Fatherhood On Screen, À La Mammootty

Fatherhood, À La Mammootty

Over his career, the superstar has deftly essayed a variety of fathers on screen, each a different sort of parent.

NATIONAL AWARD-winning critic CS Venkiteswaran, in his book Udalintey Thara Sancharangal, equated Mammootty to Lord Rama and Mohanlal to Sri Krishna, to emphasise how they are etched in the minds of their audiences. A lot of it comes from the kind of roles the two superstars were saddled with in their ‘80s and ‘90s.

If some of Mohanlal’s best-known roles showcased him as this flawed, irresponsible, playful, guy-next-door beset with unemployment and instability, Mammootty essayed dense characters often shrouded in pathos and held accountable for others. That’s one reason why on the popularity charts, Mohanlal always had an advantage over Mammootty. If one seemed endearing and accessible, the other appeared stern and distant. That almost meant certain roles fitted seamlessly with Mammootty’s image and of course, the actor added multidimensional layers to them.

That’s why whenever Mammootty plays a father, it invariably tugs at our heartstrings, in various capacities. The depth he adds, the pathos that is emitted from his eyes, and the internalisation process that occurs every time, make it understandable why Tamil film director Ram patiently waited almost a decade for the actor to play his Amudhavan in Peranbu (2019).

Stream 'Peranbu'

PATRIARCH ACT

In Essaying Fatherhood, Mammootty's Gifts As An Actor Are Revealed

By Neelima Menon

Amudhavan is quietly pursuing a job in the Middle East, till a letter from his wife — who has been single-handedly taking care of their spastic child — shakes him up. She has done her bit, has found love again, and asks him to take care of their daughter. As an aside, the narrative empathises with her predicament and is careful not to judge her. So Amudhavan is forced to familiarise himself with his teenage daughter who isn’t happy with the situation. He is helpless, dejected, and struggling to understand his hostile daughter. And though he wins her over, it is as much as he can do to grapple with the reality of his daughter’s sexual needs and his own incapacity to help her understand them. The actor simply dissolves into Amudhavan, bringing forth the vulnerabilities of a single father who is struggling to survive every single day, with such nuance that you feel every emotion flitting across his face. There are instances when the actor breaks your heart, though not necessarily in sections that are emotionally high-strung. Like one scene where he tries to thaw the ice between them by breaking into an awkward jig, or a bit when he anxiously rescues a bird just to see his daughter happy.

Three decades ago, the actor portrayed a father who could have simplified Amudhavan’s journey with his exemplary compassion: Dr Padmanabhan in Padmarajan’s Nombarathipoovu (1987). Padmanabhan would have been such a reassuring presence for the lost Amudhavan. He runs a school for special children and is also the father of one. Here is a doctor who feels a kinship with special children and has this uncanny knack to put them at ease within a few minutes. His dedication and compassion cannot be more eloquent when he nearly loses his cool with Padmini (Madhavi) for suggesting that the school should have a sign board. “Do you want me to exhibit their disability?” he snarls at her. Mammootty inhabits the doctor with such ease that the compassion never looks manufactured. The anger at those who don’t understand the children, the kindness that shines in his eyes when he interacts with them, and those bursts of happiness when they finish a task — sublime!

The fathers in the Ratheena-directed Puzhu (2022) and Renjith Sankar's Varsham (2014) can be categorised as toxic. What’s different is in their layering. Outwardly they appear to be loving and caring but in reality, both are tyrannical and overprotective. If Kuttan’s toxicity is not whitewashed, Venu reaps the seeds of his deeds. What’s sad is Kuttan’s ignorance of his own inadequacies and Mammootty reshuffles his craft as he slips into the character. Some of the subtle expressions for instance — the pain and disbelief when his son declares his hatred for him, or the abject fear the father creates in the child with his mere presence or a glance... The body language of a man who lives within the limits of his own caste biases and regressive thinking. While he handles Venu with a sense of drama, Mammootty is yet superbly in control. Venu, like Kuttan, has a foundation that’s mostly patriarchal and regressive. That explains his attitude towards his son. That look of sheer loathing when his neighbour hands over sweets for his son’s academic win is the actor giving it his all.

