Let’s dial it back a few years (and kaathams away): Europe, circa 1930s. The Industrial Revolution and the rise of scientific thinking and management led to a school of thought that professed a specific set of virtues to achieve a state of perpetual growth. This ideology was referred to as Modernism, and it professed an objective view of reality (‘there was one and only one truth’). Modernist art was all about propagating these set ideals with utmost sincerity.
However, post the trials and tribulations of World War II, Europeans felt quite disillusioned by the idealism of Modernism. Life was complex, like a rubix cube, and abiding by a fixed set of Modernist principles was like traversing through just one face of the cube. Moreover, people found themselves in grey situations, often questioning whether there could be a single truth in these scenarios. All this led to a collective questioning of modernism, and the idea of multiple narratives – read multiple ‘truths’ – coexisting. This idea of deconstructing the idealism of modernism came to be known as Postmodernism.
To be honest, there are various takes on what exactly entails modernism and postmodernism (especially considering that there is a sociocultural context, a philosophical context as well as interpretations of these movements across art forms). For clarity, we’ll just stick to the above definitions: that of schools of thought that got reflected in art and discourse. Mentioning this, because Arja, fellow Pinklungi-buddy and academia enthusiast, said: “Ithoru personal opinion post line lu approach cheythal mathi..or else the academics might come for u 🫠”
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But wait…why am I randomly digging into postmodernism – one random anthakaalathe European phenomenon – in a Malayalam pop culture article? Because one, I believe this phenomenon has transcended time and geography and is relevant in Kerala, even today; and two, I think this phenomenon has a small part to play in our (arguably top-tier) intelligence as a film viewing state.
Let’s start with point one.
Films have, like any other form of art, echoed ideologies prevalent in their time. Modernism and Postmodernism are no exceptions. Modernist films typically followed traditional storytelling structures, had complete story arcs and clear takeaways (read ‘moral of the story’).
Postmodernist films chronologically came in as a reaction to the ‘perfectness’ of modernist films, using unconventional techniques and prompting audiences to consciously view and analyse film narratives.
“If modernist films were trying to create an illusion of reality so that you, the viewer, could suspend your disbelief and fully get engrossed in the film, some postmodernist films were trying to remind the viewer that they were a viewer…and that the director and the actors were the ones controlling the narrative.”
– Youtuber Thomas Flight in an insanely detailed video about the Evolution in Hollywood film narrative
Coming to nammude kochu Keralam, it would be difficult to classify entire Malayalam films as modernist or postmodernist, given our reduced correlation with the sociocultural context of the movement. However, I do believe that a set of God’s own filmmakers have found value in incorporating – consciously or subconsciously- postmodernist tropes in their work.
Broadly, postmodernist deconstruction of idealism is done through blurring of boundaries. Now this can be :
- Case 1: Blurring of inner boundaries within the content, ie between different styles
- Case 2: Blurring of outer boundaries, ie between the content and the viewer
Case 1
1a. Genre blending and subversions
When a piece of fiction alludes to different genres and mixes their elements in unprecedented ways, it successfully breaks the monotony; which could partly explain why every Lijo Jose Pellissery film is hugely anticipated by cinephiles pre-release. If he’d mix hyperlocal comedy and music into a gangster setting in one film (Angamaly Diaries), his next would be a meditative dark comedy that flirts with magic realism (Ee.Ma.Yau), and the one that follows would be a social commentary dolled up as a gory action drama (Jallikattu) and so on. The unpredictability in the narrative keeps audiences away from complacency.
Also read: Ee.Ma.Yau: A Deep Dive Into Lijo Jose Pellisery’s Craft
Another way to ‘introduce some anarchy’ is subverting genre tropes to create deliberate distortions of reality as opposed to utopian visions. A film like Chithram follows the beats of a classical romantic comedy, but ends with Mohanlal’s death – a tragic end that subverts the usually happy aftertaste of a romcom. A more popular use case is intertextuality or alluding to already created works, either to pay homage to it or to spoof questionable elements of it. Examples include Pattanapravesham (where Dasan-Vijayan allude to Sethuramaiyer’s Dummy tactics during investigation) and the recent Premalu (where a seemingly innocent sequence in Hridayam is put through the agni pareeksha of reality).
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1b. Combining ‘high art’ with ‘low art’
Disclaimer: There is no registry with an exhaustive list of high and low arts. High art is traditionally what the elite circles of society acknowledge as objects of aesthetic value, and are often part of the intelligentsia. In an Indian context, this could include literature, Carnatic music, Mohniyattam, etc. Low art however, is more ‘massy’, in the sense that it finds great appeal among the lower and middle classes of society. Examples include naadan paattu, theatre and various versions of low brow humour.
Now, I know what you must be thinking: who has the right to gate-keep art and classify it as ‘high’ and ‘low’? Well, this is another boundary that is blurred by postmodernism. By borrowing elements from high and low art for a common sequence, it makes a statement against conventional hierarchies.
