - played by Malayalam arthouse favorite Bharat Gopi - was previously steered into giving a donation for the festival).

There appears a larger "life is a circus" motif when the film looks at the life of the local industrialist and his family. Our man divides his life between furthering his business and guzzling drinks with friends while longingly reminiscing about his time in Malaysia and complaining about "this accursed country". His traditional wife sits ignored in the inner room, while his estranged son (a rather hip-looking Nedumudi Venu) spends time imbibing Indian classical from a local musician. I was not too taken with this facet of the film. It moves away from the circus milieu without being very interesting in itself.

Nedumudi Venu

Thampu has all the hallmarks of the Indian parallel cinema style. It severely eschews the exaggerations and embellishments of mainstream films. The bulk of the casting is composed of non-professionals (including actual members of the Great Chitra Circus, which is featured here). Shaji Karun's B&W photography is very naturalistic, not afraid to embrace darkness - In film restoration activist Shivendra Singh Dungarpur's discussions with him, Shaji Karun revealed that Aravindan forbade him to use additional lights for the night scenes. The sound design is digetic, including all the music and songs heard in the film. Editors Rameshan and Selvanathan give a lot of time to capturing the rhythm and atmosphere of his settings, and this is where the film shines. Given the episodic non-dramatic nature, there is no elaborate climax or lead-out; when the circus packs it in (including a lovely night-time shot of the tent being taken down) and leaves for another place, the film wraps up as well.

Interest in Thampu was revived after its restoration and screening at the 2022 Cannes film festival in the Classics section. Yesterday, I bunked office, and went for the screening of the restored Thampu at Regal cinema as part of the Film Heritage workshop on restoration. Although I had been suggested to come a half-hour before the scheduled time as there would be a queue and first-come-first-served, I was skeptical about a non-Hindi non-Satyajit Ray vintage Indian film filling the large-size auditorium and I was right in there being no difficulty over finding a good seat (Apparently, In the Mood for Love screened the previous night had been a packed affair).

Lucky for me, Shivendra Singh was also present for the screening. I got my Celluloid Man DVD signed by him and chatted a little about that film and Czechmate, his mega-documentary on Czech New Wave cinema maestro Jiří Menzel.

Regal Cinema in Colaba, Mumbai

With regards to the restoration, one thing to keep in mind is that Thampu was a low-budget arthouse film shot with natural light, and the restoration was sourced from a dupe negative. So the visuals are not ultra-crisp. There is softness and the blacks can appear somewhat diffuse (I can't say if the hall projection limitations had anything to contribute to this). But the most striking benefit is in how absolutely stable the image is. There is no flickering, warping or prominent scratches. The gray-scale is not exceptional, but it is quite solid all the same; I imagine some of the night scenes are looking the best they did since the original release. Similarly, the sound is not absolutely pristine (there is a floor hum and some clipping), but it still sounds very lively when called for, especially in the scenes of the temple festival. Aravindan paid a lot of attention to developing a credible audio atmosphere to complement the scenes and the restoration does the best possible justice to his vision.

Thampu would not come in a favorite movies list for me, but it is an important contribution to the Indian arthouse and this restoration makes it doubly worthwhile for cinephiles to try and catch this when they can. For those interested, the restored version is currently available on Youtube here:

Kaaka Muttai aka Crow's Egg [dir. Manikandan]

Writer-director-DOP Manikandan's debut feature in Tamil mixes the grittiness of De Sica inspired neo-realism with the feel-good factor necessary for any film aiming for an audience bigger than the art-house crowd. Like most efforts in this category, it's not as fine-edged as it should be, and at nearly 2 hours runs, or rather trots gently a good deal longer than it should, but it has some solid charm as an offbeat entertainer.

One of the interesting elements in this film is how most major characters are not given an official name - they either have a nickname or an appellation that answers to their role in the film. Our 'heroes' are two kids (masters Ramesh and Vignesh) that call themselves Periya (big) Kaaka Muttai and Chinna (small) Kaaka Muttai. Their mother and grandma are only referred to as such. One of their close friends is an adult railway employee nicknamed Pazharasam (banana juice/soup? The subtitles translate it as fruit juice).

As critic Baradwaj Rangan puts it in his effusive and detailed review, the wheels on which the film turns is desire and aspiration. The kids live in an urban slum and dream of the consumer goods they can't afford - their aspiration is given the shape of pizza, which they have only seen in advertisements. But even when they scrimp and save for the money to buy it, no outlet will deliver to their locality, and they are rudely turned back from the restaurant for not coming from the expected strata of clientele. Their mother (Ishwarya Rajesh exuding a wonderful every-woman glow in her deglamorized avatar) aspires to get her imprisoned husband home, trudging from fee-grabbing lawyer to corrupt politician. There's a refreshing non-stereotype mother-in-law who sympathizes with the plight of her son's wife and in her ingenious way tries to assuage her grandsons' desire for pizza by dishing out a home-made version of it. The movie is full of little touches which delineate the character of these and other parts in the film with gentle observation.

