Gautham Karthik’s earlier attempt at cashing in on caste pride and establishing a market in certain important pockets of Tamil Nadu failed miserably. Muthuramalingam was ridiculed beyond reproach. The film, its hero, the supporting characters, and even a goat was made the laughing stock of Tamil cinema. It threw Gautham so much off the radar that he resorted to adult comedies to bring his career back on track. And then… Devarattam happened.
This is why I don’t buy the whole ‘I’m so jovial and naive’ facade that the ‘Navarasa Ilavarasan’ puts up. In almost every pre-release interview, he gives off the vibes that this film, and its title, is something beyond his scope of comprehension. I don’t, for a moment, think he genuinely thought Devarattam refers to a dance form practiced in Tamil Nadu. It is clear he knew what he was getting into, and at the end of the day, I understand, it is all about economics, and of course, caste.
For a film, whose title sparked rightful outrage, Devarattam, can easily be written off as a harmless movie. It speaks about the bonding shared by a Kadaikutty Singam-type family. It shouts about the violence meted out to women. It subtly takes down social media, and people wielding their smartphones and not coming to help in times of emergencies. It believes in vigilante justice, and the necessity for violence to set things right in society. Not just that, there is also a working heroine, nods to the importance of education, and of course, body-shaming racist jokes. Now, don’t we all love that kind of a film?
At the interval block when Gautham as Vetri runs faster than a car, punches harder than a boxer, and wields a sickle with utmost swag, I saw an audience member flexing his muscles, and cracking his knuckles. He was ready. He was pumped up. He was raring to exact similar justice. He could have been brushed off as just your everyday man who sees the hero’s violence as cathartic, if not for not-so-subtle caste references strewn in the film, and that person cheering loud for every such statement.
Did Muthaiya mention the caste of Vetri and his family? Explicitly, no, but the signs are there. Years of Tamil cinema open your eyes to the references used liberally. Random appearances of Pasumpon Muthuramalinga Thevar statues and posters. Even in a comedy scene, you have posters of Sivaji Ganesan as Periya Thevar blessing a newly-married couple. When there is a photo of Netaji Subash Chandra Bose, you get reminded of that iconic conversation between Sivaji and Kamal Haasan in the 1992 film, Thevar Magan.
But again, how is Devarattam casteist if there are no blatant scenes of oppression? How is it even casteist if there are no Potri paadadi ponnes or Ejamaan kaaladi manneduthus or Mundaasu Suriyane type of songs? Isn’t the Che Guevara t-shirts donning Vetri’s house having Communist leader Nalla Kannu’s photo in his house exemplify the film’s non-caste stance? I watched “The invisible other” documentary, about caste in Tamil cinema, immediately after the film to answer such questions in my head.
You might think the whole “Real bravery of men lies in protecting the womenfolk” is an outdated concept. The applause in a Chennai theatre breaks that myth. You believe “Education can make people move out of this vicious cycle of birth, violence, and death.” But then Muthaiya espouses philosophies that equates education to a waste of time if it quells the reactionary anger against ills of the society. You think the respect for the women characters in this film is a step forward. But that completely unnecessary Rathakanneer Kantha reference is seven steps backward, especially because this is addressed to the son of a dreaded gangster in Madurai. Couldn’t you have just called him an *insert gender-neutral expletive* Rowdy Mavane?
To give credit where it is due, Devarattam does find a convincing trajectory to mount its story — Class. It is a wafer-thin plot about an angry young lawyer, mothered by six sisters and their families, exacting vigilante justice against people who commit crimes against women. There is complete disdain towards the rich people, and the presence of completely incompetent police forces the law student in Vetri to resort to bashing people up. “Panakkara veetu pasanga ipdi dhaan thappu pannuvaanga, sila peru aasai ku sila peru aathrathukku,” says a villain shielding another prick who has drugged and raped a woman who insulted him in public. When they are bashed around on the streets of Madurai, you find the violence gratuitous. I don’t mind watching a violent man with a moral compass. Every Star vehicle in Tamil cinema is more or less varied versions of this man. But, when you paint it with a particular colour, you start questioning your decision to accept this in the first place. As a person in that documentary points out, people are confusing rowdyism and violence with bravery.
Despite some impressive acting by Vinodini Vaidhyanathan, the on-point hamming by FEFSI Vijayan, a decent seen-to-death plot point, the ‘Only one joke out of 100 will land’ humour of Soori, very impressive music by Nivas K Prasanna (Pasappukali is lovely), and an unfortunately written heroine role for Manjima, Devarattam is clear with its intent: A showreel for Gautham Karthik, and for the most part, you buy the mass hero avatar of the Kadal actor. He might not be a convincing performer, but he is surely good in the dance and stunt departments. Though the ‘respect women’ campaign running throughout the film is believable, there is a scene towards the end that reminds you that everything in this film was just superficial, and more importantly, farcical. Forced by his family to go into hiding from the villain, a gruesome death brings Vetri come out in the open. Talking to his family members who are egging him on to bump of the villain, Vetri says, “Poo vechu, podava katti, pombala maadhri anuppi vittu, ipo poi avana podu na epdi?” How is this statement even remotely respecting women? But, as always, Muthaiya gets away with these obvious flaws because Devarattam is overarchingly about the safety of women, and anything said against this movie becomes an exercise in futility. People come in droves to defend this film.
There are people pointing out the double standards of exalting a Pa Ranjith film and not a Muthaiya film, when both speak of caste(But there is a huge difference between representation and glorification). There are people defending this film because it is an accurate representation of their way of life(But there is a huge difference between representation and glorification). There are reviewers who refer to the audience not in favour of this film as the “English-speaking Avengers-loving crowd”(yeah, right… But there is a huge difference between representation and glorification).
In its own twisted way, I’m happy that Muthaiya decided to name this film Devarattam, and not named it after the hero’s onscreen name (Kutti Puli, Komban, Marudhu, Kodi Veeran) as he always does. A rose by any other name still smells as sweet, said the bard from Stratsford-upon-Avon. However, if Muthaiya and Co hadn’t named the film Devarattam, a sizeable percentage of the audience wouldn’t have caught these caste references and smelt the you-know-what surrounding the cast and crew’s vehement denial of this film being a jaadhi padam. We would have brought it too, considering how well-made this film is, as opposed to a Muthuramalingam. They almost managed to pull a fast one, but clearly, you-know-what blinded their eyes.
Avinash Ramachandran 