There were many who were inspired to follow M T Vasudevan Nair into the screenplay world. But there was only one Padmarajan. Beginning his career as a screenwriter for hire, Padmarajan forged a special bond with director Bharathan before going on to helm movies himself. In addition to his screenplays Padmarajan was a prolific writer with many novels and short stories to his credit.
He was widely lauded for his variety, his ability to straddle genres. No two Padmarajan movies are the same. Well, to an extent they were different, but still had common threads. He explored sex in a time when the word didn’t exist in the public’s dictionary. He brought a realistic aesthetics, without falling into the art movie trap. He championed the ordinary man in extraordinary situations. And his endings were unexpected, but didn’t have extreme twists.
Padmarajan’s was truly a life cut short cruelly. He passed away at the ridiculously young age of 45. Even then, his body of work stands out like a beacon amongst average stories and safe screenplays. Without dwelling on what might have been, I will celebrate the what was.
Prayanam (The Voyage) 1975
Cast: Lakshmi, Mohan Sharma, Kottarakkara Sreedharan Nair, Kaviyoor Ponnamma
Director: Bharathan
(YouTube)
Few combinations in Malayalam cinema were as close to perfection as Bharathan and Padmarajan. It feels just right that the two made their debut together on this movie.
We begin with a Brahmin wedding. Savithrikutty (Lakshmi), the daughter of a poor Namboothiri is being married off to an elderly temple priest (Kottarakkara), a widower with a young son. After the initial few days the age difference raises its head and the priest starts to spend more time in the temple. A young man Aravindan (Sharma) comes to a nearby house and sparks fly even in the most traditional of places. It was only a matter of time before the priest discovers the affair, and he reacts in expected ways. But that is only the first part.
Kottarakkara showcases astounding range with very few words. His metamorphosis from a coy groom about to enter a physical relationship after a long time to a weary old man, content with his lot, to his righteous indignation at what he perceives an unforgivable sin, are understated, yet powerful. Mohan Sharma, a poor man’s Kamal Hassan, is adequate without being extraordinary. He is a great looker, but can’t quite pull off the intellectual vibe. (Fun fact: He became famous playing against Lakshmi in Chattakkari the previous year. He became even more famous after being married to Lakshmi for a few years!)
The movie, however, belongs to Lakshmi. Starting off as a mischievous young girl who is bewildered by her marriage, she smoothly moves into a young woman thirsting for passion in her life. She brilliantly emotes both the sadness at realising her folly and the helplessness when her mind and body won’t let her get out of it. The way she lets herself go in the love scenes, and the vulnerability she brings to the screen are stunning.
Padmarajan’s screenplay deftly sidesteps the obvious, all the way to the ending. Bharathan, the director, shows great skill and sensitivity in capturing beauty. The surprising cinematography credit of Balu Mahendra led to a delightful discovery that the Tamil auteur started his career as a cinematographer in Malayalam movies.
Prayanam begins as a questioning of traditional practices and the relevance of religion. It soon moves into the affairs of the heart and the body that houses it. It will be called revolutionary even this day. I wonder how many feathers it ruffled in 1975.
Itha Ivide Vare (Just Ahead) 1977
Cast: M.G Soman, Madhu, Jayabharathi, Vidhubala, Kaviyoor Ponnamma, Bahadhur, K.P Ummer, Sharadha, Adoor Basi, Jayan
Director: I.V. Sasi
(YouTube)
Vishwanathan (Soman), a young man with a troubled past comes to a small village in the backwaters. Claiming to be an artist who liked the location and wanted to work, he manages to get an abandoned house – Valiparambil Veedu – for rent. Through flashbacks we find that the house was his own and something violent happened there during his childhood. Vishwanathan has come back home. He has also come back for revenge.
While the hero coming back to his roots after years is a familiar trope in Malayalam movies, this is probably one of the earliest and most famous. Padmarajan’s screenplay does not take the easy road. In fact, it is downright frustrating, at times. The hero wants revenge, but he does not know exactly how. The violence of the past had its genesis in sex, so his revenge also needed that crutch. But would he be able to do that?
From a distance Vishwanathan is the hero and Paili (Madhu) is the villain. But even in those days Padmarajan refused to pigeon-hole himself. During the course of the movie you realise how much the two become closer in terms of behaviour until one can pass off for the other.
I. V. Sasi, the prolific director of the 70s and 80s, had made a name for himself as one who knew the people’s pulse. I am not his biggest fan, but then I am in the minority. Sasi couldn’t bring himself to cast non-familiar faces even in minor roles. His movies were multi-starrers before the term existed. Here also there is a huge call sheet that included Adoor Bhasi and Bahadur (the Laurel and Hardy of Malayalam cinema), Jayan, K. P Ummer, Jayabharathi, Vidhubala and Meena. The versatile Sharadha is unfortunately confined to a tiny role.
