The
fact that Malayalam cinema is on the path of revival and the audience
being receptive to some subjects that are off the beaten track can
prove to be harmful to a few filmmakers as they forget to draw the
line between something that is experimental and something that is
digestible for the common viewer to a certain extent (we know that
every film cannot be made to cater to the lower common denominator
among the viewers). Director Dileesh Nair runs that risk in his first
directorial venture Tamaar
Padaar
that somehow becomes overly experimental at the risk of alienating
the audience.
The
story of two street performers played by Baburaj and Chemban
Vinod Jose looks charming initially as it makes two non lead actors
the centre of the story. Vinod even gets a typical romantic song
while wooing his girl Valsamma (Srinda Ashab). Their tale is narrated
by a voiceover that stays till the end. The director employs a
narrator to move the story forward instead of characters themselves
doing that. This technique may have been helpful for the director to
make his statements (political or otherwise) instead of just making
the story flow.
As far as the story goes, it
is not as simple as it looks, Jumper Thambi (Baburaj), who exists in
this world without a proof of his identity. He has a small family
tucked away across the border in Tamil Nadu. He earns his food and
drink by performing his circus act on the roads in Kerala.
On the other hand, we do not
get a detailed character Tubelight Mani (Chemban Vinod), we just know
that he is a simpleton who falls for a streetwalker Valsamma, he is
so simple that he does not understand the colloquial term for her
profession in an effort to discourage him from following her.
The
narrative goes into total spin and becomes the story of ACP Pouran
(Prithviraj), the name signifying common citizen, he was born to a
policeman named Purushan and his mother was named Sthree. He is being
shunted from being an ACP to being a jailer and at last in the IB. It
is here that he arrests the two street performers doubting them to be
terrorists who get Death Sentence in a jiffy and then realising his
mistake, like every good hearted policeman in the films fights the
system to free them.
This
film feels more like a notebook containing the thoughts of the
director read aloud by the narrator. So, once we hear the Home
Minister of the State explaining to Pouran that America will be
pleased if the Death Sentences of the terrorists were carried out.
Then there is a scene where the two performers doing an act together
in solidarity with empowerment of women, end almost up in same-sex
copulation (so much for subtle symbolism). That is not all; here the
director even explains what is done in a typical action sequence by
dissecting it in slow motion with a commentary of what is happening
before showing it again in normal speed.
The
writing takes its toll on the performance of the lead actors, Baburaj
who is always presented as no-hold-bar in comic situations feels
stifled hear because somewhere inside him he may be feeling that he
is doing something very serious and important. Chemban Vinod on the
other hand brings softness into his work and does not go over the top
as it may be expected of him in such scenes. The ultimate winner in
this film as far as histrionic capabilities go as she treads on a
very thin line between her character looking vulgar or being innocent
and charming. Prithviraj gets the wrong end of the stick as he has
been burdened with being a comic cop with a peculiar
Thiruvananthapuram accent and nothin else to fall on.
It
all sums up to making Tamaar
Padaar into
a below average hardly watchable film.
An edited version appears here.
