Manorathangal (Mindspace), an anthology series in Malayalam, is an assortment of nine segments, by nine different directors, based on the short stories by the literary giant, MT Vasudevan Nair, who has also written each of them. Veteran actor, Kamal Hasan, introduces us to each of these stories that capture the depth of human relationships, the clash between tradition and modernity, and the poignancy of life’s fleeting moments. In the introduction, Hasan informs us that the Malayalam film Kanyakumari (1974), which was written by Nair, played a crucial role in his career. While adapting each of the stories for the screen, the period in each of them has not been altered from the original text. It is a creative choice that preserves the authenticity of Nair’s work, and enhances the nostalgic essence of the narrative, and temporal nuances as they were originally intended. But barring a few of the stories, the rest of them struggle to recreate the ethos of the original periods effectively and fall flat in capturing the intended atmosphere and cultural context. As a result, it is just the latest in a long line of anthology series that are barely able to produce more than three shorts that resonate with our emotions and sensibilities, leaving much of the audience feeling uninspired.
Priyadarshan, also the showrunner, begins the anthology with Olavum Theeravum (Ripples and the Bank), a remake of the 1970 adaptation by P.N. Menon, with Mohanlal playing the lead role of the timber trader, Baputty. He falls in love with the sister of his dead friend, Nabeesa (Durga Krishna), the daughter of a woman with a bad reputation Beevathu (Surabhi Lakshmi). Nabeesa reciprocates Baputty’s advances and decides to marry her. But fate takes a drastic turn, when Kunjali (Hareesh Peradi), a wealthy businessman returns to the village. Shot in monochrome by Santosh Sivan, the film has a narrative approach that is not only dated but also endows it with a daily soap-like feel. The characterization of Kunjali seems like an antagonist from yesteryears, and so his conflict with Baputty regarding winning over Nabeesa feels clichéd. There is a suspenseful scene in the tea shop where Baputty arrives and interrupts Kunjali’s intention of harming him, but this moment does not add much to the story and feels somewhat superfluous. There are a few instances when one of the props used turns red, symbolizing the peril the lovers are yet to encounter. While this technique is reminiscent of the one used by Steven Spielberg in Schindler’s List, it feels somewhat derivative in this context. This is not a strong beginning for the series.
Then, we come across a journalist, Venugopal (Mammootty) in Kadugannawa, Oru Yathra Kurippu (Kadugannawa: A Travel Note), who visits Sri Lanka for a seminar as well to find his sister, Leela, from his father’s second marriage. Directed by Ranjith, the story shifts between the past and present and captures the blooming of an innocent connection between a brother and sister. The tension taking place in Sri Lanka in the 90s is used to denote the emotional turmoil in Venugopal’s mind if he would be able to meet his sister in the small town of Kadugannawa after decades of separation. The few moments of childhood spent by Venugopal and Leela (Prarthana) are captured evocatively by cinematographer Nimish Ravi in the rural landscape, while the editing makes the transition between the two timelines appear seamless. Despite the filmmaker’s strong control over the story, the climax does not resonate well as it fails to create momentum and raise the stakes for the protagonist. Hence, it misses the mark by not delivering a satisfying emotional impact.
The next in the series is the story of a married woman, Sudha (Parvathy Thiruvothu), whose passion for singing classical songs, provides her the strength to end a bitter relationship with her husband, Prabhakaran (Narain), in Shyamaprasad’s Kazhcha (Vision). As Sudha goes to her mother’s house, relatives and friends advise her not to end her five-year-old relationship with her husband. Amidst this unwelcome flow of suggestions, an elderly woman supports Sudha’s decision and provides her with a ray of hope for her uncertain future. The fact that this woman is suffering from cataracts becomes symbolic, representing the clarity and vision that Sudha seeks despite the negative perspective of the society surrounding her situation. The moments in the film move at an unhurried pace, adding subtlety to the story. The film begins with Sudha calling her husband Vishwanathan (Harish Uthaman) from a phone booth in her village, which brings a sense of circularity to her story and underscores the longing she desires in her life. The performance by Parvathy is deeply nuanced and compelling, capturing the emotional complexity of her character with depth. This is one of the better segments in the series and stands out for its effective storytelling, resonating well with the emotions of the audience.
In Priyadarshan’s Shilalikhitam (Inscriptions), college professor Gopalankutty (Biju Menon) visits a place near his hometown to verify a stone inscription. His daughter Renu (Nila Bharathy) accompanies him on the journey. He also visits his ancestral home, where his mother lives, to persuade her to sell the house. Nair wants the money to build a new house for his family in the city. Chaos erupts when his maternal uncle informs him that the semi-conscious body of one of their relatives’ daughters has been found near the brook. Through flashbacks, it is revealed that the woman had a relationship with Gopa when they were young. The villagers express disdain toward the woman due to her ill repute. The narrative contemplates how human behavior can wreck others’ lives when it lacks humanitarian consideration. The film poignantly comments on the callousness of society and offers a contemplative study of the meaning of humanity, revealing how people can be hypocrites rather than the caring individuals they wish to portray. Priyadarshan demonstrates a strong command over the form in this segment. The cinematography by Divakar Mani also captures effectively the somber and reflective tone of the story.
