The Wikipedia entry under “Synopsis” for Angamaly Diaries is remarkably concise: “The story of local people and their life at Angamaly.” In a sense, that is really all there is to Lijo Jose Pellissery’s drama. It’s the story of the man who embraces a tree while preparing a bomb, so that even if it explodes in his hands, his face and body won’t be harmed. It’s about the woman who, when invited to a wedding, wonders if liquor is on the menu. It’s about the girl who is dumped rather curtly, in a first-floor restaurant – the man walks away, and she stares out of a large window, at the town of Angamaly below, which goes about its business with little regard for her tears. It is about the business that drives this town, the business of pork that’s conducted over the squeals of pigs facing the knife. And it is about the gay man in a butterfly-print shirt, who gets the film going as he scooters over to meet a gangster named Benny. Soon, there’s violence.
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