S. R. Praveen

One day might not be enough to get to know a person inside out, but Shahi Kabir’s Ronth almost achieves the impossible of giving us a peek into the deepest recesses of the hearts and minds of not one, but two people over the course of a single night. The writer-director pulls this off not through grand scenarios, but the crucial little details, which are sprinkled throughout the film. These are the kind of details that can be absorbed only by those who have actually lived through similar scenarios, which Kabir has, as a former police officer. Like, the scene where a senior policeman accepts a bribe to let off an inebriated priest involved in a road accident. In most films, such a scene, meant as part of character delineation without much connection to the larger narrative, would end there. Instead, here, it spills over into the next scene in the police jeep, where the policeman explains to his junior that the money is not meant for him, but to pay for the repairs of the jeep, since the reimbursements from the department take a long time to come. The scene thus gently transforms into a commentary on the system, just like the rest of the film.

The way a filmmaker conceives a single sequence can sometimes reveal the entire thought process behind the film. This is especially true of single-agenda films like Aabhyanthara Kuttavaali, the debut directorial of Sethunath Padmakumar. Sahadevan (Asif Ali), the protagonist who is facing a case under Section 498A over dowry harassment and domestic abuse, is shown returning to his wife’s family the 100 sovereigns of gold that he got as a “gift”, a modern-day euphemism for dowry. A sentimental background score accompanies this sequence which is framed fully from the man’s perspective, although he was earlier shown to have denied his wife’s demand for a part of the gold to fund her higher education. Even this demand on her part appears unjust by the way the film looks at it.

Evoking a time period is a challenge of a lesser order as opposed to effectively transporting the audience to that period. A few carefully chosen props might be enough to pull off the former, while the latter involves the arduous task of authentically capturing the zeitgeist of that time and hitting all the right notes to make it believable for those who might have lived through those times. In Moonwalk, debutant filmmaker Vinod A.K. makes a bold attempt for the latter and lands stylishly on his toes, evoking the iconic dance move of the early 1990s. The world that he recreates is the early 1990s in the coastal and rural belts of Thiruvananthapuram or rather more specifically, the emergence of a breakdancing subculture among groups of youths during that period. Of course, there are the grainy VHS tape visuals, Walkman, STD booths, disco-inspired costumes, frizzy long hair, Michael Jackson fanhood and every other nostalgia-evoking material from those times, but all of these are woven organically into a straight-forward, simple plot that holds an emotional pull.

At the core of Thamar KV‘s sophomore film, Sarkeet, is a sticky affair that pushes the limits of believability. But, it is to the credit of the makers and the actors involved that one goes along willingly with this rather unbelievable situation that propels the story forward. Thamar, going by the two movies he has made so far, appears to be adept at pulling off such uncommon occurrences in a light, engaging manner. For about half of its runtime, Sarkeet moves along two parallel tracks, one dealing with a couple who are struggling to manage their child with a severe case of Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and another on the travails of a young Malayali who has landed up in a West Asian country in search of a job.

Like a beast taking its time in revealing its true nature, Thudarum almost lulls us into a comfortable space with everyday happenings and innocuous humour in its opening passages. When it shifts shape, it does it ever so slightly, over the course of ‘Benz’ Shanmugham (Mohanlal)‘s pursuit to get back his beloved old car, unfairly seized by the police, and during a night journey up the hills, as one feels the tension ramping up. The film then coasts along on this path, while throwing in Shanmugham’s emotional roots at regular intervals, with the car, with a former stunt master and with his family. With Operation Java and Saudi Vellakka, Tharun Moorthy proved himself as a filmmaker to look forward to, but there was always the apprehension of how he would adapt his approach to a big star. He gets the balance almost right, giving the fans stuff to cheer for without compromising much on what he wants to say, in the way he wants it to be said. Buoyed by a solid story by K.R.Sunil, Tharun gets the right pulse for a mainstream drama. Intelligently woven into the plot is a natural disaster, which turns out to be one of the key elements in a revelation.

Cinema has for long provided an endless supply of content for social media memes, but the flow appears to have reversed in recent years. First came the influencers with their massive online reach, bagging noticeable roles. Now, viral online content has begun seeping into screenplays, to elicit easy applause. For instance, in debutant Sivaprasad’s Maranamass, co-written with Siju Sunny, Suresh Krishna’s recent online image as the “convincing star” is used to the hilt in one of the many humorous passages in the film. This “memeification” of screenplays is not necessarily a bad thing, especially in cases where it works like a charm. Incidentally, at the centre of Maranamass is Luke (Basil Joseph), a popular YouTuber and a self-proclaimed ‘sigma male,’ who has become a headache to the people in his neighbourhood owing to his public-spirited actions, like sticking wall posters of the panchayat president’s Internet search history or putting the local police station on sale to convey a point to the idle police officers. So it is not a surprise that when a series of killings of senior citizens takes place, the needle of suspicion points towards him.

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.