Thaai Kizhavi

In Tamil Nadu, there’s something called the kadamba maalai (mixed garland). It might look like a splotch of colours, but there’s synchrony in terms of colour and math involved in the frequency of a flower being used. Watching Thaai Kezhavi, that’s what I thought of the writing. Writer-director Sivakumar Murugesan handles multiple strands, but knows what to do with each, many minutes after the first reference. The floral reference? Watch the movie, and you’ll know why. Everyone has been raving about Radhika Sarathkumar’s performance and rightly so. The rest of the team hits it out of the park too, conveying a mix of yearning, small-mindedness, jealousy, mindless anger, and the like. But the root for all of that is the layered writing that has something for everyone, and which transports you to rural Tamil Nadu, where life moves at a different pace and where even a house where someone has died or is going to, can become a venue for entertainment.

From Disney’s Snow White to our own Vidaathu Karuppu, the evil grandma stereotype shines, making an old woman the face of terror and crudeness. Indian TV and its serials have furthered this trope of this evil old matriarch harassing the hapless daughter-in-law. On the other hand, there’s another popular archetype of a benevolent old woman, who “melts like a candle” to produce light for those around them. Manormama has been the quintessential choice of Tamil filmmakers for this cardboard cutout. The scene from Shankar’s Gentleman, of her telling her son (Arjun Sarja), “Naan irukaen pa” (“I’m there for you”). She is the all-giving mother, and men are supposed to find her godly love and care in their potential mates.

Money. In a world that is all about division, money holds the ultimate power to make you breach such hierarchies. Of course, it also results in the decimation of a few age-old structures, but that’s par for the course in a world that doesn’t wait for people to catch up. But is money really the ultimate thing? Does the presence or lack of it really determine your worth in the world? As a character in the debutant filmmaker Sivakumar Murugesan’s film says, “Has any parent refused to take care of their child because they didn’t have the financial resources?” One might think it is a poignant tale of parents and children, and how the world treats the geriatric. In a way, Thaai Kizhavi is definitely that kind of a film, but it is also a film that makes you unabashedly laugh out loud with a consistency that has been missing in Tamil cinema for quite a while.

Imagine a foul-mouthed matriarch who terrorises everyone with her mere presence, yet delivers the most valuable lesson on independence, agency and womanhood. If you operate on social media’s version of morality, your mind will immediately question this dichotomy. But Sivakumar Murugesan’s Thaai Kizhavi grounds you, drags you back to real life and makes you laugh while quietly asking the most important question of all — what does it mean to truly live, rather than merely exist in someone else’s shadow?