Chapters

After the success of Rajesh Pillai’s Traffic, there have been a host of movies that have tried to replicate the success of multiple narratives but very few have been able to strike a proper balance, an exception like Ee Adutha Kaalathu notwithstanding. So, it is with discernible apprehension that I approached debutante director Sunil Ibrahim’s Chapters only to be surprised by a taut well-structured movie that holds your attention.

The film is structured in the form of four chapters telling different stories but interlinked through a few characters. The narrative is spread over a period of two days and a night when these multiple characters cross each other’s paths, in seemingly unrelated ways. While these are stories that intersect at different points in the movie, it does not entirely follow the standard patterns of hyperlink cinema like going back and forth in time or jumping between the beginning and end. To a certain extent, there is a linear progression in the story, so it is devoid of many standard gimmicks (or techniques whichever way you see them) that you see in these movies.

The first chapter talks about four unemployed friends, Krishna Kumar (Nivin Pauly), Anwar (Hemanth Menon), Joby (Vijeesh) and Kannan (Dhananjay), who are struggling to get a decent break in life. There is anxiety in Krishna Kumar’s family where the son is unemployed, daughter is unmarried and the father (Sadiq) is a Gulf-returnee who has not been able to save enough with his overseas job. None of the friends are in a position to help and are just as desperate. Frustration is in the air and quick money is the need.

Finally, they arrive at an exotic plan to make money for Krishna Kumar’s sister’s wedding and it goes along smoothly till the very end when the plan goes all awry. It is an air tight plan; everything is checked and finalized but the man who holds the key to its execution, Chandrappan (Pattambi Manikandan) disappears at the critical moment leaving them high and dry. The promised dream evaporates in thin air and there are left holding only lost aspirations that count for nothing and as if that was not good enough, it ends in an O Henry-like finale which defeats the entire purpose of the plan. It must have been a better idea if the group were hunting for something less exotic than a Naga-Manikyam to make the entire search more believable. The very mention of such a stone and it being located so easily makes you believe that there is more to it than meets the eye.

Chapter Two shifts to Sethu (Sreenivasan), an employee at a travel agency, who is waiting for the last bus to town. Clearly, not in the best of spirits, he is joined by an old lady (KPAC Lalitha) and they strike up a conversation during the journey. Both are beseeched besieged (as pointed out by Anu in the comments) by parental woes – she reveals that she is headed to the town to meet her son who is in jail while he is carrying cash to go to the hospital, where his son awaits a surgery.

There is a palpable sense of suspicion in their minds and you are not entirely sure as to whether they are both telling the truth. Neither seems entirely convincing and the camera and quiet BGM adds to the suspicion. Sethu’s face darkens when he sees a set of cops enter the bus but he meekly explains it as a fear of them questioning about his money. Along with the late night crowd, there are also a couple of mysterious characters whose body language suggests that there is something amiss. This is the most ambiguous section in the movie and it plays on in our mind with our attention wavering on the various characters who board the bus. The quieter narrative also keeps you wondering if there is something that will spring into the frame from somewhere.

Chapter Three focuses on six youngsters – Arun (Vineeth Kumar), Vinod (Shine), Kaanu (Aju Varghese), Jincy (Riya Saira), Shyam (Rejith Menon) and Priya (Gauthami Nair). They are headed to a hill station to register the marriage of Shyam and Priya, who have eloped. Vinod is Arun’s friend and is rechristened by Arun as Choonda and introduced to the group as a criminal in parole. His looks and criminal past is meant to ensure that the plan goes smoothly without any hindrance.

Choonda’s rugged and uncouth looks ensures that he plays his part well in taking care of the obstacles that they face during the journey. In the midst of all the reverie surrounding the trip, they take a break to catch fresh air, only to return and find a body in the car. In the ensuing melee surrounding the attempts to dispose the body, the group is separated.

In the fourth and final chapter, we see an anxious Annie (Lena) by her son’s bedside in the hospital awaiting her husband’s (Sreenivasan) arrival. Their marriage is an inter-religious one and the couple is struggling with his meager income and no family support, while trying to handle their son’s illness. She is surprised when he arrives with the money needed for the surgery but convinces her husband that the money that he has brought is best returned.

As the final chapter comes to a close, the truth is revealed. Nothing very dramatic has happened and things, to an extent, return to a sense of status quo as at the beginning of the movie. But in the interim two hours, their lives have all changed profoundly in some way or the other. Families have re-united and friendship remains intact while a couple starts a new journey.

Multiple narratives face the challenge of dealing with a large number of characters across myriad locations and these need to be connected some way or the other. Sometimes, the stories are far too many to give it a proper coherent workable structure, like Lijin Jose’s Friday. Or the script is unable to do justice to a stellar star cast and gets bogged down by its needs like in Salam Bappu’s Red Wine.

‘Chapters’ succeeds primarily because three stories (not four) come together seamlessly, without any forced attempts to join them. The structure of the plot is interesting – chapters 1 and 3 are deeply intertwined at one end and 2 and 4 at the other end. These two main plots are intermittently linked by a couple of characters and small devices in the plot – like when Jincy says that she’s booked rooms for the trip, a little later Sethu mentions four rooms being booked. Or KPAC walks out of the bus and hands over a bagful of money to the people in the same car that had come to meet the boys in the first chapter.

It may be a multi-linear narrative but each of the chapters can stand independently except to a certain extent the last one which primarily serves to join the dots. While all the principal characters are actively involved in the drama, KPAC’s character who has a pivotal role in the second story stands out as an odd presence as she does not figure in the overall scheme of things. There are also a couple of scenes which do not totally jell in the script like when there is an apparent attempt to mislead the audience in thinking that the parents are embarrassed by their son’s actions at the end of the first story or when the group of youngsters get into a tussle with another group and Choonda comes to the rescue, as if to explicitly explain to us why he was needed in the story.

While there is no over-riding theme that connects the stories, there is an underlying presence of parental trepidation that comes across in all the stories. A father who hopes that his son will take up responsibilities in life, a mother who yearns to meet her son and give him a life, parental shock at seeing one of their children eloping quietly and another frantically trying to raise money for their son’s treatment (after in turn marrying against parental wishes).

What stands out other than the obvious screenplay of Sunil Ibrahim that serves to link these four episodes is the music by Mejo Joseph. It has a quiet moving effect and brings a certain leisurely pace to the screen, especially in the second story featuring Sethu and the old lady. The 2 songs could have been avoided and add no value to the movie, though.

