Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam

Once, in a land far away, there was a place called Tamilakam; Homeland of theTamils. For millennia, the people of the region that now constitute Southern India, were tied together — both culturally and politically. Together, the region saw the rise and fall of various religions, until they gradually grew more distant somewhat under the influence of northern Sanskrit speaking upper class. The Western Ghats now divide the two states, acting not just as a barrier for rain clouds, but also physically dividing the people of the region for decades. Both in Malayalam as well as Tamil cinema, the 'others' are almost always portrayed as idiots, cultureless or subjects of ridicule. However, with the rise of new-age filmmakers, the cinematic landscapes in both the states have embraced this ability to accept and embrace other cultures, which reflects in their pan India appeal. In Lijo Jose Pellissery's incredibly restrained and cerebral new film, Mammootty plays a Malayali Christian on his way back home with other locals. In the middle of nowhere, he stops the bus, strides into the home of a bewildered Tamilian Hindu family and claims to be their long lost missing son. What's the man's true identity, and why does he appear as two men of differing temperaments and ethnic/ religious identities? James is like any other man inching his 50s, one who would rather be grumpy and always appreciate things from the past as being memorable. He heads back to his hometown in Kerala in a bus filled with old songs, old movies, and people just mingling and being normal, not expecting anything to go wrong from this point on. After stopping the bus midway while everyone else is asleep, he enters a village, walking across its street as if he knows them already. When the rest of the people back at the bus wake up and go find him, they're unable to communicate with the locals because neither of them can speak Tamil, nor can the locals speak Malayalam. The blind mother at the village home is unable to figure out the fact that this is not Sundaram - his son who a few years back went on a pilgrimage trip but never returned from the journey. Sundaram's wife isn't able to tell the difference as well. However, James as Sundaram, is astonished to know his regular barber is no more, and there is also a new temple being constructed. James, having lived vicariously through Sundaram's life, wanted to live in his town, and that’s why he was surprised to see new temples being built in his town. His temperament now seems different, and he seems to have a keen bond with a local street dog. "Don't fight with your brother", one of the older characters in the film says at a point. James seemed to be someone who wasn't that religious himself, but now as Sundaram, he is the religious, talkative man who casts a spell on everyone around him. The emotional baggage attached to Sundaram is difficult for the family to let go of, but nevertheless, they know and understand the fact that this is not Sundaram. The confusion leads to a big ruckus, and people even blame James for being intoxicated or mentally unstable. "The whole world is a stage", one of the other characters from the bus says at a point before the film's climax. One of the two key sequences sees James waking up jolting from his sleep, and by the time the other one comes you're unable to tell whether it's James or Sundaram. That's what Pellissery's new film feels like, chasing after a half-remembered dream, knowing all too well that we won't be able to make most sense out of it after waking up. By injecting a ghost story into a captivating series of slice-of-life vignettes, Pellissery gives us static long takes with vivid mise en scène and detailed sound design; the captivating choice of an insider turning into an outsider reinforces itself through recurrent visual motifs of the crammed in inner streets of the village, each wanting to tell a hundred different stories of its own. Upon first viewing, one keeps wondering where the emotional crux and hook of the film lies. On repeated viewing, however, you begin to understand how even Pellissery acknowledges that the story embodies too many overlapping concerns and identities to be considered as such. Maybe there's no emotional hook to latch onto at once, but "Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam" makes the case that you can feel those ideas simultaneously, even when you can't fully understand them. It's like having an intensely melancholic lucid dreaming experience, until you're eventually jolted back to reality. It's enough to make James contemplate his own sense of fractured identity, after just having voraciously lived through his distant familial past as Sundaram. Somewhere between his journey, while he travels through the country's complicated yet cultural dynamism, the movie elevates itself above its cerebral theme. It's one of the most essential Indian films to have come out in years, if not decades.