In Vilpana (The Sale), directed by Nair’s daughter Ashwathy V Nair, is a chamber where the events unfold in a posh house in Chennai, between freelance journalist Sunil Das (Asif Ali) and a middle-aged woman, Mrs Parekh (Madhubala). Sunil comes across an advertisement given by Mrs. Parekh for the sale of certain items in her house. As Sunil visits her spacious house, an unusual friendship forms between them, driven more by their shared sense of loneliness than by any sexual attraction. The quiet space of the house becomes a refuge for both characters to examine their respective lives. The frequent ringing of the telephone or doorbell serves as interruptions that remind them of the outside world and the realities they must eventually face. The cinematography by Divakar Mani captures the two characters in the vast expanse of the house, visually emphasizing how, despite being together, they remain socially distant. The use of a song to depict the passage of time feels out of place and doesn’t blend well with the overall tone of the film. The two principal characters deliver controlled performances. However, the idea and central theme of the story are not effectively conveyed, leaving the overall experience unsatisfactory.
Mahesh Narayanan’s Sherlock, also a chamber drama, is a poignant story about the struggle to accept difficult situations that we often wish to avoid but ultimately feel the need to confront. The titular character in the film is a cat, which becomes a medium through which the two characters cope with the bitter realities of their lives. Balu (Fahadh Faasil) visits his married sister (Nadia Moidu) in one of the snow-covered cities of the US to begin his life anew. She has adjusted herself to the American work culture, while Balu is slowly acclimating to his new environment. He feels both protected and trapped within the house and finds solace in the company of her sister, and trips to the supermarket provide him with a sense of cocoon-like security. However, when he steps out alone to buy a bottle of vodka, he witnesses an incident of racial discrimination. This serves as a harsh reminder of the challenges he will have to overcome in his new surroundings. As the film comes to an end, it reflects on failures from our past and the façades we put on to pretend that we have moved on from those failures. But in reality, there is still a lot of unresolved pain, and one can never truly move on completely. There is always a corner of the heart where these failures continue to linger. Narayanan, who is also the cinematographer, showcases a series of wonderful moments between Balu and the cat that never feel overdone. From being a disturbing presence to finding companionship, the relationship that Balu develops with the cat evolves significantly. The feline creature becomes an emotional anchor for Balu, providing him with comfort and a sense of connection amid his struggles and loneliness. These subtle moments leave us with a sense of awe, making it undeniably the best film in the lot.
In Kadalkkaattu (Sea Breeze), Keshav (Indrajith) is a married man who works in an office owned by the British. He is having an affair with a young Christian girl, Margareth (Ann Augustine), due to which he is negligent in his duties to his wife, Bharathi (Aparna Balamurali), and her daughter. None of the characters in the film bring a freshness to their characters and are interesting to watch. The dialogues, though delivered with conviction by the characters, are reflective of the style typical of television shows. The demands of a plot that deviates from the central theme of a man having an illicit affair with a modern woman while neglecting his traditional wife prevent the film from evolving into a reflective tale of infidelity and forgiveness. Santosh Sivan’s Abhyam Theedi Veendum (Once Again, In Search of Refuge) narrates the tale of a nameless traveler (Siddique) who visits a village to rent a house of shelter. The villagers help him to find one in an old house belonging to the reputed man Yemaan. Once he starts living in the house, memories from his past, especially one associated with a mysterious woman, start to appear before him. Sivan’s aesthetic daring is on display in its basic cinematic elements of visual framing and editing, sound design, and dramatic composition; he tells the story with a calmly controlled, imagistic ecstasy. Through aesthetic refinement and empathetic imagination, the film turns a documentary-like attention to landscape and architecture, custom and costume, food and artifacts, into a radical subjectivity that forms the thematic core. The film glorifies all the tactile pleasures of the world that the living are too misguided and blind to see, which ultimately becomes too esoteric for us to fully appreciate its deeper significance and meaning. A simplification of the narrative would have made it more accessible and easier to connect with. It would have allowed the underlying concepts and messages to resonate more effectively with us.
In Jayaraj’s Swargam Thurakkuna Samayam (When Doors of Heaven Open), an old man, Thampuran Madhavan Mash (Nedumudi Venu), has fallen ill. His family members are assuming that he will leave for his heavenly abode soon. Kuttinarayanan (Indrans), a villager who can predict the time of death and does all the prerequisite arrangements, is summoned to the house. Madhavan’s children turn up, taking a momentary break from their busy lives. As they await the inevitable to happen, the dynamics between the various family members are revealed, and the neglect towards the old man becomes increasingly apparent. Under the skilled direction of the filmmaker, the narrative strikes a chord with our emotions without resorting to overt melodrama. Though the film’s story advocates for domestic togetherness, it also recognizes that some things are more important than merely keeping the peace and maintaining appearances. It openly acknowledges the problems that affect family life when the younger generation settles in places far from home due to their occupations, leaving their duties towards their aged parents unattended. Thus, it is a film about old people who, having survived those upheavals, now face the harsh reality of being forgotten by the world around them. This honest portrayal makes it a fitting conclusion to the anthology.
When a film is adapted from a literary source, there is always scope to allow for a richer narrative experience, where the depth and nuance of written language are enhanced by the visual and auditory power of cinema. It should also introduce new interpretations, perspectives, and layers of meaning to the literary work. Unfortunately, despite being overseen by various critically acclaimed directors, Manorathangal only succeeds in achieving this with a few of its segments. Most of the films in this anthology, while trying to remain true to the original text, have struggled to capture its essence effectively. As a result, there is a grave lack of cohesion and impact. Hence, the overall experience of watching MT Vasudevan Nair’s selected short stories translated to the screen lacks cinematic brilliance and vision. I hope that if there is a second season, such issues will be addressed and rectified.