It is nice to see a set of young men and women come together and put up such a convincing show. This isn’t restricted to the acting department alone and the entire conceptualization was brought about by a young team. Chapters has been produced by Shafeer Sait in conjunction with CampusOaks which is an entertainment company, driven by students of the 1995 batch of NSS Engineering College, Palakkad. Watch out for Sunil Ibrahim and Campus Oaks’ ventures in future – there is another talent in the horizon….

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez: http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2013/05/chapters-movie-review/

Mumbai Police

A crime is committed; you have identified the culprit and are about to reveal the mystery and then boom! There’s an accident and everything is wiped out of your memory and you have to start on a fresh slate, with your RAM totally clean and no one else aware of your condition, except for a couple of people. You see faces and are told who they are but you have no idea what these people mean to you – the culprit is probably sitting next to you but you haven’t the foggiest notion about it. People are out to kill you and you realize that you aren't the most popular guy around but you are powerless. Antony Moses has to figure out why, what and how it happened and no, this isn't based on the Bourne series!

The basic premise of Rosshan Andrrews’ Mumbai Police isn't entirely novel and amnesia is an age-old trick in the book of filmmakers but you’d have to admit that the movie is absolutely gripping and keeps you glued to your seat for a greater part of the journey. Yes, social networks have all focused on the movie’s climax and created polarized opinions on the movie, based on that. But such a line of thinking does no justice to a movie that has so much going right for it and I dare say, it is arguably one of the most satisfying police dramas that I have seen in Malayalam.

Mumbai Police has nothing to with the movie per se; it is just a name that the media uses to refer to three policemen – Antony, Aaryan and Farhan – who had at some point of time in their past worked in the Mumbai police force and are now stationed in Ernakulam. It is a bond of friendship that ties the three men – two of them are incidentally brothers-in-law but this is rarely spoken about and all relationships are just kept at the surface throughout the movie.

ACP Antony Moses (Prithiviraj) is entrusted the task of tracking down the high-profile murder of his close friend ACP Aaryan Jacob John (Jayasurya). Aaryan is shot dead in a felicitation ceremony and there is high pressure on the cops to get through to the bottom of the case. Antony is about to inform Police Commissioner Farhan Aman (Rahman) about the killer but at that critical moment, he meets with an accident and the case reaches a dead-end. Farhan insists that the memory loss be kept a secret and asks Antony to continue since he had already cracked the case and so the investigation starts all over again…

There are awkward moments that Antony faces as he slowly confronts the truth of his past. As the story moves in flashbacks intermittently, we realize that Antony is not exactly a man of scruples and is capable of extreme violence. He is nicknamed ‘Rascal’ Moses by the media but he’s a man who can produce results – a cop who can get things done, albeit ignoring the ethical dimensions of the job. He may be a rascal but is willing to give his friend the credit of an encounter (the thought did strike me fleetingly towards the end if this was a genuine gesture or a need to lie low to avoid being probed by the media, keeping the climax in mind).

The furious dare-devil cop Antony Moses A is in contrast with the brooding and silent Antony Moses B – he isn't even very sure which of this is his real self and so his emotions are all mangled up. In his own words, he is a man with no past or future and has to unravel the case to understand his true existence. The Dirty Cop turns over a Good Cop but it’s a transformation that he is unsure of and only when he identifies the killer of Aaryan, he is able to get a clearer picture of the past. (On a different note, if a memory loss can actually change the character of a man, it is interesting to see how one’s actions and deeds are driven by what one experiences in life and not where one is born into).

There are scenes that stand out in the narrative that moves back and forth between his two personalities. Take for instance, Antony meeting his sister in a restaurant where she wants to discuss about her husband. He’s partly shaken, unable to relate to her emotions and even when she touches his hand, he takes it back not knowing how to react. Yes, the world says that she’s his sister but is she really his sister? Take the scene when a man enters his cabin and invites him to his daughter’s invitation – there is awkwardness in their interaction and only later, he realizes that the stranger was the SP! The action sequences are well-orchestrated and Antony surprises himself when he fights off his attackers in the early scenes – his memory has been blanked out but not his inner police instincts.

A typical cop movie comes laced with a lot of bravado in its dialogues, political interference, corrupt cops and so many other lazy stereotypes but Mumbai Police avoids all these cliches. The cops even resort to hiring the services of local port workers in order to defend themselves against an expectant mob of unruly mob of navy fellas!

The clash between the police and the navy is a small but interesting segment in the movie; shows how the ego-clashes between Govt security agencies make them enemies of each other. The scene where senior assistant sub-inspector Sudhakaran (Kunjan) explains as to why he was drunk when on duty, after years of unblemished service is a rare out of place theatrical scene in an otherwise taut drama that doesn't waste screen space.

The thrills of the first half makes way to a more sober 2^nd half, as Antony finally sets out to crack the puzzle in a way that defines his new personality. It is debatable if in a case with intense media scrutiny, Farhan can wait for Antony to return and take the gamble to put him on the task again, considering the situation he is in. Nevertheless, there is a greater eye to detail here, including a interesting perspective of a sharp shooter which  brings Antony closer to the killer.

Prithviraj stands out in an outstanding performance as Antony Moses A and B – as he transforms himself from a fiery cop to a subdued one. From an aggressive gait, he develops a less assertive walk and finds himself unable to comprehend his emotions with the situation around him. The new man is willing to pay for his cigarette, greet people with a smile and exchange his alcohol with coffee – a change that Prithvi incorporates easily, but haltingly.

It is courageous for him to take up a role that any mainstream actor in Kerala would hesitate to do (there were rumours earlier that Mammootty would do this role but it’s really hard to imagine that). The past one year has seen him in different kinds of roles in Molly Aunty Rocks, Ayalum Njanum Thammil, Celluloid and now this and still we have wannabe critics who have a problem with him, for the simple reason that he questions the superstars!

Jayasurya is at ease in a more light-hearted role as a reluctant cop Aaryan, whose friends are his biggest asset in life. The ever youthful Rahman (dubbed by Shammi Thilakan) supports ably and needs to be utilized more by film-makers. Backed by Gopi Sundar's excellent BGM (except at a couple of places like a bike chase) and Diwakar's intense, brooding lens, Mumbai Police is a must watch.

