(by Karthik Amarnath)
A viral visual from the recent array of protests showed an army of men in protective gear. Facing a young woman carrying a rose. It reminded me of another visual from a twenty year old movie song that showed an army of men with tanks and guns. Around a young woman clothed in pink. Metaphors abound in both images. What actually struck me though was the irony of finding that image in a particular WhatsApp group. This is the kind of group where women are usually featured as cardboard caricatures in misogynistic memes. The whiny wives. Gullible girlfriends. Mean mothers in law. Many of us (men, at least) know groups like this. The population is all men, memes are created by men, messages forwarded by men, and the jokes laughed at by men. Studies in genetics or statistics will you tell you that a larger population size reflects higher diversity. But if the question you’re asking is how many more men must this group have for women to start sounding real, well then, you are probably counting in the wrong direction…
Looking through eyes of men alone, (what) can women really be? There’s a meta commentary on this in a Tamil film which, subversively enough, was promoted to be about feminism. In the Tamil lexicon, Iraivi, refers to a Goddess, and is a hardly used word. In the film, Iraivi refers to hardly cared for idols of Goddesses. These are considered a symbol of skillfully sculpted perfection. By men. They could very well be a symbol of the exacting deific standards (Pen Deivam as Tamil Cinema kindly puts it) that women are held to. By men. In this movie, by the patriarch, Dass. Just as he had carefully chiseled away every imperfection till stone turned into a perfect idol, he scrupulously scolded his wife for every imperfection till she fell into a permanent coma, attaining perfection as only a lifeless stone can. That for the entirety of the movie, members of her family accord her a divine reverence, and she bears mute witness to their repentance and confession, symbolizes her deification.
If holding women to an idolized ideal weren’t harsh enough, imagine chaining them to the image of that eternal maternal Madonna. She, who birthed a divine child. In a manger. Seeded by an invisible Spirit. The movie subverts this (Tamil Cinema’s Thai-kulam) gaze through three characters, all of whom experience “motherhood”. In toxic relationships. With men who are referred to as demons. Yazhini and Ponni, who open the movie messaging their independent desires, bind themselves to marriages with two of these men. The men seed babies for them to bear before vanishing into their own vanity— Arul as a depressed drunk, and Michael a hotheaded henchman. The third maternal character is Arul, who created a film, his baby, with money seeded by a petty producer. All these “mothers” struggle to give their children the lives they deserve. There’s another woman character in this mix, Malar, who lives free of attachment. The derisive gaze she receives literally (from the men) brings to mind that all too familiar alternative to the Madonna. An interval twist brings a whiff of release from the toxicity. With men dead, divorced or in jail, all in one fell swoop, the children belong wholly to mothers, true to the biblical image. (The unreleased movie lands in the care of the producer’s wife.) The freedom from father figures though turns out to be fleeting.
That women are deserving of unfettered freedom is a yearning. Yearned by the youngest of the men, Jagan, who in an early conversation demonizes men for their carnal caging of women. His ride on the high horse is snapped by the interval twist, and his primal gaze starts mirroring the very men he demonized. In a telling scene, we see Michael in a shot where his face is framed by an opening in a window, and moments later, in an identical shot, he is replaced by Jagan whose face is framed by the same opening. A climax confession reveals Jagan’s pursuit to tie with a marital knot a woman he had wanted to see free. This contradiction also colors his other pursuit in the film which is to release the Iraivi statues from decadent shrines only to sell them for profit. When Jagan’s proposal is distanced by the woman (seemingly by way of Tamil Cinema’s Patthini principles), these intertwined threads tie up in a climax twist that echoes the interval one. This time, with all the men dead or in jail, all in one fell swoop, we are shown a picture of lasting freedom for the women.
That of all the chains that confine women, the male gaze is hardest to break free could be a defining metaphor not just for this movie but for Tamil cinema. This is a cinema culture that, when it’s not worshipping its leading men, is continually cranking out formulae that solves for the A, B, C variables. The women in this equation have mostly turned out to be two dimensional constants plugged in for convenience. The loony lover. Working wife. Fat friend. Vengeful Vamp. Even characters that are interesting, often end up being interesting like a menu item thats great to read about and gives you something to chew on, but still feels remote. Fully fleshed perfectly played characters like the nameless mother in Kaaka Muttai are the proverbial black swans. You don’t need complex equations to determine that Tamil films have been overwhelmingly written by men (166/176 screenwriters have been men), produced by men (110/125), shot by men (96/103) and directed by men (421/442). Now if by following genetic or statistical studies, you’re going to ask how many more men must we gaze through to see real women, well then….
Baradwaj Rangan 
H. Prasanna
January 26, 2020
You re right! And this shows our failure as writers too. Even if the women are just small characters, there seems to be very little work going into writing them. The actions and motivations are rarely analysed from their POV and this reflects a lack of diversity in the assistant director/writer pool as well. Most of the movies men write are underdog narratives of men with convoluted plot mechanisms to absolve them of any responsibility for their inaction in the face of challenges in demand for equality and abuse of their privilege. If we really think about it, there are a lot of plot points about vulnerabilities of men that male writers can be empathetic about in the same stories told on screen about men. Much of this struggle to be a privileged underdog is internal and there is no greater underdog story than a man against his peers, refusing to laugh at misogynistic jokes: your story (and here I am making the worst mistake of assuming your gender!). Even if scores of men do write about men, if they write about these vulnerabilities (as an audience stand-in, Deus ex machina, anything), the same stories would be so much better to see on screen. There is an unquestionable rise in demand for better representation of all genders and it will happen. But if male writers don’t try to redeem themselves before that, our suffering at the movies will grow surely.
