Spoilers ahead…
The crux of Kuttram Kadithal, which was recognised as Best Film in Tamil at the National Awards announced this year, is the blurring of the line between religion and humanity – rather, the blind belief in a higher power versus the more rational belief that humankind is capable of many of the things (retribution, absolution) we often associate with God, and is therefore as worthy of being worshipped. The latter was the credo of some Communists, most famously Maxim Gorky – indeed, his Mother is explicitly referenced here. It’s not just the number of long-suffering mothers in this movie – the wife (Durga Venugopal) of a school principal; the auto-driving mother (Sathya) of one of the children (Chezhiyan, played by Master Ajay, whose impishness is irresistible) at that school; the devout mother of Merlin (Radhika Prasiddha) who is first seen handing out religious pamphlets; or even Merlin herself, who has just married Manikandan (Sai Rajkumar). Our first glimpse of the couple is in a beautifully written romantic scene – he asks her when she’s going to give him children (put differently, when she will become a… mother). Consider Merlin’s profession too. As schoolteacher, she is, in a way, essentially a ‘mother’ to a number of children.
But more importantly, like the Gorky novel, this film is a call for revolution – the battleground, so to speak, is the school system. Or perhaps even the System. A key early scene belongs to Udayan (Pavel Navageethan; and what a coincidence that the actor’s name is that of a character in Mother), a hotheaded but fair-minded Communist who is Chezhiyan’s uncle. A car knocks down a spindly old man. Udayan, who witnesses the accident, refuses the bribe from the owner of the car. Instead, he demands another kind of compensation, that the ‘rich man’ drive the ‘poor man’ to the hospital, stay with him through the course of treatment, and bring him back to this very spot. This is a different kind of God from the one Merlin’s mother worships, but he’s doing some of the same things – meting out punishment for a kuttram/sin, and ensuring that justice prevails. And so that we don’t miss the Gorky connection, Udayan is seen reading Thaai, the Tamil translation of Mother.
These abstractions are rendered concrete through a story that revolves around Chezhiyan. The director Bramma takes his time drawing us in, and at first, we just see various people – Merlin and Manikandan; Merlin’s mother; the principal (Kulothungan) and his wife; Udayan – doing various seemingly disconnected things. These portions are wonderful. But slowly, almost like a foreshadowing, these lives begin to crisscross. Merlin’s mother, for instance, happens to be at the scene where Udayan is looking into the car accident, and later, Chezhiyan’s mother helps her pick up some papers that have spilled on the road. It’s all part of some grand plan by the Creator – note this director’s name. And over the Kaalai nila song, all these threads (and all these people) converge.
A word about the songs (the tuneful music is by Shankar Rangarajan). They are at odds with the rawness, the minimalism of the narrative – they’re too smooth, too lushly orchestrated, a little too eager to tug at the heart-strings. But Bramma uses them very well. He finds interesting visual parallels for the lyrics – a line like ovvoru naalin vannangal has children playing with colourful saris. And in a classroom sing-along, he gives us a sense of the entire school, which practically becomes a character, as ‘well-written’ as the people who inhabit it. We see the biology teacher and her class on reproduction. We see the maths teacher and her blackboard filled with formidable equations. We see the birthday girl who’s not in uniform, she’s wearing a new dress. We see kids kneeling down outside class. We catch a glimpse of chemistry lab. We overhear some banter in the teachers’ common room. We even see a ‘substitute miss.’ Manikandan’s office, too, is similarly detailed, with a Tamil-speaking Sardar who’s not treated like a caricature – he’s nothing special, just one of the many non-Tamilians who’ve made Chennai their home. This is fine filmmaking. It immerses us in its world.
The other immersion is in the world above, signs of which are everywhere. (Not since Kadal has there been such overt religiosity on screen.) It’s there in the words on a sticker on a truck’s windshield, and in the principal’s invocation of “aandavan.” It’s there in the image of the crucifix inside Merlin’s cupboard, and in the cross reflected in the mirror of a scooter. (In a rather overblown directorial touch – and there a quite a few, like one with a plastic bag – we see the ‘Objects in the mirror are closer…’ warning; God maybe closer than you think.) It’s there in Udayan’s threat to Merlin’s mother that he’s not the kind to “turn the other cheek.” It’s there in the physician who dismisses a nurse when she declares the outcome of a surgery as “miraculous” – as a man of Science, he is the healer, he is God.