And finally, coming to the most-talked about climax of the film that forms the backbone of the story and bares it all. It isn't easy to review Mumbai Police without talking about the climax and also avoiding any spoilers. Yes, it shocks and it is arguable whether or not the director is able to pull it off convincingly. The biggest stumbling block in the finale is the manner in which one of the individuals in question is depicted in a wimpish stereotypical manner that ensures that the audience does not care for the character.

Secondly, does the director seek to explain the killer’s Alpha-male tendencies exhibited by giving him such an attribute or is it only Aaryan who interprets his behavior in that manner? It appears disturbing that the director insinuates that the killer’s behaviour is largely driven by this and makes it a guilty secret. Wish they had pepped up this segment a bit more and not reduced it this kind of stereotyping. Is the reason for the crime entirely reasonable? That’s a tough call to make – there does seem to be a justification for the killing , if you put yourself in his shoes and the impact of the expose but then would Aaryan ever reveal such a secret? It looks unlikely and so the motive for the killing looks weak, to that extent. But then truth is stranger than fiction in many ways, it is upto us whether we can accept it or not.

After an abysmally expensive turkey called Casanovva, the trio of Bobby-Sanjay and Rosshan Andrrews definitely restore their lost credibility with an intense drama like Mumbai Police. It isn't the easiest of movies to make and comments on social networks tell you how difficult it is easy for people to digest when movies take the road not taken and shake the ground of morality that we have managed to keep in balance.

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez - http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2013/05/mumbai-police/

Molly Aunty Rocks

Benjamin Franklin had once said famously - In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes. What does an ordinary man or woman do when faced with the wrath of the Income Tax Department that comes out to hound you? As somebody who was puzzlingly served an IT notice a year back, I can relate to the scare that Income Tax can create in one’s life.

Molly Mammen (Revathy) is an unlikely protagonist – a slightly elderly woman settled in US with her family, who comes back after a long leave to continue working in her small little job in a public sector bank in Nemmara in Palakkad (presumably only for the pension). She is a committed hardworking employee who can brook no nonsense and is willing to fight her way out of any situation, if she believes she is right about it. She manages to sell her husband’s ancestral property, take a voluntary retirement from her job and is about return to her family in the US when she runs into the iron hands of the Income Tax department and the battle begins to prove her innocence!

You first see Molly as she comes late for a religious family function and bangs her car onto the priest’s scooter, knocking it down (a symbolic rejection of conventions?). Family gossip marks her out as being unwelcome to the family and her sleeveless dress does not help matters. As the daughter of a Communist leader, rebellion is in her genes and she isn't someone who can be knocked around that easily. She is liberal-minded but fairly adamant and you’d have to admit that diplomacy is not her forte.

Molly isn't a firebrand woman out to change the world making fiery speeches or a staunch feminist but somebody who is willing to make the best of her situation and stand up for what she thinks is right. As her husband Benny (Lalu Alex) says, there is a Molly in all our families, in some form of the other who makes everyone around her insecure. There is no point in being upset about it and one has to adjust to the way she is.

As she struggles with many of her small-time problems in life, it acts as a mirror to many of the issues that we face in day-to-day life. How many of us have struggled in government offices waiting for hours, without any help at all. Even the slightest of help comes with a suggestion of short-cuts that we are forced to accept because there is no way out of the mess. Reminds me of my trip to the IT dept office last year where we spent more than a couple of hours just waiting for the man who sent us the notices to turn up but no one ever bothered to ask what we wanted when we landed in a placid Govt office.

Molly’s struggles are not always driven out of her conviction but also due to the simple necessity of doing things independently when alone. She is married to a large family headed by her matriarch mother-in-law KPAC Lalitha but finds no support when in trouble, except from her mother-in-law and a benign neighbour. It doesn't help that she has brought no dowry after her marriage and is an independent lady who has come down all the way from the US of A to this small lazy town, where her outgoing nature is a source of genuine bewilderment. Like Molly, haven't many of us Non-Residential Keralites seen our relatives think that we have minted money outside and that we are stingy for not spending money - the effort and toil just does not show!

As a single woman who tries to live independently in a small town in Kerala, she struggles with house owners, head load workers, nosey people, co-employees who are happy to keep away from work at the slightest of pretexts and of course, the ever roving eye of men who are keen to ‘help’ her whenever there is an opportunity. It isn't a world that Molly is unaware of having brought up there; she, however, does not go about bad mouthing the place and unlike many others, she is not willing to simple live with her problems.  

The women around her are more or less satisfied with the kind of lives that they live, living in a frog-in-the-wall kind of existence and being happy about it. Her neighbour Usha (Lakshmi Priya) lives a contended life of a teacher and is more obsessed with the progress of her TV serials than the world around her; she leaves it to her husband, Ravi (Krishna Kumar) the dentist, to handle things outside her house. Molly’s mother-in-law may be her only support in the family when in Kerala but there is a generation gap that cannot be bridged. Yes, they get along well and enjoy a rare sense of camaraderie but it happens with a sense of acceptance that exists between their worlds – a world where cooking and taking care of the house is a woman’s job and a world where women can stand up on their own and take the battle to men.

There is a subtle social commentary on the world around her in the small town in the form of bandhs, busy government offices and names that tell us a lot of the times we live in. New Generation lower caste names like Fleming Raj (with mother as Mulla Devi) which try to move away from the roots to a starry-eyed auto rickshaw driver with cine ambitions going by the name Gunesh Kuttan and an auditor called Paraman who is busier with making arrangements for the local festival than providing tax advice.

It is a mark of the changing times where the young priest Father Joby Matthews (Sharath) is a divorcee and is called in to settle a tax dispute between his parishioners! When Molly suffers a small fall on the road, the onlookers are keener to capture the scene with their mobiles than actually give her a helping hand. The bank manager is impressed by her abilities at work and is more than willing to be persuaded that the American system is wonderful; in an absolutely hilarious moment when she is down with an accident, he even wishes her a Happy Rest in Peace!

It is courageous of Ranjith to cast a young Prithviraj with a much-older Revathy as the central protagonists of this drama. Yes, it is evident that the plot demands such a casting but how many directors would be willing to take such a (perceived) risk? Also, kudos to Prithviraj for taking up this role which sees him play second fiddle to the central woman character. Mamukkoya excels in an unexpected cameo as Salim Mechery, Molly’s lawyer, who also dabbles in cartoons and plays (suspect that had Jagathy been around, he would have been a natural choice to play the character). It is Revathy’s movie throughout and I don’t think that for a minute that you’d think that she could be any different from the character that she plays – we need such strong female protagonists...

