The observation of K Balachander’s character Margadarisi in director Ramesh Aravind’s Uttama Villain (2015) that cancer is one of the most clichéd themes in Tamil cinema is not unsound. However, this statement requires a minor correction, as it’s not just in Tamil cinema that cancer is the most ‘beloved’ go-to topic for filmmakers to craft emotional dramas; rather, this stands true for all movie industries, including Malayalam. From Sukrutham and Akashadoothu to Chandrolsavam, Luca, Four Friends and Thirakkatha, several Malayalam movies have capitalised on the emotional impact of cancer, as almost all people know someone or the other who has battled the disease.
Although most of these movies don’t share significant similarities in terms of their stories or settings, one factor unites them all, making them appear cut from the same cloth, and that’s the way the fates of cancer victims are crafted. Regardless of whether they win or lose their battle against the disease, once these characters are diagnosed with cancer, a pall of gloom descends on them as well as the people around them. This gloom only worsens moving ahead, often ending in complete tragedy. It’s as if cancer is a dementor that feeds on human happiness, generating terrible feelings of despair in anyone in proximity.
Yes, cancer is serious, and yes, many have suffered because of it and succumbed too. But that doesn’t mean tragedy is the only ‘right’ way to portray it. Nor does it mean that every cancer patient and their loved ones have dealt with it solely by sulking. Director Althaf Salim’s directorial debut, Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela, was the first Malayalam film to realise this and prompt audiences too to acknowledge it, making it a landmark movie. Interestingly, its title is borrowed from novelist K Chandramathi’s memoir of the same name, which details her battle with cancer. Now that Althaf returns with his sophomore directorial venture, Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira, it is doubtful whether he would have chosen another simpler title for the 2017 Onam blockbuster.
Regardless of how you categorise it — as a tragicomedy or dark comedy — it’s impossible to overlook the fact that amid all the laughs the film offered, Althaf Salim and George Kora’s screenplay ensured that they did not downplay the severity of the disease, maintaining sensitivity throughout. The brilliance of the two lay in their ability to weave hard-hitting yet crisp scenes into the comedic narrative without it feeling contrived. Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela, in fact, stands as a testament that an exceptional movie is born when the makers, particularly the director, have a complete grasp of the world they wish to build.
Watch Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela trailer here:
From the very beginning, Althaf makes it plainly clear that he has “broken all conventional concepts” of making a tragedy. No normal, average mind can think of commencing a movie based on such a serious theme with a voiceover narration in a style reminiscent of Kathaprasangam performances — and that too by the actor playing the doctor who eventually helps cure Sheela’s (Shanthi Krishna) cancer. What makes it even more intriguing is that the lines are penned like doggerels, featuring rhyming words and observational and resonant details, thus making them instantly memorable. “Asvasthatha koodappirappaya Chacko, thanne lighter chathicha asvasthathayil, lighter kandupidichavante thanthakku manassil vilich alari (Chacko, for whom uneasiness is akin to a twin, screamed while mentally cursing the father of the cigarette lighter’s inventor over the uneasiness of being betrayed by his lighter),” we hear Dr Saiju’s (Saiju Kurup) rhyming narration on Chacko’s (Lal) predicament. What adds to the absurdity of the moment is the hilarious pointlessness in the choice to have oncologist Saiju deliver this ‘toilet humour’. Even as the movie progresses, we hear Saiju’s running commentary at various junctures.
However, the sharpness in Althaf Salim’s direction shines the most in the way the tense moments are crafted, ensuring that they have complete seriousness. While not compromising on the humour in the voiceover, he uses visual techniques to communicate Sheela’s anxiety. From close-ups and quick cuts to Justin Varghese’s suspenseful background score, the methods are aplenty. Once Sheela’s son from London, Kurian (Nivin Pauly), enters the scene, Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela hits top gear, with Althaf and George making the best use of the humour on paper and the ability of their cast to pull off such moments with remarkable ease.
Interestingly, just before the interval, there’s a shot that serves as a microcosm of the entire movie. As the family leaves Saiju’s cabin — walking out together in a massy style — after discussing Sheela’s condition with the doctor and hearing her clarify the kind of support she expects from them as family, we see Sheela’s son-in-law Tony (Siju Wilson) and Kurian trip over someone’s leg that was un/knowingly stretched out in their path. After quickly looking back to make sure everyone’s okay, the family continues forward in slow-motion and in unison. This single moment, in a way, encapsulates the very soul of the family that seems to live by Phil’s-osophy and makes lemons when life hands them lemonade. What makes the shot even more meaningful is that the person whose leg Tony and Kurian trip over is none other than Althaf Salim himself, in a subtle but clever cameo.