In sharp contrast is Vidhyadharan in AK Lohithadas' Bhoothakkannadi (1997), who runs a watch repair shop and has an impaired relationship with reality. A father who is unable to watch his daughter’s ear getting pierced and huddles in a corner of the attic with her soon after he witnesses a death... He is cowardly and yet not for one instance do we feel that it reflects on his parenting. It’s his vulnerability that touches a chord. We know that it is his own inability to fight his inner demons that turns out to be his doom. He loses it from the moment he realises that he couldn’t save his lover’s daughter. Mammootty slips into the complex, derailed, vulnerable world of Vidhyadharan with a meticulousness that’s typical of the actor. As the character evolves, the actor in him peaks, leaving us as emotionally fractured as Vidhyadharan.

In the guise of wanting to see their children flourish in their lives, parents can often be manipulative. Most often it’s about wanting to see their own dreams manifested through their children. In today’s world maybe Achutti in Bharathan's Amaram (1991) can easily be termed a manipulative father. But in his eyes, what he did was sacrifice. A fisherman who struggled to move heaven and earth to see his daughter become a doctor, Achutti chose to remain unmarried. It would have worked like magic if his daughter aligned with his dreams. But it was not meant to be and that leaves him bitter and dejected. In hindsight, both are not wrong, though the narrative chooses to sympathise with Achutti. If three decades later, Achutti continues to be an icon of fatherhood, that has more to do with the perfection Mammootty brought to the character. Look at how impeccably the actor traversed that path — the fisherman slang, his affinity with the sea, imbibing the gait of someone who is used to living on the shore and his unconditional love for his daughter, all land perfectly.

On paper Antony (Joshiiy's Kauravar) and Chandradas (Bharathan's Padheyam) are men who have been kept away from their daughters. If Antony’s situation was not of his making, Chandradas allowed his ego to walk over his fatherly emotions. When you first meet Antony, he is a man simmering with rage and hatred against a cop whom he considers responsible for his family’s annihilation. But the minute he realises that his daughter is alive and has been adopted by the cop, all his hatred vanishes, leaving behind a man bursting with overwhelming love for his daughter. By that account, Chandradas misuses his paternal rights, resurfacing out of his hibernation and demanding his daughter’s custody in court. That he never even went in search of her till then is conveniently left out. On the other hand, while Antony is dealt with all the emotional dexterities of the actor, especially during the passages where the father in him takes over, Mammootty looks ill at ease and stoic (the fake beard doesn’t help) and is perhaps one of his weakest father roles till date.

Balachandran in Fazil's Pappayude Swantham Appoos is perhaps his most relatable dad character. Imperfect, vulnerable, and grappling with his role as a single parent, the interactions between him and his adolescent son, who in turn is greedy for his father’s affections, are beautifully understated. The father knows he isn’t being fair to his son, but can’t get over his wife’s death. That song and dance when the father awkwardly breaks into a jig with his son is one of the cutest father-son bonding moments on screen. Of course, then there are those quintessential Mammootty moments soon after his son’s fatal illness is diagnosed.

What Madhavan shares with the orphaned Gujarati boy in Blessy’s Kazhcha is unfathomable. It takes a while for the villager to wrap his head around this frayed, starving lad who refuses to leave his side. Back home, it is easy to see that Madhavan’s love for the child has manifested into something deeper. When his daughter and the lad are saved from drowning, while his wife and parents fuss over their daughter, it is Madhavan who looks out for the boy. It’s a performance layered with empathy and compassion. And no one could do it with more ease than Mammootty.

Always get the latest reviews. Sign up for our newsletters.

Like what you read? Get more of what you like. Visit the OTTplay website, or download the app to stay up-to-date with news, recommendations and special offers on streaming content.

OUR OTHER NEWSLETTERS

This weekly newsletter compiles a list of the latest (and most important) reviews from OTTplay so you can figure what to watch or ditch over the weekend ahead.

Each week, our editors pick one long-form, writerly piece that they think it worthy of your attention, and dice it into easily digestible bits for you to mull over.

In which we invite a scholar of cinema, devotee of the moving image, to write a prose poem dedicated to their poison of choice. Expect to spend an
hour on this.