Prithvi as Pranav Roy is the haughty Assistant Tax Commissioner who goes strictly by the rule book and cares two hoots for the discomfort faced by the tax payer. He is honest and not driven by personal interests but knows that he has the power to make people bend and is willing to use his powers even if the situation does not demand it. It is a commentary of the sad state of affairs that bright officers are competent and intelligent but totally devoid of any sense of customer service. In a conversation with Salim Mechery, Pranav remarks that the money that should reach the poor is being siphoned away by NRIs like Molly only to be brought down to earth by Salim who reminds him that this money does not reach the poor but only the coffers of politicians.

But with all due regards to the director, I have misgivings over the way the movie peters out in a direction of morality that I find it difficult to digest. Call me a cynic but I have a problem with a moral angle being thrust in suddenly for no better reason than giving a sermon to us poor plebeians – something similar that I felt in the Ustad Hotel ending too.  Yes, we know that Molly cannot be dishonest and to expect a twist in the plot may go against her character and even Ranjith’s convictions as a director. But I’m sure there are better ways of taking an honourable exit, without cleaving in the morality clause.

Adv Salim finds glaring gaps in Pranav’s father’s tax returns and this could in itself have been used as a bargaining tool simply to drive home the point that even the best of men can be taken to task if somebody tries to really screw their lives (somebody like a Subramanian Swamy!). Molly’s defence of the expenses hidden from the Govt also do not cut any ice – when Pranav asks ludicrously as to why this could not have been shown in her tax statement, my mind was simply echoing his sentiments. What one presents in one’s tax returns is not in the public domain so her talk about shying away from publicity seemed far-fetched. And while she means well when she says that the taxes paid by her do not reflect into action by the Govt, it still does not explain her actions.

If you keep aside the contrived morality that seeps in during the end and a couple of scenes that appear out of place (like Salim’s entry into Molly’s house and the cringe-worthy spectacle of a tennis match), it is a warm movie that definitely gladdens your heart and reiterates Ranjith Sankar’s role as a director who thinks as the common man. His canvas for the film is not as large as in Passenger or Arjunan Sakshi but the situation is universally appealing; it avoids New Gen cliches and has a more traditional style akin to the old Sathyan Anthikkad cinema. His template of film making draws on the ability of ordinary citizens who rise to the situation when confounded with larger problems in life- what they do is not heroic but simple things that matter..

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez - http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2013/03/molly-aunty-rocks/ 

Arike

You step into a Shyamaprasad movie, thinking here’s another angst-ridden story that you are going to experience. There are signs that your fears may be true – there is a lonely woman with a tragic past who has no expectations in life and is confronted by various men in her life, you are prepared for the worst but you are pleasantly mistaken. An almost breezy, under-played romance lights up your screen and while its culmination is a deviation from its initial path, the subject is not so heavy to make you squirm or twitch – it simply makes you reflect on what love could mean.

Arike, based on a Bengali short story by Sunil Gangopadhyay is a Basu Chatterjee-meets-Woody Allen romance that moves slowly peeling the layers of love that exist till it abruptly reveals that love isn't as simple an emotion as it looks like. A couple is in love and a melancholic friend facilitates their romance by playing the dove but when it collapses suddenly, you are struck by the same question that Shantanu (Dileep) asks Anuradha (Mamta Mohandas) – did Kalpana (Samvrutha Sunil) ever love him or was it just a passing fantasy? Honestly, the answer is not quite evident and it is upto the viewers to figure out where the fissures developed in their relationship.

Kalpana is a rich, brahmin girl who falls in love with a more modest Shantanu, a researcher in linguistics. Her parents do not approve of the non-brahmin man in her life while Anuradha, her best friend, helps in playing Cupid so that the two can spend time together. But eventually, there is a small twist in the tale and the pyramid is turned upside down (a bit too drastically to my taste). The two women are the central protagonists in the movie while the man plays a more ancillary part in the proceedings.

Anuradha has had a sour relationship in the past when her own cousin cheats her. It is a wound that has never healed; she yearns for love but no longer believes that it exists. She wants to be loved but is unable to commit herself to the thought. She resents the presence of the men in her life – whether it is a silent neighbour whose wife is ailing, a teenager who makes passes at her or the various men who keep looking at her as single and available and willing to be taken. She is resigned to her fate and there are moments of loneliness that are slowly eating her. For her, Kalpana/Shantanu manifest true love (ee lokathil avasaanathe kamuki-kamukanmaaru) and she thinks that she must help them be together.

Kalpana comes across as the practical, loud playful lady who knows what she wants and is determined to ensure that she gets it. So, it does come as a surprise when she walks out of a relationship at its peak – but then we know so less about love that maybe it should never surprise us. She has had her share of romances that have died away with time and does not carry any baggage of the past, unlike Anuradha. She’s strong-willed and is not about to accede to her parents’ wishes that easily, despite their apparent emotional blackmail but after all that bravado, she just as simply turns around and embraces a new life.

We don’t really know Shantanu, except that he is in love with Kalpana but he’s not entirely sure whether she really loves him. Maybe it is their economic disparities or his feeling of being overwhelmed by the first love that comes across in his life – there is an uncertainty and an almost sense of disbelief that he has and maybe, just maybe that explains his somewhat-rational response to his loss at the end.

There is a difference in the way we see Kalpana and Anuradha – well-lit open spaces in contrast to darker and more congested interiors of her house. There are very few-closeups and most of it is taken in long shot with soft visuals and a retro background music that plays when the couple meet. The close-ups exist only of Anuradha and we see what she wants to see – the romance between the couple, the leering men and dark world outside her life.

But did love really exist between the two? Did they invest in each other emotionally enough to take it to the next stage? We can only guess that neither believed that the final step would eventually happen and so the occasional delays in their marriage registration date. The greater the love, the greater the tragedy when it's over but when it eventually peters out and the outpouring of emotions is so subdued, you realize maybe that the tragedy is not so depressing after all, maybe the absence of love was not so apparent after all. Was there an element of sacrifice involved, in the sense, does Kalpana think that post-the accident, she is no longer the same woman that Shantanu loved? Does she think that he no longer needs her or even vice-versa?

Shantanu and Anuradha spend much more time together than he spends with Kalpana. Even Kalpana’s letters to Shantanu are written by Anuradha – the letters that make him feel closer to Kalpana than he is. When he falls sick and meets them after a few days, Anuradha notices it but Kalpana is blissfully unaware about it. Shantanu repeatedly wonders if he’s the right one for her and there is an indication that he may just be drawn to Anuradha but this is treated by the director with a degree of ambiguity.