And it’s there in Merlin’s guilt. At first, it isn’t guilt – just an unnamed feeling. She has, after all, married a man named Manikandan, and her mother, clearly, does not approve. (There’s a mild Alaipaayuthey feel to these portions.) But she’s still her mother’s daughter. We see her Christian compassion when she insists that the rat that’s caught in a trap is set free on the road and not drowned, as her husband suggests. She tells Manikandan in jest, “Nee Christian-aa irundhirukkalaamo-nu thonundu.” But later, when she gets into trouble, serious trouble, she frantically wipes away the vermilion mark on her forehead, and we wonder if she thinks all this is happening because of her going against her faith. “Nee Christian-aa irundhirukkalaamo -nu thonundu” may no longer be just a half-thought. Her self-flagellation is depicted through a man on the streets whipping himself for money. Little of this is said, but we take a look at her mother and we know the kind of ultra-religious household she was raised in, and the things we often rebel against or reject come back to haunt us during life’s dire moments.
Up to a point, Bramma exhibits superb control. His reveals are slow, he trusts the audience. At first, it seems stupid and borderline-irresponsible that the principal and his wife go to such lengths to protect Merlin, but later, in a devastating scene, we see why. The actors are marvellous – it’s hard to single out anyone, but Sathya’s pinched face broke my heart. The dialogues are a natural mix of Tamil and English, and they have the snap of real-life speech. “Orey coffee… full-a scan pannitten,” says the principal of Manikandan, as if he were appraising the future husband of his own daughter. (But then, maybe he is.) And Bramma is careful not to take sides. The film boils down to a battle between Merlin and Udayan (or the sides of God and Man-as-God), and Bramma keeps things on an even keel. If Merlin loses her temper and slaps a child at school, Udayan loses his temper and slaps a man who tries to advise him. Anyone can lose it in a moment. There are smaller parallels too – a truck driver hands Merlin a bag of food, like Udayan does to his sister, and the backstories of both Merlin and Udayan are compressed into the Chinnanchiru kiliye song late in the film. (And what a great decision to save these details for this point. We watch the death of Chezhiyan’s father and we see the little boy clinging to his uncle’s arm… An entire relationship is laid out in a split-second visual.)
But somewhere in the second half, Bramma loses his grip and runs out of things to do. He keeps delaying the inevitable (it’s not hard to guess, given the religious nature of the film) – and we keep killing time with a koothu performance and a detour at a shady-looking lodge. There are surely better ways to portray the unravelling of Merlin’s mind than to have her run away and set a panic-stricken Manikandan in pursuit. These melodramatic contrivances belong in a different movie. It’s almost as if these stretches were supervised by a different director, one who’s decided to abandon all the subtlety and restraint shown so far and get all messagey with a megaphone, with a solo violin sawing away in the soundtrack. A scene in a cafe between a journalist and an IT professional is a particular low point. For some reason, our filmmakers just can’t think of new ideas when it comes to depicting the media. The press-conference ending is a disgrace. It’s true that Mother isn’t just a story, it’s propaganda too. But novels have many, many pages and a lot of interiority. Trying to achieve similar ends in a couple of hours makes one look less like a filmmaker than a pamphleteer.
KEY:
- Kuttram Kadithal = punishment for a crime
- Mother = see here
- Kaalai nila = morning moon
- ovvoru naalin vannangal = daily colours
- aandavan = the dude up there
- “Nee Christian-aa irundhirukkalaamo-nu thonundu.” = Maybe you should have been Christian.
- “Orey coffee… full-a scan pannitten” = Just a cup of coffee, and I knew what he was all about.
- Chinnanchiru kiliye = see here
- koothu = see here
An edited version of this piece can be found here. Copyright ©2015 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
doctorhari
September 26, 2015
Just returned from watching the movie. A few rough edges here and there, but on the whole, I felt it was an absolutely terrific movie. The final scene didn’t grate on me as much as it has done on you. I saw in her confession only her courageous stepping up and owning up her mistake in front of the public. That scene, imo, was needed as an end point for the arc of the character. The ‘students shouldn’t be beaten’ dialogue in that seemed to only be of incidental importance to me. It was the courageous confession of her that the director wanted to stress, I guess. Of course, considering the scenes before that, it did feel a tad redundant. But the director too seems to be aware of this – evidenced by the acknowledging smile on that boy’s uncle’s face as he signs the book for her.