Among the performances the standouts are Madhu, in a rare negative role, and Jayabharathi who has the least theatrical of roles. The internet says that this is the movie that cemented Soman’s leading man status, but it is not anything extraordinary.
My main issue with Sasi is he tends to dumb down the movies to the lowest denominator. He has done that to some of MT’s scripts. But strangely enough he seems to have left in most of Padmarajan’s ground-breaking twists. This is probably one of the miniscule number of movies where a main character has sex out of wedlock and the same does not lead to a pregnancy. The male character involved actually checks this with her later!
This is still not vintage Padmarajan, who closes all plot holes. But we can see a young writer who does not want to exist in the status quo. One who has stories to tell and clichés to upend. Itha Ivide Vare is a fascinating early milestone.
Rathinirvedam (Adolescent Desire) 1978
Cast: Jayabharathi, Krishnachandran, KPAC Lalitha, Kaviyoor Ponnamma, M.G Soman, Adoor Basi, Bahadur, Meena
Director: Bharathan
(YouTube)
We have seen that one of Padmarajan’s themes in his movies was sex. At a time when the only discussions of sex in movies were via skin flicks, Padmarajan brought it into the mainstream, but never in a voyeuristic way. He wanted his viewers to have a dialogue about sex. And then you have Bharathan, the best Indian director of sensuality on screen. At least, among those I have seen. (I will go as far to say that if you see Bharathan’s movies then you will call out the great Raj Kapoor for what he really was – a dirty old man!) After Prayanam, audiences were eagerly awaiting the next joint venture by the two friends. They surely couldn’t disappoint.
Well, Rathinirvedham came like a tsunami and swept aside the Malayali’s innocence, so to say. I remember asking about the movie when I was a kid and getting stoic silence as answer. We just won’t talk about it. After all, how could a movie with an Adults Only rating be anything good? Sex didn’t exist in 70s Kerala. Marriages were arranged by elders, the husband will be a few years elder to the wife, and God would give the couple the first kid within a year. Anything that did not follow this dictum was blasphemy.
Into that sea of sin waded Padmarajan and Bharathan. Taking us along. Pappu (Krishnachandran) is a young boy who completed his 10th and was getting ready for college. This would put him in the 15-16 age group. He stayed with his mother (Ponnamma), aunt (Lalitha), siblings and cousins. His days were mostly spent cycling to the village library. Their neighbours were a retired armyman (Bhasi), his widowed sister (Meena) and her daughter Rathi (Jayabharathi), who is in her twenties. The families are close and all the kids, including Pappu, adored Rathi.
Pappu was entering adolescence. While his time was mostly with his cousins, he realises that he is no longer a kid. A chance remark by one of the other youngsters makes him look at Rathi with very different eyes. It took Rathi a while to realise that he is not the innocent young kid that he was. But, by then, things started taking a turn for the worse. Pappu’s infatuation was no longer secret. The families got to know and things turned sour. Things would be sorted out soon when Pappu would go to college and stay in the hostel. But no one had counted on Rathi’s feelings.
Krishnachandran makes an assured debut in a very complex role. KPAC Lalitha, who was married to Bharathan, and Kaviyoor Ponnamma make the most of their limited opportunities. The child artistes are excellent. Soman, Bhasi and Bahadur have bit roles. Ultimately, Rathinirvedam is Rathi’s movie. Jayabharathi carries the film in a fearless performance. Beginning as fun-loving girl, moving to a smouldering siren and then as a vulnerable woman caught between her conflicting feelings, Jayabharathi runs the gamut of emotions. She may have been typecast as the sexy heroine not afraid to show skin in Malayalam cinema of 70s and 80s, but Rathinirvedam will probably be her crowning glory.
Shot at the picturesque hills of Nelliampathi by Malayalam cinema’s best-known cinematographer Ramachandra Babu, Rathinirvedam was probably what started the phrase ‘Bharathan Touch’, which referred to Bharathan’s unique style of having gorgeous visuals support the story he was saying.
It may have stirred a hornet’s nest during its release, and more than half of its audience were just there to see Jayabharathi. But, make no mistake, Rathinirvedam is a bona fide landmark in Malayalam movies. It has stunningly stood the test of time. In the West it may have been just another coming-of-age movie, but in the milieu it came out, there was nothing like it. Forty years later, it still feels like a minor miracle.
Peruvazhiyambalam (The Roadside Inn) 1979
Cast: Ashokan, KPAC Azeez, Bharat Gopi, KPAC Lalitha, Jose Prakash, Sukumari
Director: Padmarajan
(YouTube)
Oh, masculinity! What would cinema do without it? What would we do without it?