Dialogues are not the high point in the movie but a brief conversation between Guruji (Madampu Kunjukuttan) and Kalpana's parents sparkles as he makes them understand the futility of their attempts to get her married off to someone of their choice. He wonders whether a celibate Guruji like him is an appropriate person to advise their daughter on her marriage choices! His arrival in the scene marks a change in tempo in the film and it picks up a few rough edges in the form of a building quarrel, an arrest and a game-changer accident – all signs of bad omen, keeping in mind the tone of the movie.

When Shantanu eventually interprets his feelings, we are not sure what it means for Anuradha. Has her quest for love been achieved or does it reiterate her position that true love does not exist in this world. After all, can love simply be transferred from one person to another, just so easily, the way Shantanu expresses himself? Can a man who is so much in love with her friend suddenly fall in love with her? She realizes that she had created a mirage of true love which eventually comes tumbling down but it ironically leaves with her with somebody who probably loves her.

After all the display of  affection that you see on screen, the ending can be perplexing, for the simple reason that no explanation is given. Maybe the movie moves largely from Anuradha’s perspective and so you see only the bright side of the relationship and so when it sours, you are left scratching your head to think of a rational explanation to it. Shyamaprasad leaves it to us to infer why Kalpana walks out of a sure-shot loving relationship but doesn't give us enough clues to wonder where it went all wrong.

Mamta Mohandas is clearly the star of the show, with her absolute restraint and melancholic brooding self, towering over all others in the movie and also the song Iravil viriyum poo pole, sung beautifully by her. But I must admit that her Malayalam accent does not jell entirely with the notion of a small town girl from Kerala. While Dileep does look the role of an unsure academician who is in love, I felt the performance was a bit strained and he was putting in an extra effort to appear that part (The difficulty of fighting against the image created by the likes of Mr Marumakan and Mayamohini!).

Critics would have admonished a lesser director for an abrupt twist in the last 10 minutes but we are generally more generous towards the classier ones. Was the last scene just an attempt to bind the loose threads of two young minds who have lost their faith in love? Arike which means so close has multiple definitions for everyone in the story - a couple is so close to getting married but they don't, friends who are so close to each other but still unable to understand each other, two persons so close to each other but don't realize that they love each other. Whatever it may be, the movie drives home the notion of love being an abstract emotion that defies all logic, just as Anuradha and Shantanu discover eventually....

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez - http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2013/01/arike-movie-review-in-quest-of-love/

Ayalum Njanum Thammil

Some professions are more equal than the others and medicine is one such field where a doctor is revered and expected to go beyond his line of duty. He stands as a messenger of God and in many cases, his word is the clincher that gives that extra breath to a dying man or pushes a healthier man to the brink. As Dr Samuel (Pratap Pothen) reminds his junior doctors Dr Ravi Tharakan (Prithviraj) and Dr Supriya (Remya Nambeesan), while God is the final decider, sometimes even doctors can do that role and HE speaks through them in those moments.

Ayalum Njanum Thammil(ANT henceforth) chronicles the coming of age of Dr Ravi Tharakan, a care-free medical student who goes on to become a renowned cardiac surgeon. The story moves back and forth in multiple narratives between his casual life filled with fun and frolic on campus and his present life as he fights for survival in a world where ethics comes at a premium. He passes out of medical college in flying colours but is all at sea when it comes to actually putting his education to practical work. He lands himself a compulsory 2-year stint at a remote rural hospital in scenic Munnar, manned by Dr Samuel who gives up a well-paid corporate job to take up medical practice in a small but scenic village, devoid of urban pleasures.

There is a scene in ANT where Dr Samuel says that the difficulty in being a doctor is not in doing a diagnosis or a surgery but the ability to take decisions when it matters.Taking decisions is not something that Ravi Tharakan is used to and he has no aim in life until he meets Dr Samuel and learns a few harsh lessons in life. This journey is not a simple one and with every pitfall, he learns the meaning of life and discovers the doctor or rather the true human being within himself.

I wondered whether there will be a lesson on medical ethics that the movie seeks to impart consciously but thankfully, it does not allow itself to be too pedantic (the Aamir Khan way). Melodrama is muted which is not always a good thing and even when it makes a fleeting appearance, it fails to register (more on that later). While ANT makes the right noises about corruption in the medical profession in the form of usage of sub-standard drugs or medical equipment’s in the hospital, it faithfully clings to Dr Tharakan’s metamorphosis, without delving into the larger issues perse. Now, this is not a failing in the movie but these feelers needed to be expanded a bit more; the initial campus scenes could have been truncated to explore the medical side.

What works for the movie is that has its heart in the right place. It appeals emotionally as we feel Dr Tharakan’s loss when he loses his sweetheart Sainu (Samvrutha Sunil) to her parental coercion or when he faces a medical inquiry for refusing to treat a patient on account of a personal grudge. While the inquiry proceedings and its subsequent result act as the point of inflexion in the film, this is not a one-off moment. The transformation takes place gradually over a period of time and finally converges at the point of time when Tharakan realises how meaningful his life can be. There are no Lakshya like moments and what we witness is a more silent change which is at once believable, when the ultimate moment arrives.

There are scenes that worked for me even though I don’t think the sum total of the scenes add to the whole. Azhalinte Aazhangalil sung by Nikhil Mathew beautifully captures Tharakan’s anguish and Jomon T John’s charming visuals captures that emotional scar that cleaves his heart; the loss of a lonely heart has a raw appeal. When Tharakan gives chocolates and touches the feet of the little girl that he had refused to treat earlier, you can sense the guilt that he goes through. When it is revealed that Dr Samuel has had a failed marital life and his son is in wayward company, there is an acknowledgment that the even his mentor is lonely and has his own troubles.

Among the highlights of the movie (it’s not the script) are performances by the lead cast and Jomon’s splendid cinematography. Pratap Pothen fills in the space with a gentle performance that is at once warm and is devoid of any chest-thumping self-righteousness or irrational exuberance that is exhibited in such characters; whether ANT or 22FK, new age Malayalam cinema has resurrected this actor from wilderness. When he deals with his wayward son’s outbursts or tries to understand Tharakan’s love life, the man carries on with the role with an element of dignity.