In the theatre I watched, the audience spontaneously stood up and clapped as the movie ended. Kakka muttai a few months back, and now this. Something in the water in Kodambakkam. 🙂
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vishal yogin
September 26, 2015
Saw this at MAMI 2014 last year, and as the movie unrolled, I kept hoping secretly (automatic reflex) that Merlin would not go insane. And I hung out with Radhika right after the film. It was nice.
@BR I never got around to writing on the movies I saw. I said to you that I would, but I kept putting it off, sorry. Though if I had written, it would probably be something silly in comparison with what you write 🙂 I’ll try to write this time anyway… a bit over a month left for MAMI this year! Are you coming this year?
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Srinivas R
September 26, 2015
I haven’t watched this movie, but going by this review, it seems to have a moralistic streak. I have always wondered about this tendency of tamil movies to be preachy. Even good directors feel the need to ennoble us with morals of life. I watch only tamil and hindi movies and hindi don’t have this tendency to preach (except Madhur Bhandarkar maybe ). I wonder why?
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Vivek
September 28, 2015
Loved the review.
At some level this movie reminded me of “crash”. About media….. Don’t think the portrayal was any different from kaakka muttai…. Though more hard hitting here. given the role of media itself was not very different in these two films, was interesting to see it being mentioned here in your review.
The director himself seemed to be showing signs of what merlin was showing in the movie. Thankfully…..it stopped with just ” signs of”.
A lot to take away for vasanthabalan/Balaji sakthivel/suseenthran etc for the kind of movie they want to make and the kind of movie they end up making.
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Uma
September 29, 2015
I just watched the movie on Tentkotta and felt that the movie was terrific. Not the usual crappy masala but something with a strong storyline. The performances were great. Wish Tamil cinema will continue to produce such meanigful movies
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Tina
September 29, 2015
Great review.
I felt the same way, so enjoyed reading this even more.
One thing that really struck me was the midnight song blaring in the bus stand. It gave me the feel of really standing in one, despite watching online. Music /re recording was just so brilliant there. Very tatroopam 😀
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brangan
September 29, 2015
Tina: Also the selection of song. Aaru athu aazham illa. It’s not just that it’s a fantastically moving song. It’s also that it’s a song that’s just a few rungs short of full-blown pathos. It’s hard to nail this song with a precise word in the emotional continuum and that’s just like the opening moments…. which are all about the “aazham” in that “pombala manasu.”
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Ram Murali
September 29, 2015
I haven’t seen this movie yet but am glad you wrote about “Aarum adhu aazham ille” from “Muthal Vasantham.” In terms of being a “few rungs short of full-blown pathos,” I think it’s similar to “Kadhal Enbadhu Podhuvudama” (from “Palaivana RojakkaL”) there’s something utterly raw in the lyrics, tune and Raja’s rendition that makes the song fit right into that slum setting that the song is shot in n describes the angst of the characters… incidentally, both movies were directed by Manivannan.
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kums
September 30, 2015
I felt the movie was ok. Maybe I got too carried away by several reviews. Two things that I felt were over the top: 1) Music was too loud 2) the kids were over-reacting – especially that one girl who explains to Merlin and then later to principal (if I am not wrong). This is where kakka muttai was significantly realistic – both the kids and music.
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bart
September 30, 2015
Loved the movie.
I was happy for not photo-frame-finishing either the kid or the teacher which was a convenient route to take. I was happy for not caricaturing the police commissioner, Manikandan’s manager, Sardar and other supporting characters (except that one male, threaded teacher 🙂 ). I was happy with the picturisation of the two songs especially that of Bharathi. I was happy that the plot never got tempted into that “moolaila katti” issue being blown up / used as a shield. There were just too many things to be happy about in the movie that it deserved the slack of the dramatisation in the end 🙂 .
This undoubtedly has been a bumper crop year for Tamil cinema. Awaiting Visaranai and hoping it will be the third diamond on its crown…
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ramchanderkrishna
September 30, 2015
Rangan, you missed out one mother in your list. The inspector mother, who picks up her kid from karate class in the night, asks him what he’d like to have for dinner and later when talking to Udhayan on phone, she eats noodles from a bowl (the noodles probably being the leftover food from what her kid ate, perhaps hinting that here’s a mother who pampers her kid. Loved the fact that it was left as a hint.)