The image in most of our minds of a caveman is of a rugged man dragging a woman by the hair. The misogynistic view is perpetrated over the existence of humanity across arts and life. Cinema is no different. Popular cinema across the world thrived on the demigod of the hero who ‘powers’ the story with his brute strength. Women are just scenery. Woe to any female who would dare look back. They would be soon put in place with a little necessary violence.
Into this milieu, walks in one of Malayalam’s bravest story-tellers, with his directorial debut, Peruvazhiyambalam, an adaptation of his novel of the same name. He turns the cult of machismo on its head with an urgent, unapologetic dynamite of a movie. A searing gaze into both the male gaze and the crowd psyche. How we view violence, both with disgust and awe.
Prabhakara Pillai (Azeez) is released from prison. He was serving time for rape. He is coming back to his village and he has a few scores to settle. Especially with the girl’s brother who raised the complaint with the police. The villagers follow his every move. Scared to interfere, scared that they might miss out.
Raman (Ashokan) is a teenage boy who lives with his two sisters. His father used to be an acquaintance of Pillai. But now with him dead, all Pillai has eyes for are the two preys right in front of his eyes. What can Raman do to protect his siblings?
The local temple festival. Raman takes his sisters to watch the fun. He tries to avoid Pillai, but ultimately has a confrontation. A timid, well-meaning boy enters the fight. An angry, confused boy comes out. He has not become a man. But he has changed.
Peruvazhiyambalam highlights two incredible performances by actors who never got such characters again in their career. Ashokan’s debut is astounding. He oscillates between an angry youth and a simple kid, both of whom are within him. For someone who never acted before, this is a revelatory portrayal. Azeez is a familiar face for those who watched movies in the 80s and 90s. He is the guy you instantly recognise, but do not recall the name of. An actual policeman, he has donned the uniform countless times. Mostly as a coward or a minor villain. But I have never seen him inspire raw fear like he has here. The compelling walk, the leering look, the territory-marking paan-spitting, all build up to an almost demonic personality. Until he enters home and starts playing with his son.
Jose Prakash, Bharat Gopi and KPAC Lalitha essay characters that are familiar, yet stand out. The main performers are a few. Whenever the crowd gathers, they are almost a faceless entity, egging on the inevitable. Secure in their impotence, yet unable to tear themselves away.
For his debut, Padmarajan decided to go the art route. He knew he had an amazing source. After all, he wrote and published it to great acclaim. Shooting it in black and white, despite colour gaining popularity, was a masterstroke. We are not distracted by the colours, and the visuals are more stark. The editing is busy, giving a feverish pace to the movie. The action scenes are anything but. The main confrontation is more of a study in facial expressions than in any attempt to glamourise it.
With Peruvazhiyambalam, Padmarajan announced, in no uncertain way, that he was there to stay in the director’s chair. He would still write scripts for others, he would move more mainstream, but his would be the movie Malayalis would wait for year after year.
Kochu Kochu Thettukal (Minor mistakes) 1980
Cast: Sukumaran, Shuba, K P Ummer, Hema Chaudhary, Innocent, Sukumari,
Director: Mohan
(CD, YouTube)
Sometimes, a name can mean so much more. Looking back after 40 years, Kochu Kochu Thettukal is more literal than Padmarajan probably intended it to be.
A young honeymooning couple Ravi (Sukumaran) and Lata (Chaudhary) are in a Thekkadi guest house. There they interact with the next-door neighbours Mr and Mrs Panicker (Ummer and Shuba). Something about the young couple doesn’t jell and Mrs Panicker guesses right. But then Mrs Panicker has some secrets of her own.
What begins as a well-trodden story suddenly comes alive with a startling revelation. It’s a Padmarajan story, after all. But it is all downhill after that. It culminates in a really bad climax. That the concept of living together without marriage was explored 40 years ago in Malayalam is startling. There was a good story somewhere, about the ‘keep’ and the men that keep. But this is not that story.
Sukumaran essays the likeable rogue to extremely good effect. Shuba has the best and most complex role. Kudos to Padmarajan for writing such a well-rounded role. Ummer and Sukumari provide ample support. The former steps out of his villainous wheelhouse to play a slightly deeper character.
Mohan was one of the prolific directors in the 80s. He was unapologetically mainstream, like I V Sasi. He made a lot of movies that people saw, but rarely remembered for long. That was my thought when I saw the credits before the movie. It is easy to explain this away as a less-talented director screwing up a script by someone bigger than him. But, no. Kochu Kochu Thettukal really is a mistake in Padmarajan’s oeuvre, the likes of which I hope I don’t encounter much in my journey through his early films.
