Kaalapani during the Marakkar weekend!

This weekend was supposed to be Malayalam cinema's event of 2020, a record breaking opening was ensured, 500 screens in Kerala, an 'industry hit' that was almost 

pre-ordained according to the fans, Malayalam cinema's answer to Bahubali, the movie that would put Malayalam cinema on the world map, Marakkar Arabikkadalinte

Simham. It might look silly to lament on a postponed release in these times when life has been put on standby mode, but this is not about Marakkar; his time will

come sooner or later. This is about Priyadarshan's Govardhan, the prisoner in Cellular Jail who never returned. On Saturday, watching Kaalapani on Asianet from within

the confines of my home, I reflected on how cinema and our perception of it had changed over these 24 years with some scattered recollections of how Kaalapani had

been received back then.

Too costly for Malayalam?

Kaalapani was the Marakkar of 96. That was a time when the budget of a movie was perhaps not as intensely scrutinized or talked about as it is now. But, even in those

times, the scale of Kaalapani generated a lot of curiosity amongst the general audience. There was talk that this was too big for Malayalam cinema, that Mohanlal the

producer had erred in his judgment. Back then, everyone waited for a good two weeks before pronouncing the verdict on a movie. When Kaalapani released, the 

feeling was one of impending doom, that no matter how good this movie turned out to be, it would never bring back the money that had been put into it.Maybe I was too

young back then, but I remember getting the feeling that many people waited for the news on Kaalapani expecting a Goliath-like debacle that could be talked about around

dinner tables for months to come. Did that news come? Yes and no! It was not a debacle by any means, and there are still furious debates around this in fan circles.

For a movie that reportedly raised the budget bar of Malayalam movies by nearly 250%, a profit was nearly unimaginable, a prophecy which many people wanted to see

fulfilled to have that 'I told you so' moment. Years after Kaalapani, Priyadarshan reminisced about a remark that had come from another senior director over lunch.

Discussing Kaalapani, the senior director had wondered about how many small movies could have been made with the money splurged on Kaalapani. On the lunch table that day

was a plate of biriyani, and Priyadarshan, according to his recollection, had to fight back a temptation to ask how many idlis could have been bought at the cost of 

the biryani. That was the kind of pessimism that shrouded Kaalapani when it was announced, made and released. BUt, 25 years later, there isn't that kind of pessimism 

around Marakkar. Malayalam cinema has stretched it's limits multiple times in the last decade thanks to Pazhassiraja, Urumi, Drishyam,Premam, Pulimurugan and Luficer.

Now there is a feeling that if the movie is good enough, any budget is justified.

Priyadarshan's politics?

1996 was a time when cinema was looked upon as just cinema, and we look back fondly at those times. Kaalapani released, and for many of my generation, that was the first

we heard the name Veer Savarkar. I am not sure if I was too young or too naive at the time to understand if the movie exposed any political leanings of its writer

and director. But, as the years have gone by, more and more people have dug into the politics of Kaalapani and come up with their own interpretations. These are times

when it's almost impossible for a prominent film personality to remain apolitical in the public view. Priyadarshan has not tried to remain apolitical and has been

quite open on social media about his preferences. Maybe it is this very open admission by Priyadarshan that has lead people to look much more closely at the 

politics of Kaalapani. Nearly 20 years after its initial release, I heard that Kaalapani was an exercise in glorifying Savarkar! Really? I had never thought about it

that way. But, when doubts are planted in your mind, you start looking at things differently, you start looking to read between lines. Watching Kaalapani again in 

changed times and much more politically polarised climate makes you look at certain portions with suspicion. Yes, Savarkar is being shown as a hero! But, maybe he

really was a hero in the Cellular Jail at that time. Yes, you see quite a direct jibe at the Congress which is branded as the party that was founded by wealthy and

the priveleged to protect their interests, and the Communist is branded as an outfit that promotes violence. All this in the space of two minutes. There was 

enforced coprophagia on a Brahmin by a tyrannical jail warden who happened to be Muslim! Put it all together

and couple it with the obvious political leaning on Priyadarshan's social media - well, Kaalapani does not look so innocent anymore! It's at times like these that one

hopes we could go back to the 90s where cinema was seen as a story shown on the screen for 3 hours, after which we got on with our lives. No one bothered about the 

director's political inclinations, no one got offended by a few lines here or there. In 2020, Priyadarshan's real-life political leanings have already caused a 

debate about how he will present Marakkar, a hero from a community that is at loggerheads with the political outfit that the director beleives in. It was all so

simple back then.

