Scriptwriter T. Damodaran, Malayalam films and yours truly

Maybe I fell in love with movies thanks to T Damodaran, the Malayalam scriptwriter who passed away today. 

Every movie of his I have watched also remains a memory, not cluttered with other movies – perhaps it was because of the celebration that accompanied the T Damodaran-IV Sasi combo; or maybe because for the first time, Damodaran, sort of, brought out the natural heroism in Malayalis, which you watched with awe.

As memories go, let me start with Ezham Kadalinakkare, the first movie apparently that brought the marvel of the US to Kerala. Every frame of the movie was absorbed with absolute wonder – the cars being crushed at the scrapyard, the Niagra Falls, the dophins – and yes, Seema!

And then came Angadi – and we got Jayan, a new raw Jayan, not super-humanized as Joshy was insisting on doing with Benz Vasu. Watched the film with my grandma, at Attingal Gouri, through three days – the first two days interrupted due to a power cut; imagine the crushing disappointment of a kid who was raving to listen to and watch Kannum Kannum, and the ‘we are not beggars’ classic, and even h ad a red banian a la the hero!

Then came Meen, the film set in Neendakara; remember being charmed by Jose as he sang Ullasapoothirikal and Sangeethame; and mesmerized by Jayan, the underdog whom we all rooted for. And how can I forget the imposing presence of Madhu!

Karimbana, for some reason, was out of bounds for me when it released – perhaps it was because of the buxom bosoms of the heroines flaunted on the posters; I would watch it later, much after Jayan’s death, the joy of watching my favourite hero, who decorated every inch of my wall in my teens, still undiminished.

Kanthavalayam was the must-watch for us, if only to watch Jayan  – those were movies that brought out the star charisma of the actor, a trait that T Damodaran perfected with every film that would follow.

While my affinity for Mammootty was flagged off with a film called Oothikachiya Ponnu, based on a painkili (didn’t know what it was then) novel that was being serialized in Manorama weekly then, I think I felt drawn to him with Ahimsa.

T Damodaran then did the unpardonable: He tried to replace my idol, Jayan, with Ratheesh in Thusharam. (They didn’t have a choice; Jayan was dead and they needed to move ahead, but for us diehard fans, Jayan was the one & only; if there is no Jayan, there must be no movie, was our argument then). He and IV Sasi also gave us a new villain- Jaffar Khan, whom my uncle loved. I wasn’t too convinced of Ratheesh then; much less with Bheeman Raghu.

By the time Ee Nadu came, I had hardly matured into any serious film lover, but I was truly baffled at the cheekiness of Sasi and Damodaran to make a film that sort of defied all prevailing tradition. Damnit – it even had a rip off of Ra Ra Rasputin, and the social commentary wasn’t all that lost on me. I hated Raveendran for raping Rani Padmini, and having by then realised that I wasn’t all that rich, hated ‘the rich guys at college’ even more. So, it was only natural to jump up, clap and whistle, when finally Krishnachandran breaks that Thumps Up bottle to say he wants to study.

I remember watching Innalenkil Naale, almost liking the anti-hero role of Mammootty, and jumping queues to watch Iniyenkilum at Thiruvananthapuram Sree Padmanabha, and almost being disappointed because, by then the social criticism was becoming wearisome. Perhaps it was a realisation that we are destined to doom (and so our society and politicians have proved).

Kaathathe Kilikoodu and Ithiri Poove (both by Bharathan) were absolute revelations. Loved every frame of both movies, though I still haven’t understood why the ‘naxal-looking-chap’ who was among the audience in the Calicut theatre, where I watched Ithiri Poove, stood up and let out a long boo, after the movie. Maybe, he expected the dissidents in the movie to triumph. My sympathies were strongly with Mammootty by then.

I gave a skip to Unaroo then for the simple reason that it I wasn’t bothered to acknowledge this new chap Mani Rathnam – how dare he replace IV Sasi, and how dare he cast Mohanlal in the lead! See, my loyalties are very firm when it comes to movies, until they change, which doesn’t take much anyway. Later, when I watched the movie on VCD, it gave little thrills. I was kicking myself anyway for not having patronized Mani Ratnam right at his first outing in Malayalam.

Angadikappurathu was another startling revelation – and who else could have pulled a long-drawn lesbian encounter in mainstream Malayalam cinema other than Sasi and Damodaran. Ahem, I leave it at that.

Damodaran instilled that love for journalism with Vaartha; guess I might have wanted to be the Madhavankutty; and guess I got stunted even before I started my career. That is another story.

Most recently, I rediscovered 1921, after chasing my passion for Malabar history – and fed on a diet of William Logan, I was seething at the historical liberties Damodaran took with the movie; it was a politicallycorrect exercise; perhaps that is the only way now, given how divided we, as a state, really are on religious and cultural grounds. Will anyone take a criticism against any wrongful acts of any religious community kindly now? Even when it has nothing to do with faith but plain human greed?

Damodran gave us the Inspector Balram, and defined the angry inspector in Mammootty (‘you hurt me a lot Balu, you hurt me a lot – remember that by Murali – well, we laughed at it at college, sadly); he gave us the loveable underdogs that only Mohanalal could pull off in Aryan and Abhimanyu; he also gave us Kaala Paani, and that delightful Anaval Mothiram, about a scared police inspector (who else but Srinivasan), a movie that is close to my heart for reasons other than film. Suffice to say that it was watched in Trichur Ragam – and Trichur, I believe is the ultimate romantic destination in Kerala. If you want to experience love, walk through the night round the ‘round’ hand-in-hand, with only the neon lights and a slight drizzle to boot.

By the time Damodaran reached Balram vs Taradas, his fire was dampened – perhaps in the need to compromise.

Wouldn’t blame him for that; after all, has Malayalam cinema been ever kind to any one? 

You are put on a pedestal when it pours money, and dumped mercilessly before you wink. And yes, by now, the way films are seen and perceived has also changed. 

Well, we live in the age of admakers posing as filmmakers, and cameramen putting their craft over the heart of the film. 

Damn, we do live in a sad age – where Avial continues to make music and pollute us with earworms. We even have a spoof on Santosh Pandit, one spoof of a stale joke on the first hand, coming up.

Perhaps, Damodaran passed away just in time.

ENDS