Being a fan of contemporary Malayalam cinema has many highs; one of which is the biennial Amal Neerad treat – witnessing frames as chic as they get, featuring characters who exude swag through and through. After the fairly entertaining Bheeshma Parvam, the man is back with his latest release, Bougainvillea, featuring Jyothirmayi, Kunchako Boban and Fahad Faasil among others.
The premise of Bougainvillea is intriguing. Reethu, a woman with retrograde amnesia, is caught in the middle of a sensational girl missing case – and the police, with the help of her clueless husband, have to untangle the knots in her memory to arrive at the truth.
And here’s the thing; the film beautifully builds up the atmosphere for a gripping investigative thriller (featuring an in-form Jyothirmayi!!) – until the third act, which has left the internet divided on the execution. And here’s one more take to hopefully add more fuel to the fire.
Wokeism ruined that third act.
(Spoiler alert – here on, we’re primarily just going to be discussing that third act, so please don’t read ahead if you plan to watch.)
I’m all for women’s empowerment, but I can’t help believing that the climax showdown was a tad bit forced.
At the finale, when Royce brings Reethu to witness the torture he plans to inflict on Meera, one is primed for some high-octane action (because Royce is carrying a gun… and you know what Chekhov ashan has said about guns in the screenplay). We know Royce is going to be ultimately beaten, and we’re thinking of how the screenplay would take us to that endpoint.
Would David IPS and team jump into the scene, throwing us into a Big B-esque shootout sequence?
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Would the pigs be somehow involved in Royce’s downfall (they were a motif after all)?
And just as we ponder over the exciting possibilities, we are subjected to the following set of events – Meera, hitherto unconscious, jumps up in a jolt (as though she consumed quaaludes a few minutes ago) and gets into a full-on strangling competition with Royce. And out of nowhere, Rema jumps into the frame with a chair in hand, screaming, whacking the chair on Royce’s head (and the audience’s too). And Reethu, who miraculously happens to recall everything that very night, decides to shoot Royce down.
Here’s my favorite part though: After Reethu pulls the trigger on Royce and he falls to his feet wounded, Rema says: “Ivanoke ithreyoke ullu chechi!” (clearly planted to elicit cheers from the audience)
Ithreyokke ullenno? Yo Rema chechi, this man just slashed your kettyon’s throat a few minutes ago. Your life partner is DEAD. MURDERED by this thalatherichavan a few minutes ago. And you’re in a mindspace to crack punch dialogues? Tch!
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By the way, WHERE IS THE POLICE when the prime suspect of the missing case is herself missing from her house? Don’t they track the suspects’ movements in these scenarios?! Also, why are the local police not wary of Royce as a potential suspect, especially if he has a tharavadi lineage that was infamous for lecherous acts? The police in this film are slightly south of Sarbath Shemeer and slightly north of Ookken Tintu in terms of incompetence. It’s quite funny that Amal Neerad thought Fahad accepting their incompetence at the end, would satisfy audiences.
| A little trivia by the way: this isn’t how things pan out in co-writer Lajo Jose’s novel Ruthinde Lokam, from which it is adapted. In the book, Meera isn’t outright unconscious; she is shown to be semi-conscious and weak, and eventually gathers all her strength to grab the gun from Royce’s hold. In the commotion, Reethu gets hold of the gun; but she is confused (has not gained all memories back), and is manipulated to shoot Meera, which she misses. At this point, Rema (who gains consciousness after being drugged a while back) grabs the gun from Reethu and shoots Royce in the head. And then tells Reethu: Ithreyullu chechi (said in the context of shooting the gun). Now THIS was a more organic and believable take. |
I’m not saying that progressive elements should not be included in films. In fact, films are a great place to establish powerful images and thoughts and spark discussions among people on topics like gender politics and caste discrimination.
I cannot imagine the storm that Namukku Parkkan Munthirithoppukal must have created in viewers’ minds when they saw Mohanlal (a star by then) accept the heroine who was raped by the antagonist in the climax. I was first-hand witness to a few men checking their behaviour at home and washing their own dishes, after watching The Great Indian Kitchen. But in all of these films, the ‘woke’ characters do not go out of their way to do what they do; the milieu organically allows for these elements to come through.
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The imagery of three females taking down a psychotic nymphomaniac male is a powerful one – and a pretty rare one in an industry that is largely male-dominated and tailored for males (22FK is the last instance I can remember, where a female physically overpowered a male). In 22FK or the Nithya Menon segment in Kerala Cafe, where the woman overpowers the man either physically or intellectually, the climax felt more in place because we’re following the characters more closely. But in the context of Bougainvillea and its characters, that imagery feels a little forced.
Time for me to sit back and take in the backlash. Tata!
P.S. Shoutout to Ganga Nair (@_imgsn) for her inputs on Ruthinde Lokam!