Story continues below this ad
There’s one thing that many great filmmakers have often hailed as the most important step in crafting an exceptional movie: casting. From the central character of Sheela to secondary supporting characters like Yesudas (Sharaf U Dheen), Althaf ensured the same here, tapping into not only the abilities of the actors but also the the kind of roles in which they were stereotyped in, which he sometimes also subverted by casting against type. Since Shanthi Krishna holds a special place in the hearts of Malayalees, having portrayed several beloved characters over the years, Sheela’s discovery of a lump on her body and her eventual cancer diagnosis subconsciously influenced the audience to empathise with her quickly, and her endearing performance only added to this. In contrast, casting Lal as the bumbler Chacko — agaisnt his typical roles as the capable man, regardless of whether the character is noble, villainous, or humorous — felt fresh, thanks to his range as a performer too.
The most brilliant of the casting choices was undoubtedly Nivin Pauly as Kurian. Despite the actor being at the top of his game at that time — having just established himself as the new face of Malayali masculinity with his virile performances in Premam (2015) and Action Hero Biju (2016) — Althaf Salim did not hesitate to cast Nivin as the naive, slightly self-centred braggart Kurian. Nor did the actor-producer attempt to induce anything into the role to satisfy his “image,” which could have easily backfired. Instead, Althaf and George crafted a role for him akin to those Mohanlal portrayed in old Priyadarshan and Sathyan Anthikad movies. Thanks to Nivin’s inherent charm, cuteness and ability to evoke laughter effortlessly through gestures, expressions and dialogue delivery, Kurian landed well.
It is certain that no other actor of his generation could deliver the “Njan London-il aayirunnallo… (When I was in London…)” monologue so many times in the movie and yet manage to crack up viewers every single time. It is because of his memorable performances like this that Malayali moviegoers still yearn for Nivin’s comeback — and they went bananas upon catching such glimpses of the actor after a long time in Varshangalkku Shesham — since such portrayals, many believe, can only be delivered by Mohanlal and Nivin without appearing pretentious.
It’s not just in the casting that Althaf’s sharpness is evident, but also in the crew members he roped in for each department. The exceptional contributions of Mukesh Muraleedharan (cinematography), Dilip Dennis (editing), Justin Varghese (music), Sabu Mohan (art direction), and Stephy Zaviour (costume design) all reflect that.
Story continues below this ad
Not just the pitter-pattered dialogues, but the sensible and sensitive use of deadpan also worked brilliantly in the movie’s favour, as it helped break down the tension and made one realise that it’s okay to take a breather and roll with the punches, even in the face of such life-altering and potentially tragic moments. From Yesudas wishing Sheela all the best for her first chemotherapy and telling her to knock it out of the park; and Chacko’s friend Abraham (Dileesh Pothan) commenting that although there’s a bit of underconfidence in Saiju’s eyes, he is the best choice for Sheela’s treatment; to Chacko admitting that he and his father are known cowards in their locality, explaining why he can’t accompany Sheela for her biopsy; his grandfather (Antony Chachan) scolding Kurian for waking him just to inform him that Sheela has stage 2 breast cancer, which the doctor assured she would overcome; and finally Kurian’s hilarious and heart-touching epilogue voiceover, the movie is packed with dark comedy and deadpan moments.
Nivin Pauly and Aishwarya Lekshmi in Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela. (Credit: Facebook/@paulyjrpicture)
But what these scenes highlight even more is how deeply Althaf understood the seriousness and emotional toll cancer takes on those affected and their loved ones. Only someone with such insight could craft humour that is so sensitive and respectful. At the same time, even as the movie progresses and offers a few subplots, including Kurian developing feelings for Rachel (Aishwarya Lekshmi), whom he met at the hospital while accompanying his mother for chemotherapy, Althaf never takes the spotlight away from Sheela, reducing her to a namesake character in any way.
Alongside all this, he also ensures that the gravity of her battle and its emotional impact on Chacko and the children is never understated. From her younger daughter, Sarah (Ahaana Krishna), taking Sheela on a girls’ day out to let her know just how special and loved she is, and later helping her mother shave her head before chemotherapy claims her hair; to the climax montage, showing flashbacks of Chacko, Kurian, Sarah, and their sister Mary Tony (Srinda) breaking down in in their personal spaces, away from Sheela’s sight, Althaf Salim masterfully revealed the other side of the laughs. In fact, by ending with Sheela becoming cancer-free and then cutting to show earlier and never-before-seen moments when each family member privately burst into tears, fearing losing her forever, the film comes full circle, making it an emotionally resonant and endearing experience.
Cinema cannot exist in a vacuum; it’s all about the discussions that follow. In the Cinema Anatomy column, we delve into the diverse layers and dimensions of films, aiming to uncover deeper meanings and foster continuous discourses.
