Sarcasm is the highest form of wit in Mallu cinema

Humour from this part of the South, delivered in typical Mallu accents from Thrissur to Thiruvananthapuram, has always been about repartee and retort. (Illustration by Suneesh K.)

Sarcasm, satire, sardonic asides – these are a few of every Malayalee’s favourite things. Replies that verge on the rude, an eye roll before punchline, rehearsed exit lines… Suffice to say any self-respecting Mallu wants to have the last word.

Humour from this part of the South, delivered in typical Mallu accents from Thrissur to Thiruvananthapuram, has always been about repartee and retort. One-liners that may pass you by if you are still busy laughing at the previous one. Sprung on us in the spring of Priyadarshan films – classics like Vellanakalude Nadu (The Land of White Elephants), Chithram, Vandanam, Akkare Akkare Akkare (Far, Far Away) – where general concerns made a giggly cocktail with light-hearted dialogues.

Mohanlal and Sreenivasan were a cult pairing, famously in Nadodikkattu (Gypsy Breeze), with the jest mainly in their small talk. Just like a good romance showcases witty banter between the boy and girl, good chemistry between any two characters is comedy gold, and this pair delivered each time.

The lead couple in a film may be ha ha or not, but it is always the minor characters whose performances fuel the funny. In ensemble casts every artist counts, right down to the extra with the littlest to do. The work of comedians like KPAC Lalitha, Kalpana and Sukumari, made the ordinary women they played relatable for the brilliant display of casual quips. Their appearance in a scene instantly lightened the audience mood: Lalitha in Manichitrathazhu (The Ornate Lock), Kalpana in Bangalore Days and Sukumari in Boeing Boeing. Their passing has made Malayalam cinema grimmer in every way.

Mohanlal easily mixing ‘komali’ into most of his everyday-man roles, like in Vietnam Colony and Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam (roughly translated: Peace to Good People), and Sreenivasan bringing his self-deprecating wit into magnum opuses like Vadakkunoktiyantram (Compass). Actors like Mukesh, Jagadish, Jagathy Sreekumar adding their bit in seamless hilarity. Innocent, who is iconic in all his roles, was especially so in Kilukkam (Jingle) where his exchange with his employer (actor Thilakan) after he ‘wins’ a lottery is a masterpiece in drollery.

New-age cinema from the state has started ‘thinking’, so that the comedy gets more refined. Roles like Fahadh Faasil’s in Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum (The Mainour and the Witness), or like Kunchacko Boban’s in Nna Thaan Case Kodu (So Sue Me), where both play petty thieves fighting the system make for extraordinary amusement. Both situational and intelligent, the witticisms arise in the most ordinary of conversations.

Not too many younger women yet in this field, that gender more difficult to locate in out-and-out laughathons. The comic timing of an Urvashi in Thalayana Manthram (Pillow Talk) or Manju Warrier in her earlier outings cannot be appreciated enough. But perhaps we are getting there if we go by what Nimisha Sajayan left unsaid in The Great Indian Kitchen.

Wit is plotting its matinee moment. As someone said in Kumbalangi Nights, ‘Poda, mass nokki kalikaanulla kali alla ithu, bhudhi upayagikanam,’ approximately translated as: This is no game to play with the masses in mind, you have to use your brains!