Alappuzha Gymkhana

In recent years, several Bollywood big-shots with varying degrees of wealth and intelligence have said that South Indian movies are performing better than their Hindi counterparts because they’re more ‘rooted’. The word has become a part of the lexicon, alongside terms such as ‘elevation scene’ and ‘BGM’. Anurag Kashyap has said it; Javed Akhtar has said it; if they’d asked the women, they’d have said it as well. But what does the word ‘rooted’ even mean? The one movie that perfectly captures all the ingredients that are missing from Hindi cinema these days, the one movie that Bollywood would do well to emulate, is the Malayalam-language sports comedy Alappuzha Gymkhana, which debuted recently on SonyLIV after an excellent theatrical run. It’s as rooted as they come. But the definition of this kind of cinema could vary. While Kashyap thinks that ‘rooted’ cinema refers to stories of the heartland, Akhtar has complained that Hindi filmmakers are losing touch with the language. He forgets that his own children write in English and have their scripts translated. For most Bollywood producers, ‘rooted’ is merely a code word for a very specific kind of big-budget movie; the chauvinistic and bombastic sort of cinema popularised by the Telugu industry and bastardised by the north.

Five friends who fail their 12th-grade exams seek college admission through sports quota (boxing). Led by Jojo Johnson, they join the local Alappuzha Gymkhana boxing school under coach Salim, and later, Antony Joshua. What begins as a casual effort to bide their time evolves into a tale of friendship, self-discovery, and grit as they train and compete in district/state championships. Though Naslen is the most recognisable face in the film, the story wisely avoids overly distracting itself to give him more prominence. It still makes the most of his goofy persona, and the actor fits the role of Jojo perfectly. Lukman Avaran is well-cast as the hot-blooded coach, while Anagha Ravi has a lot of fun in her brief appearance.

The heroes of Malayalam sports comedy Alappuzha Gymkhana are more laughing punching bags than lean and mean fighting machines. In the adept hands of co-writer-director Khalid Rahman, it’s what makes them worth rooting for. Never has following failure been this much fun and worth reflecting on. Jojo Johnson (Naslen Gafoor), Cheruth (Franco Francis), DJ aka David John (Habish Rahman), Shanu (Shiva Hariharan) and more are a bunch of good-for-nothing fellows struggling to clear school grade 12. Failure, though, doesn’t dent their confidence. Jojo comes with a bright idea of taking up boxing to get into college through sports quota. Little do the boys know what they have signed up for. So begins a film where Rahman lands more punches of the humorous kind as he follows guys big on ambition and short on experience, and in a few cases boxing talent, struggle in the ring.

Five skinny dudes turn up at the Alappuzha gym and announce that they want to learn boxing. The man at the desk says, that’ll be a thousand in advance, plus monthly fees. The boys murmur about not being able to afford it. Fine, the official says, how about 300? There’s a chorus of assent, but one of them hopefully asks, EMI? They say you shouldn’t put a hat on a hat, place a joke on top of another. Khalid Rahman’s Malayalam film Alappuzha Gymkhana is the exception to this rule. There are jokes within jokes, jokes appended to jokes, jokes hanging off other jokes like the last commuter on a packed bus. And it all works. This is a slacker comedy that’s works hard, a babbling stream of slapstick, non sequiturs, sight gags and general silliness. Along the way, it also manages to be a damn good boxing film.

Alappuzha Gymkhana is about a bunch of small-town boys trying to become boxers. But the brilliance of director Khalid Rahman’s writing lies in the fact that the film is not actually about boxing. Jojo Johnson (Naslen), Shifas Ahammed (Sandeep Pradeep), Shifas Ali (Franco Francis), and David John (Habish Rahman) are teens from Alappuzha Gymkhana who have just discovered they haven’t cleared their board exams. This doesn’t come as a surprise to them—they seem to know their limitations. Jojo, the driving force of the group, convinces his friends that becoming boxers might help them gain college admissions, given that academics clearly aren’t their strength. But the real motivator seems to be their bruised egos. What begins as an impulsive decision gradually turns into something life-changing when the group enters a state-level tournament.

They say all you need is love, but sometimes misplaced confidence can go a long way. It is a gift. It might come across as awkward or arrogant or both. It might make one look like an asshole or, worse, foolish. Sometimes the audacity is rewarding, and the reckless abandon can often lead to a hard fall. The very definition of misplaced is such that one cannot predict its outcome or reception. But it is indeed a gift, and goes a long way. It reveals that there was an attempt. That someone took a shot. That no matter what Yoda says, there is always a try. One didn’t simply walk away quietly. One refused submission.