It is raining cats, dogs and snakes
outside. An elderly couple breaks into an
impromptu dance in their kitchen. This
sequence is intercut with a dance performed by the same couple at a much
earlier phase in their life. There is an
adorable moment when the elderly lady can’t quite hold a pose. But she tries gamely. She is in a state of bliss amidst the
seemingly huge imperfection that has marked the couple’s present state – the husband,
a retired army officer, is suffering from Alzheimer’s. And then, he suddenly snaps out of the wondrous
reverie. He can’t recognize the lady as
his wife. What is still imprinted in his
mind is the image of the much younger girl that he fell head-over-heels in love,
even if the marriage itself was arranged.
In a fit of disgust, he throws a tantrum and some flour on the wife for
good measure. The wife loses her temper
but only for a split-second. She knows
that it is not the husband’s fault. Amidst
the heartbreaking moment, she focuses on a practical detail – she has to change. Life has to move on. It is this kind of detailing that sets
Lakshmy Ramakrishan’s “House Owner” apart.
The nuance not only brings the drama to life but also right next to us.
This couple – essayed by Sriranjini
and ‘AadukaLam’ Kishore as the elderly pair and Lovelyn Chandrasekhar and ‘Pasanga’
Kishore as the younger version – becomes imprinted in our minds slowly but
surely. The wide-eyed wonder of the younger
couple is a stark contrast to the world-weariness and exhaustion of the older
pair. This is never expressed in any
dialogue. Even the transitions between
the past and present are done seamlessly, purposefully. Seemingly incidental details like a
non-existent snake in a pond assume gargantuan proportions later on. Minutiae like the fear and apprehension of
Lovelyn in the darkness and the subsequent role reversal as they age are just
put out on the screen but never force-fed to us. In that sense, Lakshmy Ramakrishnan trusts
the audience to pay attention and to be patient – the details unravel gradually
(as they should), not in a rush.
She reposes the trust of the
audience manifold in the concluding portions, which play out like a thriller, one
that makes our hearts ache, not race. There
was a point in the climax where I turned my eyes off the screen, for the
tension was unbearable. Without spoiling
the movie for you, I will just say that the images and sounds are bound to
haunt even the heartless viewer.
M Ghibran comes up with a
background score that is just about the perfect complement for the images on
screen. And the images themselves? The art direction (by the director herself
with Captain Chandrasekar) and the cinematography by Krishna Sekhar are in sync
in a way that would make the PC Sreeram – Thotta Tharani pair of the ‘80s proud. If you think that that is hyperbole, then you
haven’t watched the climax of this film closely. The technical brilliance of the crew behind
the screen is matched by the ability of the actors on screen. Sriranjini is the prime reason the climax
works so powerfully. Lakshmy Ramakrishan’s
voice work perfectly suits her– the Palakkad-accented Tamil is lovely to listen
to. (My favorite line – “Nelam ellam vallam!”; translation: the
floor is full of water!) Kishore (Senior),
through his circumspect body language, essays the retired army officer role with
much assurance. His best performing
moment comes in the aforementioned dance sequence. The younger couple too strike an easy,
likeable chemistry. Kishore (Junior) nails
the ‘ponnu paakara’ scene – the way he silently expresses joy with a suppressed
smile seeing his wife-to-be is wonderfully done. And Lovelyn is excellent in the party scene
where she conveys awkwardness without overdoing it.
(Spoiler ahead) - I had an
interesting conversation with a friend, who wished that the ending was positive,
that the film could have ended with a ray of light, that could have offered
hope to couples where one is suffering from Alzheimer’s. Of course, the way a tale concludes is the
prerogative of the writer. What I took
away from the movie was encapsulated in a scene featuring Lovelyn and Kishore. The latter, having returned unscathed after serving
in the army, mentions to her that given the uncertainties of his profession
that it is his intent to enjoy every minute that life affords them. It’s a beautifully written scene, one whose
seriousness is punctured with a delightfully sweet response from the wife, who
admires the English spoken by the husband than paying much attention to the
content. But as a viewer, I thought of
this scene during my chat with my friend. Life is sometimes shorter than we plan for it
to be. And it behooves us to savor every
moment by loving our loved ones deeply.
This is stated explicitly nowhere in the film. But the magic of the medium is such that the
same film plays differently for different people. As much as I felt a strange sense of upliftment
during the bittersweet ending of the director’s previous effort, “Ammani” I was
thankful (for the lack of a better term) for the poignancy evoked by this film’s
conclusion.
I admired the director’s debut
feature “Aarohanam” quite a bit. I enjoyed
only parts of her sophomore effort, “Nerungi Vaa…Muthamidathey.” I was stunned by “Ammani,” which I reckon, is
her best film yet – the “Seththathu Saalamma” line knocked a punch in my gut
like few other movies have managed. “House
Owner”, her fourth effort, is a profoundly thought-provoking experience. It doesn’t have the more instantly accessible
pleasures of “Ammani” (like the irresistible “Mazhai Ingillaye…” song). But it is a mature film that wants to go deep
into the minds and hearts of the lead characters, and by extension the
audience. That it succeeds handsomely is
a testament to the vision and conviction of the filmmaker.
The protagonist of “House Owner” may have suffered from
Alzheimer’s. But it will be nigh impossible
to forget this movie.
