Halitha Shameem’s Sillu Karupatti features a tape
recorder, a shampoo bottle, a ring, a box of Pringles chips, a Johnson’s
baby ad, a Cornetto ice cream air balloon,
a bird-shaped key fob and an Alexa virtual
assistant named, “Ammu.” You must wonder
why I would start a review listing a bunch of inanimate objects. Good question. My answer is simple. If you have watched the movie, you will know
that all of them acquire a life of their own.
Seen one way, they are animated
objects. Animated by a sense of warmth
and affection that is infused into them by the superb writing and craftsmanship
displayed by the director and her team.
If that is the life that the filmmaker imbues objects with, need I really
say anything about the humanness, the charm and the lovability that she adorns
her actors with. I wrote “adorn” because
Sillu Karupatti features some of the
most beautiful characters that I have seen on film. Beauty, not necessarily in just the cosmetic
sense of the word. But an inner glow
that radiates from within the soul of the actors that lights up the entire
screen. To borrow the late Roger Ebert’s
ecstatic reaction after watching Jerry
Maguire, I wanted to “hug myself with delight!”
Sillu Karupatti is an anthology of four stories. All four of them are ‘love’ stories, loosely
speaking. But none of them are frivolous
or lightweight. The underlying sadness
or seriousness of some of the tracks is leavened with some marvelously written lines
that drip with wit, understated humor and intelligence. The bevy of actors, both the lead ones and
the smaller characters, are all pitch-perfect.
There is not a false note in one of the performances, irrespective of
length of the role. (Among the actors in minor roles, the misty-eyed
nurse who holds a “Hope” sign was especially unforgettable.)
Among the actresses, Sunaina and
Nivedhithaa Sathish come up trumps. As I
had written in my review of Marriage Story, implosion is much more difficult to
portray than explosion. Sunaina’s
implosion of emotion in the verbal duel with Samudrakani is arguably her best work till date. Her satisfied sigh in front
of the mirror and her little “thank you” speech to “Ammu” in the final sequence are
as incandescent as the candles in the scene.
Nivedhithaa brings an impishness and perkiness that, unlike the typical
masala film heroine, is also balanced by common sense and street smarts. Her affectionate hug of Manikandan in the
terrace and her loving glances of him in the hospital bed are instances where
the character sparkles, as does the actress.
Of the actors, Manikandan and Samudrakani
are especially magnificent. After Raghuvaran, Samudrakani
has probably been my favorite character actor.
An advice-spouting do-gooder is how we have mostly seen him. But in this film, he brings a disarming
casualness to his performance. I have never seen
him exhibit shyness or childlike qualities as he does in such a winsome
manner in Sillu Karupatti. And Manikandan, who held his own in Kaala against the mighty Rajnikanth, turns
in the most nuanced performance of this film.
His expressions alone are worth the ticket of this film. Be it when he is writhing in pain, the befuddled
look when a politician asks him to create a meme (pronounced, “mee-mee!”), the
surprise he exhibits when he is compared to Charlie Chaplin, the delight having
swallowed a piece of a tasty kulfi, the wistful look in the mirror as he strokes
his hair, the joyous smile (and the way he says, “Nalla Sagunam”) while
entering the hospital – these are all imprints on screen left by a consummate
actor who is completely in sync with his director’s vision.
If I were to pick the best of the
four stories, it would probably be the Manikandan – Nivedhithaa one, owing to
its incredibly sensitive handling of some very delicate topics without
posturing or sermons. On the other hand, I found the Leela
Samson – Sree Ram track to be the least effective. It is because I felt that this was one story that
couldn’t attain the level of depth it needed in the amount of time
that it had. The thawing and growing
affection in the relationship felt rushed to me. I kept thinking that this story, to work effectively,
deserved a movie of its own like the art house classic, Anthimanthaarai.
The cinematography and music are unobtrusively
effective. The background score (by
Pradeep Kumar) is especially impactful in the kids segment where the tenderness
of the longing glances is matched by the gentle score. I especially enjoyed the photography (by Yamini
Yagnamurthy) of the final segment. In
the scene featuring an inebriated Samudrakani, we first see him from a tipsy angle. It is only then revealed that he is sitting
in a merry-go-round in a playground!
As I reflect on the immense joy and satisfaction I derived from this film, I just wish that more actors and producers
(like Suriya has with this film) support such efforts where the richness comes not
from extravagant set pieces or exotic foreign locales and instead, comes from detailing, nuance and delicacy of the writing and film making. It is films of this ilk that will not only endear themselves but also endure.
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