The social critique is managed without excess heavy-handedness, and the metaphors don't get too cringing - for instance, the kid's playground (and the crow's nest bearing tree it contains) is torn down for a development complex which is likely to house the sort of building the pizza place is situated in, but the script doesn't box your ears with the irony. The humor arises organically from the situations. The look of the film is authentic, the actors merge into their roles, there is some striking juxtaposition of visuals and sound. Oh, and there are no item breaks. The only problem is that the script is a little too episodic and not reined in tightly enough, which leads to loose elements and contrived moments in the narrative. I certainly do not grudge the film its happy ending, but it could have been better written, instead of seeming like the writer had run out of ideas.

So, yes, flaws and all, but this is a charming film that people should certainly give a look at, and not just Tamil people (At least in Mumbai multiplex screens, English subtitles are provided).

Garm Hava aka Scorching Wind [dir. MS Sathyu]

This weekend, I saw at the cinema a restored version of MS Sathyu's classic Garm Hava. The film looks at the plight of middle-class Muslims in the wake of partition from the perspective of a single family running a small scale factory in Agra. The patriarch (veteran Balraj Sahni, in arguably his most memorable role) believes in India as his home country and dismisses petitions by his friends and family to shift to Pakistan, but finds himself increasingly isolated and marginalized by social and financial institutions. Without going all melodramatic, the film underlines the frustrations of a class of Indians that finds secularism a concept that exists more on paper than in reality. In a very effective move, the film never shows the faces of non-Muslim characters that refuse to extend rightful aid (bank managers refuse loans citing the example of Muslims that run off to Pakistan after taking loans, landlords don't rent to Muslims making non-vegetarianism an issue), usually expressing helplessness due to the current social climate - these could be anybody, and giving them a face would only demonize the individual, instead of criticizing the social environment that asked for such callous behavior of its citizens.

Sathyu's film is not just dry social message, it carries a personal edge too, with well-etched characterizations and emotional depth for the different family members. A sharp sense of bleak humor and a screenplay that deftly cuts between scenes to show irony makes the film interesting to sit through its entire 146min runtime. More evident now than during its screenings on television, the film also has a fine visual touch, with shots at various well-known Agra monuments that eschew the conventional postcard angles to give a more intimate feel to the scenes performed there.

The restoration for large parts looks pleasingly strong. Sequences shot at the Fatehpur Sikri and Taj Mahal especially are breathtaking and have a palpable veneer compared to previous screenings on TV. The first half still has some stretches where the film has a sickly green pallor of print damage. Perhaps these were issues that were beyond repair or could not be resolved without prohibhitively expensive restoration. Sound is generally clear although some sections appear a little tinny, I suspect these are mostly limitations of the source recording and existing technology for a low-budget film.

After being held up by the censors for 8 months, Garm Hava was released in '74 to high critical and public acclaim. Now this generation has a chance to see one of the classics of Hindi cinema that still holds good. Take that chance or you will be the poorer.

Mahanagar aka The Big City [dir. Satyajit Ray]

It's a little sad that Satyajit Ray has a reputation as an arthouse film-maker, which to most Indians signifies a dry, intellectual exercise, difficult to digest or pretentious, because IMO more than anything else, his main interest has been in telling interesting stories in an interesting and clear manner. With a couple of songs and perhaps a dollop of slapstick, his film Mahanagar could easily sit amongst the popular films of Basu Chatterjee or Hrishikesh Mukherjee, and should definitely be checked out by the people who like those films.

The story is about how a conservative middle-class family in Calcutta is affected when financial circumstances require that the wife should also take up a job. The film looks at it from two aspects:
1) The impact on the other family members - the loving but traditional husband, his orthodox parents, the young child (They all have reservation to some extent, and the only unequivocal supporter is the husband's kid sister, who sees it as a projection of her own ambitions)
2) The changes in the woman herself - how she grows from a shy house-bound wife to a more confident worldly-wise person.
Without any arty pretensions, but with the sharpness of observation and empathy towards the characters which are his strongest assets, Ray paints a very tangible portrait of this little personal revolution in the traditional family. Of course he is here immensely aided by the marvelous chemistry between the gorgeous Madhabi Mukherjee and Anil Chatterjee - their husband-wife relationship is a very credible and heartwarming picture of romance and friendship, mischief and responsibility. While some reality-obsessed curmudgeons may find the film's end unduly optimistic, it is a very well-placed happy ending, representing the never-say-die spirit of hope over adversity that keeps humanity alive. Ray's touch is very much evident in the screenplay and the visuals - many times, more is conveyed than said, with the use of beautiful visual metaphor or plain restraint, allowing the sensibility of the audience to fill in the gap. For this film he also composed the score, which is lovely and worth hearing on its own. All in all, highly recommended, and screw the snobs who regard it as a "minor film".

My recent watch of this film was on Criterion's blu-ray. Video-wise this is another amazing restoration (taking a 2K scan of the original negative) from RD Bansal / Pixion (Chennai). Kudos to them for making such a brilliant effort when so many classic Indian films, including some of the biggest box office blockbusters, look like complete shit on home video. Sometimes, the brightness levels seem very high, although there are no blown whites; it might have something to do with the intended look or the shooting conditions. The encode itself is excellent to mine eye, with no apparent digital artefacts. The mono sound is clear and robust and the music comes across quite nicely. I have not seen Kapurush, the short feature presented as an extra on this disc, but the other stuff is quite nice - a critic's video essay talking about the film, Madhabi Mukherjee reflecting on her experience, a Films Division short by BD Garga on Satyajit ray, which briefly looks at the shooting of Mahanagar.