What Ails Malaikottai Vaaliban?

Malaikottai Vaaliban's Flaws Are Typical Of A Lijo Jose Pellissery Film

There's a lack of pathos even in the filmmaker's best regarded works, writes Neelima Menon.

MALAIKOTTAI VAALIBAN is straight out of an Amar Chitra Katha tale — a He-Manesque wrestler who can toss away hulks with a flick of his scarf, casually fling about giant cement slabs and thick iron gates, and artfully tip his bulky body on one leg with all the grace of a Kathak dancer. As he travels through various lands, challenging mighty wrestlers, Vaaliban’s lore unravels before us, and yet he never rises above the details.

Even when he torpedoes evil to save the downtrodden, and wins the hearts of damsels, you hardly feel invested in his feats. Nor do you empathise with the man’s emotional trajectory. Despite having an actor of Mohanlal’s prowess breathing life into Vaaliban, he largely remains an aloof presence on screen. Not even during the supposed affecting moments are you able to empathise with the character’s plight. In hindsight, it’s almost a cliché in a Lijo Jose Pellissery film — the abject absence of pathos.

The women in Malaikottai Vaaliban are either objects of affection or objectified — be it Princess Mathangi, with whom Valiban has a brief, passionate dalliance; the willful Jamanthipoovu; or the alluring Rangapattinam Rangarani who desires Valiban and eventually facilitates his downfall.

In Angamaly Diaries, one of his most celebrated works, set in a bustling Central Kerala town, we are privy to a world overrun with testosterone-driven men, needing barely any excuse to engage in random brawls or feasts with meat. The “hero” (Antony Peppe) is an aimless man-child brought up in a patriarchal family. He gets involved with a woman in the hopes of getting a visa to move to Germany. He abhors seeing his girlfriend in modern outfits but seems fine when a woman takes the initiative in a relationship. Even when he calls off a long-term affair, he does so nonchalantly and quickly moves on to another. True, Lilly takes the lead in their relationship but ultimately, the women in Angamaly Diaries are all fastened in the patriarchal space and seem content to negotiate around it.

City of God’s main lead, Jyothilal (Prithviraj Sukumaran), is a criminal who knocks off anyone his friend tells him to. But he develops a soft corner for an actress (Rima Kallingal), who is in an abusive relationship, and chooses to be her saviour. In hindsight, he is that formulaic celluloid hero who hides a compassionate heart behind a cold exterior. The leading woman’s sketch is heavily marred by Kallingal’s weak performance. Otherwise, she is that victimised “meta heroine”, abused and exploited by the men around her.

Solomon (Fahadh Faasil) in Amen often catches sight of his deceased dad, surrounded by angels at church. His dad’s untimely death has taken the zest out of Solomon, and he can’t even play the clarinet after his loss. That renders Solomon into an emasculated figure in front of the villagers. His lover Shoshanna (Swathi Reddy), in sharp contrast, is more enterprising and nearly handholds him throughout their relationship, despite the stiff opposition from her family.

If Jallikattu had an aggressive, hypermasculine leading man who was hell-bent on joining a group of villagers to nab a raging bull, the men in Churuli seemed to have missed an entire cycle of human evolution, defied every moral code, and spoke only profanities. The few women in Jallikattu are domesticated and for the brief time the hero’s girlfriend comes into the picture, she is witness to his toxic masculinity. Women are symbols of vicarious sexual thrills. There is a local healer who seduces men in the guise of carrying out her work. If Jallikattu gets drowned in the grunts and roars of men and beasts, in Churuli it is impossible to separate the man from the beast.

In sharp contrast, many characters resonate with you in his most seminal work to date — Ee. Ma. Yau. Be it Eeshi (Chemban Vinod) who is determined to hold a memorable funeral for his dad, the kindhearted Ayyappan (Vinayakan), or the melodramatic Pennamma, these characters linger on beyond the poignant framing.

In Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam, James (Mammootty) is dogmatic, miserly and grumpy. He eyes everyone suspiciously, deplores any source of entertainment, and needs to have his way. He bullies his family and seems incapable of having fun. And then, when he slips into the boisterous, naïve Tamilian Sundaram (Mammootty) for a day, you would think it is James’ alter-ego. Sundaram is warm, fun-loving, and melodramatic. Typically, Lijo’s infamous tryst with detachment gets in the way of emotionally connecting with James and Sundaram. You are watching this duality like you would watch a play, waiting for James to snap out of his daydream and turn back into his grumbling self. And NNM is Lijo’s quietest film to date.

WHERE TO WATCH:

Angamali Diaries | Ee. Ma. Yau. | Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam | Jallikattu | Churuli

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