Oru Thekkan Thallu Case offers
a splendid slice of southern Kerala
Grassroots storytelling is a challenge, and Kerala’s filmmakers are excelling in the art, taking audiences through interesting pathways, but not without precedent.
Malayalam cinema’s all-time greats, Aravindan, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Padmarajan, KG George and Bharathan, have explored the complex subtexts of rural Kerala with such flourish that attributing the ‘going local to be global’ to the new wave of Lijo Jose Pallisseri et al, is not only flawed but also a gross injustice to the masters.
Technology might have altered the craft of how films are made, but what effective grassroots storytelling — as Angamali Diaries and more recently Thallumaala — proved recently is that no matter the lingos and slangs, films connect when they are honest, and true to the bone.
Add to that list Our Thekkan Thallu Case, not a colourful wicked slap fest like Thallumaala, but as rooted in rustic idioms, and presenting the down south so long ignored by filmmakers.
Literature is no exception when it comes to the south being less exposed. There are just a few notable storytellers who have focused on their pen on the region. The most vocal was G Vivekanandan, whose novels-turned-films Kallichellamma and Arikaari Ammu, captured the idiosyncrasies of southerners, albeit with broad brushstrokes of melodrama.
Murali Gopy captured a part of the pulse in Ee Adutha Kaalathu and even Left Right Right, and I bet, there is more in store from him.
But cinema from the south of Kerala have largely meant, for the majority, Suraj Venjaramoodu and his borderline vulgar abuse of the lingo, cementing stereotypical notions.
Oru Thekkan Thallu Case is no parody of the south; it is original, because it is based on a story by GR Indugopan, one of the few contemporary writers, who has explored the psyche of ‘southerners’, dipping into myths, anecdotes and stories, including our own ‘California Gold Rush’ — as people dug up large chunks of land in and around Ayilam, seeking ‘Cat’s Eye hauls.’
A fantastic writer, who is adept at creating parallel universes, such as Detective Prabhakaran, Indugopan builds a deftly crated world of Amminipillai, a lighthouse keeper, in his work, Amminipillai Vettu Case, the source material for the film.
The film is set in Anjuthengu (Angengo), though for puritanical residents, Anjuthengu, in real life, is a wholly different world.
Amminipillai might easily have fit in the territory of Chirayinkeezhu or Kadakkavur, even some rural outflings of Attingal and Varkala, but not Anjuthengu, although we can take it as fictional liberties.
There is another very minor grumble against the film: The SKV bus that plies thorugh Amminipillai’s Universe, which in my fading memory has never been red — but a green- and yellow (just as RKV was a black and white).
Another gripe is about the mention of bringing goons from Attingal to Anjuthengu, when in all probability, it would have been the other way.
I digress and move forward in eagerness because I loved Oru Thekkan Thallu Maala, and also because this is not a review.
Increasingly, I realise the folly of reviewing films; at best our role must be to direct people to help appreciate a film — whether they like it or not is a personal choice.
So, in Oru Thekkan Thallu Case, what stands out is the absolute attention to details — be it in the body language of the cast, the succinct, punchy and devilish dialogues (that southerners would effortlessly identify) and the production design.
As you watch the film, a faded leaf from memory comes to life — the shops with those wooden planks, the goli soda bottles — and where I gave the most marks — the kanakambara flowers that the women use to adorn their hair — such a quintessential Attingal thing, an influence of the Tamil brahmins who have been part and parcel of our lives.
A simple story of a bruised ego leading to a series of innocent fights, Oru Thekkan Thallu Case stands out because of its character sketches. There are no black and white shades. There are no laborious efforts to be politically correct (as today’s filmmakers seem to be hell bound on). And there are abundant ambiguities in every character in exactly the way human beings are and will be.
Biju Menon in the lead role as Amminipillai strips off his Trichur dialect — as well as his body language — while Roshan Mathew is the cocky southerner to the core. The smirks, the misplaced anger, the snide comments he makes — that is something southerners know by instinct. We live through it (or we have).
It is hard to say who outsmarted the other — Padmapriya or Nimisha Sajayan — and we are gifted a film where the protagonists are defined as much by their gender as by their innate boldness. Terrific is an understatement to describe the two — in the way they dress with the least bit of self-consciousness and the way they carry themselves.
Oru Thekkan Thallu Case did remind of the Premier Padmini series and even Othalanga Thuruthu, especially in how the supporting characters are shaped.
Akhil Kavalayur brings out his sharp sarcasm, that universal demeaning of everyone, which only southerners get in its true form, with Azeez Nedumangadu and the whole gang you get to see in the series gelling in so well into the narrative.
Our Thekkan Thallu Case, directed by Sreejith N, and lusciously shot, is not just what you see; it has rich subtexts in its characters that bring out the less-said story of south Kerala. Watch it for a delightful experience.
The film is now playing on Netflix.
