Why ‘Halal Love Story’ will be haram for the right wingers
Halal Love Story, now streaming on Amazon Prime, is a simple, small film with a larger ambition. And that can be troublesome for many, especially those who choose to read between the lines.
For one, its writers — Zakariya Mohammed and Muhsin Parari — are perceived as cultural warriors of Jamaat-e-Islami (Zakariya was a member of Jamaat-e-Islamic Hind and boycotted the 2019 National Film Award, which he won for his debut film, Sudani from Nigeria, in protest against the Citizens Amendment Bill).
Parari too is vocal about his stance, calling out Malayalis for their chauvinism and casteism. They are Muslims, they associate with radicals like Ashiq Abu, not loved for his left-wing views and equally hated for his wife Rima Kallingal, a self-proclaimed feminist, her feminism, in her own admission, having ‘started with a fish fry.’
In today’s judgmental India, where all Hindus are Sanghis and all Muslims ‘must go to Pakistan’, to make a film from the undiluted, uncinematic and unsanitised Muslim milieu is not easy. That just alone need not make Halal Love Story praiseworthy because it is like congratulating Priyadarshan for making another all-Nair film.
As much as Priyadarshan told his absurd comedies from a milieu he knew and grew up in (Thiruvananthapuram, with its decadent Nairs and a socio-cultural milieu far removed from Zakariya and Muhsin’s Malappuram), it is only natural that the duo — to be intellectually honest to the medium of cinema — would dig into their own roots for inspiration.
The point is: Halal Love Story does not need any considerations as many liberals seem in a hurry to do; some say they enjoyed the film because it served as a spoof; others need to underline that the film goes very much against Jamaat by exposing the hypocrisy of some of its activists). This also seems to be an underlining conviction in the way many of Malayalam film reviewers have approached Halal Love Story, effusive in their praise because that is the politically correct thing to do.
After all, there are no nuetral grounds anymore in India. Which is why Murali Gopy, the writer of Ee Adutha Kaalathu, Left Right Left and the smash-hit Lucifer, is branded as a Sanghi, accused of smuggling in right-wing views, and Zakariya and Muhsin become unabashed celebrants of the Jamaat-al-Islami ideology. Between the two extremes, for liberals, claps come from bashing ‘Sanghis’ and praising others.
Imagine this: What if a Hindu group (and there are dime a dozen of them) decide to make a film, adopting the very same approach of Zakariya and Muhsin and “does not romanticize or condone the conservatism”, will Anna AM Vetticad give the film a thumbs up as she does for Halal Love Story? After all, we live in a time when Padmarajan’s Thinkalazcha Nalla Divasam is now being panned for its casteist overtures.
The thing is you cannot have two standards when it comes to appreciating cinema. You can neither bring your prejudices and assumptions, as you do with Murali and Priyadarshan, nor be blatantly obsequious when it comes to other side because frankly in art, as the film itself says, you cannot build borders for imagination. (Btw, read this, if you want to know why Murali is not a Sanghi).
For all the criticism of Malayalam films of the 80s, such as the Araam Thamburans and Narasimhams for glorifying Hindu symbols, the fact remains that we watched those films when our collective mindset was still uncorrupted to see films as ‘Hindu’ and ‘Muslim.’
In a Hindu-dominated Kerala, how would a Prem Nazir or Mammootty or Dulquer Salman have become heartthrobs if all Malayalis looked at cinema through the prism of religion?
Up until the advent of filmmakers who claimed themselves to be Dalits, and progressives poring over surnames (with people like Parvathy making a big deal out of it), I believe that a large majority of Keralites hardly cared about religio-casteist differences in cinema.
Halal Love Story has opened the very possibility of ‘Hindu’ and ‘Muslim’ cinemas; that it is not the fault of Zakariya or Muhsin; it just shows how deeply divided we are becoming; it highlights the level of intolerance we are being exposed to, which is why it important to see ‘Halal Love Story’ as just cinema and view it without the prejudices we are increasingly taking home to bed.
My personal take on the film is that it is a well-made telefilm, at best, stretching needlessly, grappling at no hook, not going into-depth into anything in particular, harping on irrelevant frames (like the needless focus on the sound recordist’s eccentricities), and pretty much, ending with saying nothing — other than the fact that it is not easy for a conservative religious order to make a film that will make it viewable for (Jamaat) homes.
The film’s true strength: Powerful performances by Indrajith, who must have struggled to be the bad actor he enacts on-screen; Grace Antony (fantastic in some of the heart-stirring moments in the latter half), Joju George (as always, brilliant) and my personal favourites, Abhiram Radhakrishan (the assistant director) and Nazar Karutheny (an amazing actor who plays Rahim Saheb).
But contrast Halal Love Story with films that come out of Saudi Arabia, the heart of conservative Wahhabism, such as Wadjda or outstanding works of art such as by Palestinian director Hany Abu-Assad, and having watched at least 30 odd short films made by young Saudis for professional reasons, the irony is palpable.
To conclude: Give Halal Love Story a break; don’t drag it in for Twitter battles about the political views of its makers, producers or crew but watch it for a simple tale that has a spirit of underlining honesty be it mired in religion, and for the right of its makers to create films of milieus they understand best.