Prithviraj as Dr Tharakan finally emerges from his shadows and delivers a performance that silences his critics (and there are many of them, esp those who cannot digest his attack on superstar-driven cinema). Whether it is the scene where he faces his father after the inquiry or even when he confronts the wayward SI or his silent anguish at being deprived of his love (despite it being so underplayed), the machismo is balanced with his sense of emotional turmoil. Jomon’s cinematography is a silent and gentle meditation that helps in accentuating the emotions that the cast goes through. Yes, Munnar is beautiful but the visuals never hide the undercurrents that happen but manage to create the shades of gloom and despair that accompanies many of the moments.

Again, for me, ANT was a potential classic where Lal Jose eventually chickened out allowing himself to be dictated by more conventional norms. The latter part of the 2nd half works in a predictable fashion and scenes are written to allow for co-incidences to happen and that is kind of disappointing because of the way the movie positioned itself for a greater part of its duration.

While Tharakan is committed and can go to any extent to save a patient’s life including do a free surgery even without taking consent from the patient’s family, he does not seem to have done anything about the supply of expired drugs/instruments, other than complaining to the Chairman about it. He is no whistle-blower and remains part of the system that has its hands in deep shit. By no means is the fraud being perpetuated a minor one and the shock that Diya feels when she sees a kid who loses his legs thanks to an expired valve, is shared by us. Wouldn’t pursuing his stand against this also be a part of the doctor’s ethics? Of course, you can argue that this incident is narrated to us through Diya’s perspective, so we do not know the entire truth.

Maybe it was not deliberate but in showcasing the dedicated doctors as members of the bearded gentry and the rest of the doctors as well-dressed or normal, wasn’t there a conscious attempt to stereotype their appearances and play to a gallery so that there is a neat compartmentalization between good and bad? A dedicated doctor like Dr Devi Shetty (of Narayana Hrudayalaya) who carries out free and low care treatment to patients but still is a such a charming personality can also be a prototype. Even when Diya (Rima Kallingal), the private secretary to the Chairman’s hospital, quits the hospital and joins ranks with the good boys, her appearance suddenly undergoes a transformation.

As mentioned earlier, there are no discourses on the Hippocrates’s oath except during the inquiry and the melodrama is muted even in the confrontational scenes with SI Purushothaman. There is just that once scene that has a tinge of melodrama but did not work for me. Dr Samuel slapping Tharakan in public for abdicating his responsibility wins brownie points from the audience but it left me wondering whether the situation could not have been handled more amicably. Maybe the doctor is a man of few words but wouldn't he even ask Tharakan to explain his behaviour, instead of going on the offensive? Even his exoneration of the doctor during the inquiry comes as a surprise (not to the audience) to Tharakan but again, wouldn't there have been a communication between the two before the inquiry? Mind you, he is not a good-for-nothing irresponsible doctor but somebody who in an earlier scene is shown as a man who goes beyond his duty, by working till early in the morning to treat a patient, even on the day he needs to travel to Ernakulam for his marriage on priority. Somewhere, these scenes have been played to the gallery instead of settling for subtler resolution of conflicts.

In medical circles, there has been a lot of debate on the merit of forcing medical doctors to work in rural areas with sparse infrastructure. From the look of it, work in Redemption Hospital in Munnar may not look like a bed of flowers but it is a far cry from the realities of difficult life in remote areas. Maybe if the writers had taken a peep into the difficulties faced by young doctors who have to spend two long years here and the lack of support they receive during this period, they would have been able to inject further reality into the surroundings. For somebody who has lived all his life comfortably, there is nothing to suggest his inability to cope with life in such pastoral surroundings.

But yes, none of these observations take away from the fact that the movie has an overwhelming emotional pull that largely works. It is well-intentioned and believes deep inside in what it wants to convey.For the writers Bobby-Sanjay, the epic blunder called Casanova can now be conveniently forgotten, after the success of ANT and for Lal Jose, ANT, his third movie this year definitely falls short of a Diamond Necklace but is miles ahead of a pedestrian Spanish Masala…

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez -http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2012/11/ayalum-njanum-thammil-lal-joses-emotional-saga/

Trivandrum Lodge

With every movie, Anoop Menon pushes the envelope a little higher (or the sheets a little lower) in dealing with immorality in the Malayali’s social life. Kerala is a state with a large independent woman class but revels curiously in its suppressed sexual desires – Malayalam sahityam must have broken many of its taboos long time back but its cinema is still circumspect when dealing with sex (a sensibility that did not exist once upon a time, mind you).

Trivandrum Lodge is a non-descript sea-facing lodge in Kochi whose inmates’ humdrums forms the core of the movie. It has its share of oddball characters like Abdu (Jayasuriya), a sex-starved tramp who does small time jobs for survival, Kora (P Balachandran, the director of Ivan Megharoopan), a retired clerk whose sexual exploits are supposedly just one short of reaching the four digit mark, Shibu Vellayani (Saiju Kurup), a small time cinema reporter who has a weakness for women and Dhwani Nambiar (Honey Rose), whose lusty presence awakens the sexual mood in the lodge. The lodge is owned by Ravisankar (Anoop Menon), a rich real estate developer; he is a widower who lives with his son Arjun. The movie largely probes their lives, from an angle of their sexual desires and lust which sometimes becomes not so-subtle and cringe-worthy.

What works for Trivandrum Lodge is that it is largely uncompromising in what it wants to say and make you feel. It sets out to create an adult comi-drama and succeeds to quite an extent; it is unabashedly immoral and celebrates voyeurism, without a hint of guilt. Just as you’d agree that brain is the main organ of sexual activity, it is the writing that drives the intent of the characters, not the visuals which are fairly more conventional. The camera does not try to tantalizingly linger on the female anatomy at any time but has a more relaxed focus, with more attention on the lodge.

Thankfully, for a movie that is steeped in suppressed desires, the camera does not try to titillate but leaves it to the characters to express their feelings in the form of crass talk, kochu pustakangal and sexual exploits of its characters. When the entire lodge is waiting to see what happens within closed doors as one of them massages the naked nape of an imminently desirable woman, it focusses on the crowd outside it as they prance about in anticipation. The audience becomes just another voyeuristic player in the drama who gorges down the fantasies of the lead cast.