What's with the accent?

How historically accurate is it? Everytime a period movie comes out, we keep going back to this question. Back in 1996, Kaalapani was as accurate as a Malayalam

movie had ever got with the pre-independence era. For the average viewer, there was nothing that could be faulted. Maybe the highly read or the politically

inclined had a question or two to ask about how Savarkar was represented. But, there was one very minute detail picked up by som prominent intellectual of the time,

you could even call it picky. Remember David Barry, the sadistic jailor who inflicted the most unimaginable cruelties on the inmates of his jail, through Mirza Khan 

of course! The problem, or so it was said, was that Barry spoke with an Irish accent in the movie. How could a British jailor have an Irish accent, the critic/

intellectual had wondered aloud? For those of us that cannot tell the difference between the two accents, it didn't matter. But, could Priyadarshan too have been

ignorant of the fact that British and Irish accents are different, or did he just cast the actor available? Neither Priyadarshan nor anyone associated with

Kaalapani responded to this at that time, they obviously had other things on their mind. But, many years later someone else said casually in an interview that the

Irish accent was not a mistake, it was there because the real David Barry was of Irish descent. The accent/slang trouble has been with Priyadarshan since then I guess.

In 2003, the most hated thing about Kilichundan Mambazham was Mohanlal's artifical North Kerala slang, which is trolled even today, and which was the biggest bone of

contention between fan camps when Marakkar's first teaser released. 

Did Mohanlal really lick it?

Classrooms those days were always divided into two camps! If it was Rajni vs Kamal in TN, it was Mammootty vs Mohanlal in Kerala. And, when Kaalapani released the big

debate was whether Mohanlal really licked Amrish Puri's shoes. Those were conflicting times for young fans of both Mohanlal and Mammootty. Neither knew whether it was

a good thing that an actor had shown enough committment, or a sign that Bollywood villains were a step above Malayalam heroes! Silly as it may sound now, this was a 

genuine dilemma back then. To see your favorite hero bend down and lick a Hindi villain's boots did evoke mixed feelings. Those were also the days when movie news 

could be found only in Nana or one other weekly, unlike now when every shooting spot event is out on Youtube even before the movie has released. It was quite a few

years after Kaalapani's release that we began to hear stories of how Amrish Puri burst into tears after Mohanlal did the 'boot licking' shot for real. That did puff up

the pride of the young Mohanlal fan, knowing that the great Mogambo had been moved to tears by your idol! It was also a turning point in fanship for many I beleive.

Mohanlal did not need to be the Aadu Thoma or Mangalasseri Neelakanthan to make his fans feel proud, showing unimaginable commitment to every frame in a movie was 

equally clapworthy! Marakkar faces the same question. Will it play to the gallery, will it stop the narrative at Marakkar's highest point, his victorious battle, or

will it show how he eventually fell?

What's 'tatti'?

For those who have learnt Hindi in Kerala or in the south schools in general, the word 'tatti' was not part of the vocabulary. After all, schools do not teach 'slang'.

So, when Amrish Puri force fed 'tatti' to Tinnu Anand (all characters spoke their native tongue in Kaalapani, unlike now when directors conveniently say that all

characters will be speaking in Tamil irrespective of where they come from or where the story is happening), me and many, who only knew Hindi through textbooks, wondered

what was being forced down his throat through the funnel. Some kind of non-veg broth I imagined at first because the conflict was all about Tinnu Anand's hunger strike 

over being asked to eat non-veg food. It took quite some asking around to finally find a person who knew what 'tatti' meant! And, when I found out, I hoped I hadn't 

asked.

For a generation of audiences who's memories start from the 90s, Kaalapani was Malayalam cinema's first spectacle! Now, spectacles have become commonplace. Sometimes

movies that aren't spectacles are hyped up to be so (the offspring of Narasimham and Aaram Thamburan comes to mind). But, Marakkar promises to reset the scales of what

a 'spectacle' in Malayalam cinema is supposed to be, like Kaalapani did back in 96. And for that, we wait patiently!