Theatre The Myth of Reality Movie Review & Rating: The first time we see the tagline of director Sajin Baabu’s Theatre, “The Myth of Reality,” one might think that the film blurs the line between fiction and truth, thus taking us on a fantastical journey. However, the filmmaker has instead deconstructed the concept of reality here, demonstrating how it is subjective and a product of various elements.
Let’s dive deep. Not everything we perceive as reality has been seen or experienced by us firsthand, yet we consume and believe certain things to be true when they come from “trusted sources.” At the same time, we process even the things we have witnessed ourselves through the lens of our biases, preferences, and even conveniences at times, thus rendering reality a version of what we wish to believe is true. So, what is reality? Or, to be more precise, are there definitive realities?
At a key moment in Theatre, after they have sex at a plot adjacent to Meera’s (Rima Kallingal) house, we see her occasional partner telling her, “You should have come with me when I asked you to (years ago).” Here, the reality he believes is that Meera is struggling in her house — located on an abandoned island where she lives with her elderly mother, Sarada (Sarasa Balussery) — and is vexed by her living conditions. However, she bluntly replies, “That’s just what you feel when you see me,” implying that once he gets over the post-orgasmic effect and moves on to the next day, he won’t feel the same. With that line, she also makes it clear that she isn’t “suffering” there and that she sees her daily struggles as part of life. Nonetheless, we later see her facing several hardships because of those same surroundings. So, in whose perception does the actual reality lie?
In a smartly written and visualised opening scene, we see Sarada narrating to a young girl the legend of Parashurama, who is credited in Hindu mythology as the creator of the land of Kerala. Here, she also mentions how Parashurama struck a deal with Vasuki, the king of the nagas, to allow humans to exist in the land without being attacked by venomous snakes. In return, Parashurama vowed that the human beings would allot special lands for the serpents, which would be well taken care of. Thus, she says, sarpa kavukal (snake groves) were built.
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The narrative of Theatre is rooted in this legend, with people in Meera’s locality taking it all the more seriously. She belongs to a once-majestic family of Vishavaidyas, who specialised in treating those bitten by venomous snakes. However, one action by one of her forefathers that was against the codes of their shastras led to their downfall decades ago, and all that remains of their glorious past is the dilapidated ancestral home on that isolated island where the mother-daughter duo resides. Despite this, both Sarada and Meera continue to believe in the legend and still worship the snakes. That’s why, when Meera is bitten by a mysterious insect and develops a contagious infection, leading to her hospitalisation, we see Sarada frequently telling others that everything will be resolved once they return home and organise the Sarpam Thullal, which Meera also believes. This not only illustrates how conditioned they are but also highlights the extent to which superstitions can influence and brainwash people.
Although the movie begins by showing Meera finding bread and butter for them through menial labor, including climbing coconut trees (not in the comical and offensive way Janhvi Kapoor is portrayed in Param Sundari), and the duo leading a secluded life, finding everything they need from their surroundings, with their being the only house on the island, it soon also sheds light on the pitfalls of hyper-independence.
As the film progresses, Sajin also comments on several topics, including the double-edged nature of social media. While we see content creator Manoj (Dain Davis) coming to Meera’s rescue when she is hospitalised and informing the world about her condition, even spearheading a campaign to amass the Rs 7+ crore required for her treatment, writer-director Sajin shows how, at the end of the day, the aim of those like Manoj may be to increase the number of subscribers.
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Meanwhile, the movie also sheds light on the kind of witch-hunting that even child-sex-abuse survivors face — from their own relatives as well — with Meera’s paternal uncle remarking at one point, “There won’t be fire without smoke,” in reference to the incident of her being raped as a child by one of her teachers.
However, as the movie goes on, Sajin forces too many elements into the narrative, resulting in a failure to do justice to any of them. He merely scratches the surface of various issues, ranging from the commodification of healthcare and casual misogyny in society to unresolved trauma and mental health issues, thus offering only superficial depictions.
One of the major shortcomings of Sajin’s script is that he has devoted too much time to certain elements — like Manoj’s online campaign and Sarada’s helplessness at the hospital — and very little attention to several other aspects he has tried to fit in. As a result, many segments in the movie come across as half-cooked and, at times, even forced. Despite Theatre taking ample time to build its world, allowing the narrative to settle in slowly and for things to evolve at a gradual pace, Sajin’s inability to cohesively and impactfully weave in everything he wished to address has indeed affected the movie.
Nonetheless, what keeps Theatre strong are the technical contributions by DOP Syamaprakash MS, editor Appu Bhattathiri, composer Saeed Abbas, and sound designer Jubin Raj. They ensure that the world created is as honest and naturalistic as possible, thus allowing us to be mute spectators to all that’s happening to and around Meera.
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Although Rima Kallingal impresses in many moments, there are times when her portrayal feels more manufactured than authentic. While anyone breaking down and wailing might seem slightly comical in real life — mainly because all their pretences have fallen away and they’re fully unmasked — when acting for screen, a performer must know where to draw the line. While Rima shines in scenes where Meera’s vulnerability is expressed with restraint, in moments where she breaks down and bawls, it becomes evident that the actor is struggling to find that line. Nonetheless, she compensates for this with the precision with which she handles the extremely demanding climax. Sarasa Balussery, meanwhile, proves yet again what a spectacular actor she is with her stunning portrayal of Sarada.
Theatre movie cast: Rima Kallingal, Sarasa Balussery, Dain Davis, Pramod Veliyanad, Krishnan Balakrishnan, Mekha Rajan, Ann Saleem
Theatre movie director: Sajin Baabu
Theatre movie rating: 3 stars
