S. R. Praveen

In Boxing, dodging a punch is probably as important as landing one. Filmmaker Khalid Rahman clearly knows a thing or two about this evasion technique, which he portrays so well in the elegantly staged boxing bouts in his fifth film, Alappuzha Gymkhana. Like a skilled boxer, he also gently evades the genre compulsions of making a sports movie, especially one that revolves around boxing. In doing so, he also breaks the expectations associated with him after the inventive Thallumaala. It is not surprising, though, for all his five films have hardly anything in common. The attempts to break cliches in a sports movie is an endeavour fraught with risks, for it also means not going along that easy path with an endless supply of emotional highs and cheap thrills. Alappuzha Gymkhana does not deliver much of the latter but makes up with a relatable tale that spares a thought for those not cut out to win. The film is written in such a way as to make us think that we wouldn’t want it any other way.

A few late flourishes can sometimes redeem a film even though it might be hurtling downhill till that point. But, in Deeno Dennis’s directorial debut Bazooka, that supposed redemption arc comes way beyond a point where most of us would have stopped caring for the characters or the plot. It comes almost like a dessert that arrives after a tasteless main course that made your stomach feel queasy. As for the dessert, beyond the dressing on top, it turns out to be the same old under it. In Bazooka, hardly a moment passes without a background score. In a film tailor-made for the superstar’s fans, a good part of this score is dedicated to accentuating his every random movement. It begins right from the moment we see John Caesar (Mammootty) at a bus stop, reading a self-help book and waiting for a bus — inside which a good part of the film takes place. But then, ACP Benjamin Joshua (Gautham Vasudev Menon) also gets the same treatment when we first see him getting out of his car to carry out a routine vehicle check. This is not surprising in a film which survives mostly on its cosmetics.

Symbolism in art is inherently indirect, but in Prithviraj Sukumaran’s Empuraan it is thrown at your face, one ‘L’ at a time, to remind us of the omnipotent anti-hero Lucifer. Part of a broken cross atop a rundown church falls down, landing in slow motion as an ‘L’. Later, a burning tree branch falls perfectly as an ‘L’. If the ‘L’eft bottom corner of the screen were ‘L’it up, one could have savoured an ‘L’ for the whole ‘L’ength of the film. Part of Empuraan’s many problems lies in this over-reliance on the internationally notorious, shadowy figure of Khureshi Ab’raam aka Lucifer while relegating his local avatar Stephen Nedumpally (Mohanlal), the central figure of the first part, to a mere guest appearance. Now, Lucifer (2019) was a flawed film which in its post-release afterlife was turned into the holy grail of Malayalam commercial filmmaking, although it pales in comparison with the best of commercial entertainers of the 1980s and 90s. Yet, it had something going for it. Empuraan has hardly anything going for it, except for the richness of its production design.

A certain machine-like uniformity marks the male and female characters in Boban Samuel’s Machante Malakha. While almost all the male characters are good-hearted and submissive, a majority of the female characters are scheming ones trying every trick in their book to make life difficult for the men around them. This unmissable pattern in the writing of the characters serves the purpose for which the film appears to have been made – to put into cinematic form the grievances of the men’s rights associations that have cropped up in recent times. Machante Malakha begins as a typical boy meets girl story, with Sajeevan (Soubin Shahir), a bus conductor, falling in love with Bijimol (Namitha Pramod), a regular passenger in the bus, after a series of fights. But the prologue to this love story, when a fellow bus conductor whom Sajeevan is in love with leaves him to get married to a rich man, signals the film’s intentions. Whether it be due to this underlying agenda of the film or plain bad writing, Bijimol is written with confusing character traits, changing her behaviour multiple times even within a single scene.

Human beings are bound to have a breaking point, the limit till which they can take all the pain and sufferings that life throws at them. Geetha, the protagonist of Fazil Razak’s Thadavu(The Sentence) being screened in the international competition category at the 28th International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK), does not seem to have one. In the short period from the life of the 51-year old that we get to see in the film, she lands in one crisis after another, the latest one being more grave than the previous that it seems impossible that she would overcome it. But, for the woman scarred by two unsuccessful marriages and a series of unfortunate events, including being blamed for a child’s death for no fault of her own, the question of giving in does not arise.

Till a few years ago, one really had to struggle to pick out a flaw, personal or professional, in the police officers in Malayalam cinema. Right now, it would be hard to find an on-screen police officer without some baggage from the past, which gets almost as much focus as the investigation that the officer is pursuing. The picture is no different in Jithu Ashraf’s debut film Officer On Duty, but for a change, circle inspector Harishankar (Kunchacko Boban)‘s troubled history does not seem forced but something which organically gels in with the rest of the plot. The man comes across as borderline repulsive in his introduction scene, barking at his subordinates and violently attacking women suspects, so much so that we are more intrigued by the officer’s behaviour and are curious about his past than the minor crime regarding a fake gold chain that he is after. The screenplay works its magic in upsetting our initial assumptions, regarding both the protagonist and the case that he is pursuing.

Pop cultural references in a film often give a hint of the particular demographic the makers are aiming the film at. In Arun D.Jose’s Bromance, the references that fly thick and fast, almost as an easy stand-in for thoughtful dialogue writing, are from recent films. Just like his first two films, Jo & Jo and 18+, Arun attempts to create a movie targeted at the youth from a super thin storyline. But, unlike his previous outings, he goes for a much more fast-paced narrative that partly succeeds in covering up for the weaknesses in the plotting. There is the impeccable comic timing of Sangeeth Prathap, who continues in his Premalu vein to pep up even dull scenes. Written by Thomas P. Sebastian and Raveesh Nath, Bromance takes off with Binto (Mathew Thomas), setting out to find his elder brother Shinto (Shyam Mohan), who had gone missing.

Humour in free flow, with impeccable timing, could turn even poorly written films into experiences worth sitting through. But, when the humour is forced, with the effort to make us laugh painfully visible in every other scene, it can bring down even a film with a decent idea. In Sreejith Babu’s debut film Painkili, written by Jithu Madhavan, the attempts to create comedy, except in a few scenes, are akin to the efforts to push out the last bit of toothpaste from a near-empty tube. Writing was not really one of the strong points of Jithu madhavan’s Aavesham, which turned into a major hit mainly due to Fahadh Faasil’s unrestrained, over-the-top performance. Panikili is designed in such a way that almost every character is at some point required to exhibit over-the-top behaviour, even when it does not come naturally to them. The result is a film which struggles to take off, and is confused about what it really wants to say.