Also read: Raga – The Real Reason Some Songs Sound Similar
Shanmukhapriya is a Carnatic raga that was traditionally used to sing praises of Lord Murugan and Lord Shiva since the 17-18th century. Come the late twentieth century, and two prolific minds – Gireesh Puthencherry and Vidyasagar – decide to utilise Shanmukhapriya to create a devotional melody, with a devotional chorus, but… containing playful soup-boy lyrics in between. In a way, Confusion Theerkaname rattles traditional use cases of Carnatic music, adding irreverent humor into the mix.
Another sequence that incorporates high and low art is Megha Raagam from Kaakkakuyil, where, against a background of Indian classical dance and music, we have a couple of greedy characters involved in slapstick humour. Other examples include Poove Poove where ballet dance is interspersed with theatre; and more recently, Gaganachari, where Mural paintings are utilised in the backdrop of absurdist humour.
Case 2
2a. Self referentiality
This is when a film reminds you that it is just a film; almost seeming like a broader wake-up call to shield you against falling into the power of visual narratives. In some cases, the characters of the film break the fourth wall (like when Ravanaprabhu’s MN Karthikeyan looks into the camera and tells us to have a tea break at the interval point); in others, the dialogues of a scene refer to the process of filming that scene (such as Mammootty’s introductory sequence in Shylock, or the hilarious reference to the sudden appearance of background dancers in the Kuppivala song from Ayal Kadhayezhuthukayanu – “Evidengilum aanum pennum duet paadan thudangumbolekkum keri vannolum..”).
Also read: 8 Types Of Intervals In Malayalam Cinema
2b. Unreliable narrators
Another postmodernist trick to prompt viewers into questioning narratives, is employing an unreliable narrator. Take for example, Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s classic Anantaram. We see bits and pieces of Ajayan’s life in the first half and form a perception about him; but in the second half, we are introduced to new characters and new sides to Ajayan that make us question our assumptions made in the first half. In effect, we turn into an actively thinking audience, closely examining the visuals presented to us before accepting them.
2c. Unresolved endings
As discussed earlier, modernist films of yore typically had a ‘moral of the story’: If you exhibit so and so traits, you can achieve X amount of success. Naturally, endings were clear (only then could the audience ‘take away’ the narrative the film was trying to convey). With postmodernism came the idea that every story need not have a specific takeaway forced down people’s throats; if anything, stories should allow the audience to take away their individual discoveries. G Aravindan’s Oridathu, Sreenivasan’s Vadakkunokkiyanthram and Venu’s Munnariyippu are examples of films that end very abruptly; but because they do so, they leave an uncanny aftertaste, making one you wonder about the protagonists’ futures.
Now that we’ve established the various ways in which we have seen flashes of postmodernism in Malayalam cinema, let’s now understand how they could be linked to the astuteness of our film-viewing audience.
Consider these recent statements (amid multiple such testimonials from auteurs across the country):
“I think the audience in Kerala is really open to watching different kinds of films..”
– Payal Kapadia, director of All We Imagine As Light
“I am just so jealous of Malayalam filmmakers… the courage, the audacity and the amazing discerning audience of Kerala that empowers the filmmaking.. I am so insanely jealous.”
– Anurag Kashyap, director of Gangs of Wasseypur (and a bunch of cult classics)
Two phrases here: “openness” and “discerning”. By being exposed to constant genre re-inventions and subversions, we as an audience have opened our minds to the endless possibilities across and within genres. By critically analysing cinema through different lenses, and not taking narratives at face value, we have evolved into a discerning audience whose hunger for exciting films drives filmmakers to keep pushing the boundaries – and occasionally blurring them.
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In a small way, postmodernism has positively shaped our minds and viewing habits. The argument here, of course, is that Malayalam audiences have been better exposed to experimentation as compared to other languages, not just through its own mainstream cinema but via higher exposure to parallel and international cinema. (Definitely an arguable proposition, I know.)
There’s one last thing I’d like to address before we close. While everything mentioned above makes postmodernism look revolutionary, if you see the big picture and imagine a world where postmodern art reigns supreme over all else – wouldn’t that be a very cynical way to approach life? To believe that there is no merit in believing; how can one live such a life? Thats where a new movement has emerged, that accepts the deconstruction of idealism that comes with postmodernism, while also considering the sincerity of modernism : Meta-Modernism.
To put things simply:
- Life means everything = Modernism
- Life means nothing = Postmodernism
- Life means nothing and therefore it means everything = Meta-Modernism
A good example of this would be Kumbalangi Nights – while it deconstructs the complete man through the Shammi character, it also packs in a sincere story about the coming together of a dysfunctional family.
None of these movements are the one right answer, and all of them will transcend time to continue to exist across art. A good mix of all kinds of art will ensure we become neither hopelessly optimistic nor hopelessly cynical in life. In our land, a modernist film like Aadujeevitham runs to packed houses just as much as a postmodernist Premalu or a meta-modernist Aavesham. What a time to be alive!
