How often do you see a satire on
class-divisions firmly focused on the tragedy of the underbelly being left
out of the success story of LPG (Liberalization, privatization and globalization)
and still break into laughter every now and then even as you have a lingering
sense of pathos tingling in your belly? ‘Kaaka Muttai’ manages to do just that,
and how!
The film begins with the unapologetic
and nonchalant portrayal of the shock elements of life in a busy slum near
Saidapet, Chennai, whose life-as-usual is unimaginable for the Cineplex-hungry appetite
of the typical urban audience – a kid urinating in his sleep prevents the
liquid downpour from reaching his grandmother’s skin just in time, by using the
t-shirt he had been wearing, which, wet, gets promptly hidden in a kitchen utensil
kept nearby. Scene after scene, the director drives home painful realities into the consciousness of the viewer without crying hoarse or going overboard
about it. Young kids ingenuously steal crow eggs to supplement nutrition needs
even as they 'helpfully' leave one of the three eggs for the poor crow... Realities the 24x7 media frenzy doesn’t care to
cover as newsworthy, leaving us in shall we say, a truth shadow (like a rain shadow).
And what do you expect these 'ah-so-poor, downtrodden' to do when they earn extra money through back-breaking effort or get brand
new Levi’s clothes through rare ingenuity (bartered for pani-puri with spoilt
kids)? To unduly value it and spend it wisely? Nah, the boys
have a distinct disdain for hoarding. Once the purpose is reached (or lost), they just
treat things or money as another thing... Money that is so carefully earned for
pizza is simply handed over to the local goon who demands more money than their
mother can afford, for the grandmother’s funeral. The branded clothes are
promptly washed under the foot as other clothes would have!
For a debutant, Manikandan does a
great job in meticulously paying attention to detail, and never letting the
audience feel let down. The film is 109 minutes of ‘poignant fun’ – the kind of
fun that makes you laugh even as you feel guilty that you are participants in a
world that is so unjustifiably unequal, a world where beneath the veneer of glitz and glamour
is infinite selfishness and greed. The owner of the pizza shop transforms into
a messiah who offers the kids free pizza for life, when cameras are rolling and
the world is watching. Do we need greater proof of hypocrisy, we are made to
wonder.
The music blends
beautifully into the film and Manikandan doesn’t let it take over the film. The
background score has a certain freshness that is relevant to the scenes –
flippant on the surface but deep and intense. The art director has also done a great
job - creating a set around an actual slum and making things seamless. Hats
off to the screenplay and the script-writing for being taut and intense.
Cinematography is great too. The mundane is made to look miraculous, and the wide angles and the close-up shots orchestrate
to create a reality that we suddenly realise is a film at a forced interval and
again only when the film ends.
But if the film stands out as
extraordinary, a large part of the credit should go to two things. Firstly, it
is the characterization of the film. A dozen small characters neatly enter and
join the kaleidoscope to add brilliance and a certain fullness to the plot. Secondly, it is outstanding acting,
especially that of the two boys, their mother, grandmother and their railways
friend. The boys have a certain casualness about them that doesn’t seem forced
at all. Which young boy can you get to simply remain innocuous with a camera
rolling right next to his face? The younger of the boys – Ramesh has a twinkle
in his eye that is innocence personified. And even if he’s slapped by his brother,
the reaction is not of anger but surprise. The bond of the two brothers and the
love they share with their mother and grandmother (Aaya) is heart-warming. No
ill-feelings, no jealousy, no questions about why to share. The only discordant
note as far as kinship is concerned is when the elder boy says he wants a
mobile (or is it pizza?) and not his father out of jail. If there are two eggs
to be eaten, one goes to either – no questions asked. If there is one dosa (pseudo-pizza)
or pizza to be eaten, it is to be shared – no territoriality or possessiveness
in sight. Iyshwarya as the mother is brilliant. To take up such a non-glamorous
role is a challenge in the film industry. The grandmother endears us to herself and
puts the priorities of life in perspective for her daughter-in-law. The family
is a unit – no saas-bahu stuff here, as if that is a middle-class
preoccupation.
Everyone who wields power - politicians,
the media, businesspersons - stands exposed, and the section of society that
is kept at the margins is shown to be humane, the ideal that each one of us should
be. The pizza becomes a metaphor for the haves and ‘kaaka muttai’ (crow eggs)
for the have-nots. Why is the former sought after and the latter scorned at?
The boys drive a point home when at last they eat the much-sought-after slice
of pizza, and then exclaim that the aaya’s dosa had tasted better. The ad-driven world
we run after crumbles as hollow make-believe. Could the disgusting-looking indigenous be better than the inevitable-looking import?
The film ‘Kaaka Muttai’ troubles
you with more than a few questions about the world we live in.
