There are two scenes in Jeo Baby’s Kaathal: The Core where Matthew Devassy’s (Mammootty) hands tell his story. In one scene, his wife Omana (Jyotika) congratulates him, but he can hardly bring himself to hold her hands. They’re in the middle of a divorce, and he is decidedly awkward with her touch. In another scene, he hands over a pamphlet to a man. Someone he has known and loved for a lifetime. He is awkward here too, but with longing and a sense of apology. Their fingers barely touch but there is so much fire in the pouring rain that surrounds them.
Mammootty’s last release was the cop film Kannur Squad (2023) where he plays a dedicated police officer on the hunt for a criminal gang. His body language as George Martin was that of a confident, hard-nosed cop who never gives up. In contrast, Matthew Devassy has an air of resignation about him. Even when he lies down in bed, he appears to take as little space as possible. This is a man who has stopped having expectations from life.
Baby demonstrated his deep understanding of the oppressive structures within the Indian family in his path-breaking film The Great Indian Kitchen (2021). Kaathal, written by Adarsh Sukumaran and Paulson Skaria, is also about one such family where everything is normal on the surface but nothing is as it seems. Matthew, a retired bank official, is set to contest an upcoming by-election as the candidate of a Left party. But right before he files his nomination, it is revealed that Omana, his wife of 20 years, has filed for divorce on the grounds of cruelty.
Also read: Jeo Baby: ‘Mammootty understood the relevance of the story, keen on polishing the screenplay’
Matthew isn’t a violent or abusive man, but Omana’s contention is that her husband is gay and that she has been denied her conjugal rights in the marriage. Unlike Marriage Story (2019) where the anatomy of a marriage spills out in flesh, blood and tears through the process of divorce, the marriage in Kaathal is so dull that there are no emotions left. The marriage has reached a phase where all the arguments have already played out. The confrontations are over. The tears have dried up and the drama has died down. There is nothing left to say. Omana has understood this, but Matthew doesn’t want to accept it.
The writing deliberately avoids repeating slurs or jokes about the queer community on screen – this is a brave and important decision. Though it might have been realistic for characters to mock a man who is perceived to be gay, the film would have run the risk of having the audience laugh along. Instead, the film chooses to represent prejudice through curious sidelong glances. A young boy is humiliated by his friends for having a gay relative – but the screenplay doesn’t showcase the insults. We see him being consoled by the relative later. A mother has explained to her daughter the truth about her father – this might have involved anger, frustration, disbelief and denial. But that scene isn’t there in the film. What we see is the daughter telling her father – after she has had the time to process the information – that she accepts him. Affirming, healing words. Similarly, a father forces his son to be “normal”, but the screenplay does not contain that painful scene. Instead, we are witness to a tender reconciliation.
Without amplifying pre-existing biases towards queer people, the writing draws empathy out of the viewers. This is remarkable and needs to become the standard for telling stories about marginalised communities.
Steady and sure-footed, Kaathal sketches the portrait of a couple forced to live together because of regressive laws, religion and social prejudices. The cast is spectacular — Mammootty (who also produced the film) has gone where no superstar of his stature has gone before him, and he seems to be in no mood to stop. From his body language to the dialogue delivery, Mammootty embraces Matthew so whole-heartedly that he shatters every trope about masculinity that we have seen on screen.
Also read: How Mammootty continues to surprise the audience 51 years into his career
Jyotika lends ample support by playing Omana with quiet dignity and vulnerability. At first, she is so self-contained that you wonder how she can be so calm. But when she answers questions in court, you see the pain reflected on her face. This woman is still hurting, she has just made the choice not to make a public display of her grief – because she is aware of the repercussions. A young but wise Anagha Maya and a devastatingly restrained R.S. Panicker who form the rest of the family are also good in their respective roles, doing what is necessary and never going overboard.
Sudhi Kozhikode as Thankan is wonderful. He hardly speaks, but his shy glances and shuffling walk tug at your heartstrings, and Mathews Pulickan’s soaring music makes it impossible not to weep. Muthumani and Chinnu Chandni convincingly play lawyers who guide their clients through a difficult divorce. The lines in the courtroom scene are aimed at addressing common notions about queer people, and sometimes, this may appear too deliberate. You worry that the film is going to get preachy and activist-y, a lecture for the audience, but the last 20 minutes of Kaathal bring back the sweeping poetry of that beautiful interval sequence. The hands and the rain. Love and longing.
This is a film that takes its time. Time for an old man to walk slowly down the court to take the stand. Time for a wife to give her bag to her husband and then give her statement. Time for an invisible love story to bloom in front of our eyes. Time for acceptance. Time for love. Time to redefine what family means. Jeo Baby has done it again.
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