Abdu is honest about what he feels (he likes Dhwani’s kundi the most as he tells her without batting an eyelid) and craves for sex but there is an element of innocence in him unlike the others. He does not have the sophistication of Dhwani’s husband or the smartness of Shibu or the loquaciousness of Kora but he is honest enough for her to spend time with him. He tries to bargain with a prostitute, even offering to pay for her services in installments but backs out when he sees her husband in a pitiable state. It is a fine directorial touch where the protagonist’s lust evaporates suddenly, with minimum usage of space.

There is a chemistry that exists between the mandan Abdu and Dhwani and while this constitutes a bright speck in a movie that treats relationships with butter hands, it is not exploited enough to make us want to see the two together. Dhwani is a newly divorced woman who wants to breathe her independence by fornicating with abandon (mootha kazahappu as her friend says) and live life devoid of rules. She knows she is the object of raw desire in the lodge but is still more than willing to play up her assets just to enjoy it – her encounters with Kora offering herself as his 1000th conquest and with Shibu when he makes his indecent proposal play out entertainingly.

Devi Ajith has a small but interesting role in the form of Zarina, Dhwani’s friend in Kochi. She’s a St. Stephens product who is happily married to a local panachakku whom she refers to as a mandan mappilla – the kind who has money but no class and is happy to act subservient to his more educated wife. It looks like a rather skewed relationship but then the secrets of a successful marriage are far too many for anyone to hazard a guess! Zarina is spot on when she remarks that in a big city like Kochi, you can get away with any level of immorality but if you are a Malayali woman, the moral police will come after you.

Anoop Menon as Ravisankar plays the only white character in the movie – he is a one-woman man who only loves his wife. His wife Malavika (Bhavana) dies in an accident but he’s still happy to stay single in her memory, even though the world offers him enough opportunities to go astray or seek new love. Trivandrum Lodge is just an old unpolished piece of antiquity but it has a special place for him in his heart because he’s promised Malavika that he will take care of it.

Tesni Khan plays Kanyaka (her same name as in Beautiful), a smart prostitute and gets the cockiest lines in the movie – whether it is her complaining of the difficulty in doing business in high-fi places or her wondering on why the act should generate a lot of noise! There is just a glimpse of her husband’s bed-ridden state but that’s skipped immediately because the director doesn’t want us to sympathize with anyone – it is all in free will. There are no half-hearted justifications or apologies for what is seen and what you see is what you get and the old man scene is the nearest that VKP gets to offer some sort of an explanation for the behaviour of any of the characters.

But it is the same writing that lets the movie down when it tries too hard deliberately to tell the audience that this is a different movie and we are trying to be bold. A lot of the dialogues is on the face and the corniness with a capital C makes it a contrived attempt to make it cool and seemingly open-minded (though not as extreme as the offensive Bachelor Party).

The dialogues seem largely driven by the attempt to go along with the atmosphere of the movie than driven by any real need to do so, as demanded by the characters. The plot is over-sexed and everyone in it is on a high driven by the sex hormone than anything else. To that extent, the movie plays out like a fantasy in the libidinous mind of the makers instead of a realistic snap of immoral life in such circles. It could have raised more questions on the newer definitions of morality as modern Kerala changes hesitatingly but it is too self-obsessed to look at a larger picture.

Take the father-son conversation between Ravisankar and his father (singer P. Jayachandran in a small cameo) as they discuss Ravi’s mother’s wayward life. Yes, much water has flown down the bridge and life has moved on but is it so simple to dissect one’s own mother’s life in such unflattering ways – the brilliance of a ‘vaishya’ or female Cassanova whose husband could not satisfy her, possibly in bed? I confess to be intrigued when Ravi asks his father Nammal nammude budhiyum kazhivum vilkkarille, pinne shariram vilkunnathil entha thettu but the conversation seems to be abjectly devoid of any emotional content as if the lady in question was a character in a novel and not one’s own mother.

Ravi as the faithful husband is an oasis in a sea of voyeurism but without enough emotional investment in him, it is difficult for us to appreciate his character. He looks less a business tycoon and more an artist with a relaxed life. I wish the character had been fleshed out more (actually, no character is given enough space to grow, except maybe Kanyaka and Abdu to a certain extent) so that his love, his feelings appear more concrete and we get a peek into this man, whom Dhwani is attracted to for the simple reason that she believes that no man can love a woman so much that he can stay single, even after her death. Even as a father, he treats the incident of the porn book in his son’s bag far too lightly for my comfort.

Ravi’s son Arjun’s romance is more out of a Karan Johar production than VKPs and greatly overdone and could have been avoided. Kid romances may be cute but is jarring in a movie whose style is below the belt variety. There are a couple of scenes at the beauty parlour which also have no connection with the movie and are more there only to make it sound horny – scenes that are reminiscent of any Bhandarkar movie. The plot does meander a bit wondering how to treat its wide assortment of characters (didn't Janardhanan look a bit lost) but it manages to trace an honourable exit route for itself, without creating too much fuss.

Trivandrum Lodge is a bold, unconventional experiment and celebrates voyeurism without guilt. It is funny and blatantly immoral and Anoop Menon enjoys cocking a snook at our hypocritical ways but I think that he just tries too hard to make it a different New Age cinema and so it comes off as partly pretentious and deliberate, unlike the natural flow of Beautiful. Nevertheless, it succeeds in putting across a tacky subject in its own uncompromising way and this in itself is a reason to watch the movie….

                                                                                                      

The film pays obeisance to Padmarajan’s immortal Thoovanathumbikal by getting Babu Namboodri to reprise his role of Thangal, as the famous strains of the movie’s background music plays out when he enters the frame. Even in the last scene, you see Kanyaka in a second hand Maruti-800 with him; remember Jayakrishnan talking about Maruti-800 being the best vehicle for such girls!

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez - http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2012/10/trivandrum-lodge-movie-review-sex-air/

Ustad Hotel

Surprise, surprise, is this an Anwar Rasheed film? So, Bridge in Kerala Cafe is not a fluke after all – the man can make cinema that is both entertaining and artistic, without making too many compromises. With Anjali Menon wielding the pen here, Anwar creates an engaging, though at times uneven (especially in the second half) tale of a young man who discovers his passion and love in life, as he stumbles from the peaks of a cosy life in Europe to a more grounded life in Kozhikode.