Read this on rogerebert.com’s review of Suspiria: But maybe that’s Guadagnino’s point in incorporating outside troubles into this intense, insular tale: Men got us into the problems that plague the world. Women can get us out—but that liberation comes at a cost.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Anu Warrier
January 26, 2020
This was an interesting, well-articulated, and much needed read. And that’s the problem I have with so many – on paper – interesting characters: they are written through the male gaze and on screen, have as much personality as paper dolls.
Just as he had carefully chiseled away every imperfection till stone turned into a perfect idol, he scrupulously scolded his wife for every imperfection till she fell into a permanent coma, attaining perfection as only a lifeless stone can.
That’s a brilliant line.
And your point about the men sculpting imperfections away until the most perfect idol is all that’s left is telling – it’s only in the realm of religion, fiction or fantasy that [most? many?] men can accept a woman – she, after all, has no flaws.
LikeLiked by 2 people
AdhithyaKR
January 26, 2020
Excellent article. A trend which I noticed as of late is that of glorifying male actors because they pick supposedly feminist movies, like Nerkonda Parvai or Bigil or Kanaa. Whether those portrayals of woman-power are actually what women want to see on screen is one thing, but why can’t we just show real women who are not beacons for social hope of some kind? Like H.Prasanna mentioned above, we would start seeing changes only when even small characters in cinema are written well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Madan
January 27, 2020
” but why can’t we just show real women who are not beacons for social hope of some kind?” – I agree, but this is also not straightforward. Gillian Flynn fielded complaints that she was a misogynist because apparently none of her female characters were ‘positive’. There is a long way to go before the deleterious effects of the patriarchal view can be completely eliminated from cinema or indeed from art.
LikeLike
Karthik
January 28, 2020
Thanks, Prasanna, Anu and Adhithya.
shows our failure as writers too. Even if the women are just small characters, there seems to be very little work going into writing them.
we would start seeing changes only when even small characters in cinema are written well.
I agree. Our movies do seem to undervalue writing (characters). Really good actors can bring something on screen despite that, but it shouldnt have to be that way.
it’s only in the realm of religion, fiction or fantasy that [most? many?] men can accept a woman – she, after all, has no flaws.
I dont know if you’ve read V. S. Ramachandran’s Tell-Tale brain; he talks about the design of female sculptures and idols and the neuroscientific interpretation of art. Although he doesnt explicitly mention it, a lot of what he describes about art transcending reality (in the context of Indian sculptures) could very well be interpreted as an expression of the male gaze
LikeLiked by 1 person
Varsha Ganesh
January 28, 2020
Enjoyed reading this article. I genuinely felt like Iraivi was feminist in that it made an explicit show of viewing the characters through the male gaze and making us wince, recognizing the injustice and horror of that view.
I wonder – what makes a movie feminist? Is it letting its women be, as fully fleshed out realistic characters (the women in Kaala come to mind) instead of pandering to any particular gaze (be it the male gaze or the older much married women gaze that Jotika seems to be doing these days)? Or is it having its women intentionally override societal rules – like a 90 mL or a Taramani? Does it still count as feminist if this overriding societal rules comes with consequences and stars like Ajith have to come in and educate the society as to why we need to be better?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Karthik
January 29, 2020
Thanks, Varsha.
I agree that there’s no one kind of feminist movie. I also don’t think this particular movie shouldn’t be called a feminist movie even if I do find the tag to be a bit subversive, for a few reasons: The women were accorded far lesser screen time compared to the men. The men were the drivers of the story. And even in the end when the women were “freed” it was an outcome of the men’s actions and decisions.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Anu Warrier
January 29, 2020
Karthik, I haven’t, so thanks for the recommendation.
we would start seeing changes only when even small characters in cinema are written well.
That was something that Raj Kapoor did so well in his earlier films. Even a beggar on the street in Shri 420 was well-fleshed out. I also see that in some of the more recent Hindi films, peopled by actors like Seema and Manoj Pahwa, Pankaj Tripathi, etc.
LikeLike
Apu
January 30, 2020
I so loved this piece – so nuanced and sensitive.
Not sure if the labeling of woman as a “Goddess or a whore” is particular to Tamil Cinema to the mentality of many Indians (and maybe other countries too). When I tell people that on Women’s Day, all I want is to be treated like a person, with the usual dreams, defects, attributes as any other person, they do not understand.
Varsha: I wonder – what makes a movie feminist?
Me too. Is there anything that we can dub as a “feminist” movie? In Hindi, “Veere Di Wedding” was touted as this “liberated woman” movie when it was actually centered around friendship and acceptance. This particular term basically translates to “women who swear, smoke/drink and have sex” on screen.
LikeLiked by 1 person
krishikari
January 30, 2020
Good article. I also loved that phrase “…he scrupulously scolded his wife for every imperfection…” brilliant, feels like an R.K Narayan story starting!
The man is always the subject when he is always the artist. Women have also learned to view everything with a male gaze, that’s the saddest part. The whatsapp jokes you mention also get forwarded by aunties not just uncles.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Karthik
January 31, 2020
Thanks, Apu and krishikari.
The man is always the subject when he is always the artist.
In this context, based on the evidence, hard to disagree.
LikeLike