Malayalam cinema is known for depicting contemporary social realities. It has been mostly influenced by the political and social themes of the times which have resulted in films catering to the dominant ideology – political, economic, or social. However, Malayalam cinema entered a slump in the first decade of the millennium. It longed for a change, similar to the “new wave” of the 1980s, which was dominated by the ideas of capitalism and liberalism.
Now, the shift from the larger theme of politics and the upper caste culture, roles written for the larger than life characters and subservient to the superstar cult – to the narration of realistic and contemporary life stories about the livelihood and spaces on the edge, which captiously portrayed the normalized norms of society, bring subjects like masculinity, patriarchy, sexuality in the discussion. This transition to the new generation of cinema – came about in the 2010s.
The change in the themes, however, being the most dramatic shift needs to be analyzed through different lenses. One of the most interesting elements of these films is the portrayal of various shades of masculinities, which in their own way manipulate the norms of the overarching system of patriarchy. At the same time, the political lens enables one to evaluate how this change in the illustration of masculinities connects to the larger theme of politics. The roles of the new protagonists are entrenched with complexities of human nature which testify to the changing gender norms of Malayalam society.
To understand the transition in the nature of Malayalam cinema, one must look at recent political debates of the state and the acceptance of new ideologies in the society; the Malayalam cinema more often than not, acts like the reflection and a mirror of these political discussions. The influx of feminist discourse in the political domain of Kerala was succeeded by the Marxist approach which put the issues of gender while juxtaposing that of class. This shift was too quick and called for the revisioning of the feminist voice. This time, around the 2000s, the academic, as well as quasi-academic frameworks, saw an acceptance of debates and studies of masculinity and queer theory. Thus, it shouldn’t be surprising to find the ‘progressive’ political questions being raised in the language of masculinity. This can also be understood in the light of the popular belief that the conditions of women in Kerala, at least, on its contours seem to be better than most Indian states. Yet, what lies behind the increased sex ratio, rate of women’s literacy, and increasing number of women’s success in the public domain is the deep-rooted patriarchy that manifests itself in cultural norms, metaphoric terminologies, and underlying life choices.
Each and every art form is political in nature, and the cinema industry happens to be the most obvious one. Malayalam cinema has always been quick to keep up with the political pace of the state. This wave of new generational films seemed to have inculcated the changing political attitude.
Films like Kumbalangi Nights and The Great Indian Kitchen, deal with the internalized sexism and gender roles. Kumbalangi Nights is one about the contrarian situation of Saji’s and Shammi’s households, where Shammi, asserting himself as the patriarch of his household, calls himself as the “complete man”, enjoys playing the breadwinner of the family and fill all the boxes of being the morally right male hero. While Saji, after the death of his father and being left alone with his siblings by their mother, seems to have adopted the role of the de facto matriarch of the family. He, at first, comes out as a ‘loser’ but in actuality has a lot more courage than Shammi. If we’re to take the character of Shammi as a metaphor for patriarchy, he’s the only one who doesn’t change by the end of the film. Whereas Saji, rejecting all the social constructs of masculinity, asks for help from his youngest brother and purges his emotional burdens before a psychiatrist – defying the social taboo of visiting one. However, the film is about the transition of each character, who at the end seemed to have found their way through personal struggles. Here, Shammi, with his ideas of “neatness”, the rigidity of norms, and omission of all kinds of feminine traits, being essential for his toxic and masculine identity proved to be an anti-hero while Saji, whose life and the house looked like a mess which by the end of the film happened to be much more liveable than Shammi’s. Now, The Great Indian Kitchen is the perfect depiction of a regular Indian household, with the men of the house leaving the daily chores in the hands of the women, not fulfilling their sexual desires, considering menstruating women as pariahs, and chaining them to the domestic sphere, loaded with duties expected of them especially in the kitchen, with their notions of a “cultured” household. The film is the testimony of many young brides trapped in the shackles of a patriarchal household that binds them, not with violence, but silent and unrelenting comments. Although the film ends with the protagonist, Nimisha, finding a new life, out of that prison, we see no transformation in the masculine attitude of the patriarchs of the family. Both these films show characters, like Shammi and the men of Nimisha’s family, remaining unchanged throughout the film, coherent with the idea of patriarchy that seems to be static in politics. With other characters undergoing a series of emotional and mental experiences, which get reflected in the change in their natures, the movie goes parallel with the view of current gender politics that have been exploring and accepting the transitioning masculinities.
A newfound acceptance has been extended to the issues relating to the queer community with Kerala being the first to formulate a policy for transgenders. Moothon, one of the few Indian films to initiate the dialogue of queer relationships in the mainstream cinema, disregarding the heterosexual gender norms of a romantic relationship, and has done away with the overtly prejudiced and stereotypical portrayals of the queer community. The film captures the medley of masculine identities and their perceptions. It explored how men can be dangerous for themselves, by simply being ‘men’, acting out on the constructed versions of the ideal man. Virility, an important attribute associated with the idea of man, happens to be just one trait of the complex personality of Akbar, the angry goon ‘Bhai’; he, on the other hand, has also been portrayed as a young man in love who gets excited just at the thought of being touched by his romantic male counterpart, Ameer. Mulla, in search of their brother – Akbar, struggles with their identity as a girl, as a sister, and as a kid abruptly dumped into the cruel realities of the world, bringing out the traversing gender constructs. The movie has submerged the concept of hegemonic masculinity through this amorous entanglement.
Analyzing the new generation of Malayalam cinema in light of the political attitude of the state remains an unfinished task here, but the plethora of films being produced has proved to be a promising reflection of the same. The future of Malayalam cinema seems ladened with bug prospects.
Khyati is a third year History student at Lady Shri Ram College for women. She believes that words have the power to change the society, and tends to use these. Interested in research, she's expecting to pursue the same in furure.