The IT-guy-talking-to-reporter scene was shit, I agree. But, I felt the other media scenes were quite good. The scene where Sathya throws the food parcel out was heart-wrenching. As audience, we know what happened before she entered that auto and I could feel Sathya’s agony at that point. And I felt like saying “Leave her alone! Let her eat!” The questions that the journalist asks after entering the auto were not caricatured. They felt real.
In the climax press scene too, I felt the clamouring journalists felt real. Here I don’t see the journalists as the ones being crucified. Any normal person who reads the statement that the District Education Officer gives would feel the same way, “Hospital report padi andha payyanukku erkanave moolaila kattiyaam. Enna gapsa ma idhu?” Once a person’s mind is made up, it is difficult to change it with hard facts. When you feel the system is faulty you will jump at any incident that designates it so. That way the scene is a commentary on any person who has an opinion on a news event. Not just the press.
When was the last time you saw a movie in which the wife sits behind her husband on a scooter, the husband asks “Ukkaandhaacha? Polaama?” and then starts the scooter and leaves? And this husband, the school principal, is shown wearing a helmet everytime. Perhaps extra caution after the accident of his daughter? So much subtlety in this movie that the more you dig, the more is revealed 🙂
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Hari K
October 5, 2015
Just now seen the movie on Tentkota. It is a terrific movie. Your review is not a fair one.
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apala
October 6, 2015
BR,
I think the review is spot on… I enjoyed some portions of the movie, but the overall meal is not good enough to call this movie with superlatives… I am a sucker for sentimental movies but somehow this one did not pull my heart strings as I wished.
Looking forward to Vetrimaran’s Visaaranai…
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ramchanderkrishna
October 8, 2015
@rangan: Can we request you to interview specific people? Am curious to know how a rangan-interviews-director-Bramma article will read like 🙂 The director seems to have gone on record in one of his interviews saying the fact that he watched lot less cinema helped him in making this movie. Also, an interview with director Nalan Kumarasamy please _/_
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Jagan
October 15, 2015
The title of your review of the movie is more fitting to the Review itself than the ARTefact you tried to JUDGE,
The perspective with which you have observed the movie is so adorable but that is not just it.
To me, the movie, the way you say (Or how I interpreted from your Review), is not just something about the Novel (Which I haven’t read, maybe that might have got me form this diff opinion) and Motherhood or something to do with just religions and Communism.
I’m unable to classify this piece of ART as a movie only when the number of Crowd Pleasers (that is what they feel) are termed movies.
This one has Flawlessly Reflected the society keeping the spectators involved too. And the way, “The icing on the cake moment – in the midst of the song from one of the Greatest vocal revolutionaries of this part of the world” was visualised and maneuvered to address to one devastating issue of the society.
That moment of the song, “Kannathil Muththamittaal” is not the flashback or a crowd pleaser but a Slap at the face of the Society – which is having a very tough time with this particular three lettered term!
And I don’t get this at all!! Why wouldn’t anyone give the Creator his freedom to sculpt his own artefact!!
Not a moment in the movie was dawdling as Mr. Reviewer claim. After all, this is a piece of art which mirrors the Contemporary Society and the Creator has included it to add a detail to the masterpiece. And every word in the whole run time was carefully depicted to stick to the needs of the creator. Not a word spoken without adding something for the screenplay.
And one among the number of flawed observations is the Translation of the title of the movie itself..!
Kuttram Kadithal meants avoiding a Crime.
Punishment is the English name chosen for the movie!
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Dhana
October 17, 2015
The cinematography was exceptional. No mention of the cinematographer?? 😳
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hrishi
February 13, 2017
one of the best movies i saw this year. saw it late. one of my best takeaways is the extraordinary decency of normal people, and also despite their inherent decency – commit so many mistakes. the teacher and her spouse who run away, cheziyan’s mom, uncle, the principal who asks her to run away , merlin’s mom, up to the lorry driver who gave them a lift. i dont think there is a single character – including the journalist – who was not a decent person. and yet how many mistakes in day-day life- accidents, corporal punishment, running away from a situation, exploiting for TRP, etc. what a film!
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