Some films are inspired by other films, while some are a ditto copy. Where Hindi police comedy Kathal seems to carry forward the spark from Malayalam hits Nna Than Case Kodu and Jaya Jaya Jaya Jaya Hey, complete with a quirky judge, the latest Malayalam film Neelavelicham is a faithful remake of Bhargavi Nilayam.
Based on the short story, 'Neelavelicham (blue light)', by Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, the original film, Bhargavi Nilayam, was made in 1964, a black and white ghost story. According to the norms of the time, the jumpstarts were loud and all ghostly antics overdramatic. In the here and now, apart from the introduction of colour, the performances are less theatrical as per current norms.
When a popular film is born again, comparisons are inevitable. A fair review of the later version is hampered by nostalgia and great expectations. With the original going down as lore, a trailblazer of its own time, imitation can sometimes just be flattery.
Neelavelicham casts a sincere glow on its ancestor, literally shining a blue light in the title scene – which, as reviewers pointed out – makes it stand apart. However, a scene by scene follow-up renders the plot see-through; audiences know where all the suspense is going, no surprises there. The trajectory has been laid down by its own history, we know the ending.
On the plus side is the fidelity to the period. Clothes, dialogue delivery, song and dance, hair styles… all conform to a certain era. Actor Tovino Thomas as the solitude-loving writer moving into the haunted cottage has his own natural style while taking on Madhu from Bhargavi Nilayam. Tovino brings with him a calm acceptance of any spirit on the premises. But the ghost is less ghostly in Neelavelicham. Rima Kallingal as Bhargavi, in a more realistic form, strikes less terror in audience hearts. The previous phantom, played by Vijaya Nirmala, went with the usual glare associated with her kind.
It is the cinematography that scores qualitatively – every scene in Neelavelicham is like a painting. Framed aesthetically, the shots suit the surreal mood of the film. Comparisons can admit to this superiority. But that again is a trick of modernity. When the ghost bursts into song – pottithakarna kinavu kondu oru pattunoolunjala ketti njan (I made a silken swing out of my shattered dreams) – the arc of her feet cutting through the night makes for eerie viewing.
The repeat of songs is a merciful act. The original had just the apt music and lyrics for a haunted house. Bhargavi in both films remains a ghoul of great poetry and flamboyance. She continues to wear white saris. She remains partial to alliteration while singing. She is still surrounded by her lover, her fiancé foe and the fearless author who moves into the old house despite the cobwebs and warnings.
The role of the writer who was friends with a ghost can be spooky for other reasons when revisited almost six decades later. He is back, too, from the dead, from another hit long ago, and must give us a reason why.
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