Ustad Hotel takes our olfactory nerve to a delicious fusion of Western and Kerala cuisine as it tells the story of young Feyzee (Dulquer Salman) who becomes a chef, much against the wishes of his ambitious father Razzaq (Siddique).  Circumstances force him to reach out to his grandfather Karim (Thilakan) who runs a small but renowned restaurant called Ustad Hotel along Kozhikode beach. Under the tutelage of the old man, the grandson and grandfather form a bond that teaches him valuable lessons in life. Just like the waves lashing along the beach, the movie has a fluidity that keeps you engrossed to its narrative as it sets about to give a meaning to young Feyzee’s life. It is a three-generational story and as it happens, the first and third generation find a stronger bond between themselves than the in-between one.

Feyzee is a bright, young man who is not sure where his heart lies. Being brought up with no elderly guidance around him, except his four elder sisters (fondly referred to as Ithatha Company), he is confused and takes steps hesitatingly in life, without being sure of what the future holds for him. The presence of Karim in his life at a critical time helps him to take stock of what he needs in his life and what are his true valuables. He is a chef who has graduated from Lausanne but he has to learn the basics that go into the business and profession before he can enter the kitchen.

Cinematically, Feyzee learns the trade from his grandpa but I suppose even outside the canvas of the film, young Dulquer will find himself in the same situation when in the company of an acting powerhouse like Thilakan.  Didn’t Thilakan also act like a godfather to Prithviraj in Indian Rupee? And the camaraderie between the two generations, when they talk about his grandpa’s love story and the failed father-son relationship,is very appealing. Keep in mind that it does not go overboard; when Karim is admitted to hospital, the first thing that strikes Feyzee is whether his grandpa will emotionally blackmail him to stay back!

Just as in Salt N’Pepper, food has a special relevance in the movie but here it goes beyond being just a metaphor and makes its presence practically everywhere – to that extent, it must be truly called India’s finest food film. It is omnipresent – In the Five Star Hotel which buys the Ustad Hotel Biryani at 35 Rs and sells it at Rs 350, the sulaimani whose secret ingredient is Mohabbat, the Fusion Food Festival where Feyzee makes a mark but is also insulted by a haughty customer, the parothas that are intricately shaped in Ustad Hotel, the biryani served at a Hellen Keller Institute in Madurai, a rock band named Kallumakayi (inspired by Avial?) – it is a film that has its eyes firmly fixed on one’s taste buds. Anjali Menon, in a recent interview, mentioned that most of the story was written when she was pregnant and the conspicuous presence of food in the movie maybe partly due to that!

Anwar is at ease when he takes a dig at the orthodox Muslim families in vadakkan Kerala, referring to their dressing, large family size and polygamy but it is all in good taste. Two scenes stand out here – a glimpse of the family photograph with Razaq and his burkha-clad wife (in contrast to a similar shot of his grandparents) and another a long shot which shows the fours sisters fully clad in burkha standing on the beach while everyone else around there else is present in beach attire! There are no stereotypes here in the movie's representation of Muslim characters; it eschews any such nonsense and becomes a rare instance, where the religious identity of the Muslim community is never brought to the forefront. Anjali and Anwar are on home turf and know Kozhikode and their cuisine well; when did a Malayalam film associate a city other than Kochi with rock music and a night life and create a foot-tapping rock number like Appangal Embadum Ottakku Chuttamayi?  Here, a girl like Shahana can be part of a rock band outside, travel with a stranger at night but be mostly burkha-clad and agree to an arranged marriage in keeping with the family conventions.

Both Diamond Necklace and Ustad Hotel struck me as movies which have a more literary feel, with the movies like screen adaptations of books. Possibly because they drew larger canvases around them and are structured very well in an unhurried, uncomplicated manner. But where Ustad Hotel wavers a bit is in its attempt to draw a finale or closing loose ends in a very convenient but not so satisfying manner – like the father-son strained relationship, the repayment of the bank loan, the seemingly scheming Big Hotel guys vs the poor restaurant folks, Fayzee’s foreign girlfriend’s character or Shahana’s (Nithya Menon) fiancée – some of these aspects seemed written only to close specific chapters in the plot. You don’t need to make one character bad only so that the main character emerges as the sympathetic one or audience favourite, right? Maybe it is an odd observation but a story penned by a lady does not have sufficiently strong lady characters!!!

It has everything going for it in the first half and as much as I wished that this growing of age film of a young man becomes a classic, the sudden pedantic shift to a convenient ending and the Swades touch, (including scenes that remind you of Ashutosh Gowarikar’s film) was a tad disappointing. It is like the director suddenly realized that there are loose ends to be tied and so opts for an easy out but I am not entirely convinced by that sudden diversion. It has been widely reported that the Madurai episode was inspired by Narayanan Krishnan who runs Akshaya Trust but while that makes it very heartening, I’m not entirely at ease with its absolute relevance in the plot. Did his trip to Madurai make him change his mind not to leave – I don’t buy that point entirely, though it did get a few moist eyes in the audience.

I must say that it is a very well-made film and that is where it soars beyond Anjali’s script alone. Lokanathan’s camera gives the Kozhikode beach a surrealistic feel and makes you feel a part of that silent ambience that pervades its environs as Sufi Dervishes whirl in meditation. Gopi Sundar adds to that aura, capturing the vibrations of the city and the aroma of the various dishes that permeate at many intervals in the movie.

Specially glad that Mammootty’s son has avoided big-bash superstar movies and both his forays have so far been attempts at intelligent cinema. He brings a certain earnestness to the character and is believable as a foreign-educated confused young man who traces his roots (inadvertently, ofcourse) with the eminently-likeable Nithya Menon for company while the colossus Thilakan effortlessly brings home the convictions of an old man who sticks by his principles and lives without any regrets.

It is significant that for a movie that deals almost entirely with Muslim characters, religion hardly makes a presence here (the presence of a moderate Sufi-stance may explain this). This by itself itself may not be an achievement but it is pretty rare for a movie to divorce the script from religion, especially when it deals with a Muslim milieu. Anjali and Anwar, coming together to craft a movie is indeed a rather unusual combination, especially if you look at their career graphs but then maybe, we have been underestimating Anwar and if Bridge and Ustad Hotel is any evidence to go by, we Malayalees can smile as more and more directors join the bandwagon of good cinema. What makes it more heartening is the tremendous response that the movie has received amongst audience, making it an overwhelming success.  Serious cine-goers may also want to keep an eye on producer Listin Stephen – with a track record like Traffic, Chaappa Kurish and now Ustad Hotel, you know he’s a name to be followed…

Originally published in MadAboutMoviez - http://www.madaboutmoviez.com/2012/07/ustad-hotel-tale-relationships-and-gastronimic-journey/