The flutter caused by Rajeev Ravi in his interview has suddenly thrust a rather silent, ‘I-do-my-work’ filmmaker into the wrong side of the spotlight.
Reading more like a rant-fest with a friendly reporter, the interview brings out candid, personal views by Rajeev on film, the industry, his passion for a new collective that is not restricted to cinema but extends to organic farming, and even a bold visionary statement on his vision to bringing films direct to the audience that will break the current distributor nexus.
None of this was noticed by readers who instead focused on Rajeev punching his feeble might against three legends, nay idols, in the film industry; our own Sreenivasan, our next-door Mani Ratnam and Hollywood’s Quentin Tarantino.
In one shot, Rajeev (allegedly – as we must say now given that his wife has come forward stating the interview was twisted out of context, yes that lame excuse… and then again denying a Manorama Online report) alienated many generations of film lovers.
The reactions became personal. “Who is Rajeev Ravi?’ was the main refrain – ?????? ??? ????? – (as Google translate would decode respectfully, or ‘aaredaa rajeev ravi’ as it really would mean).
The oil to stoke the fire came from the sons of Sreenivasan, both with a fantastic following on social media.
While the elder Vineeth made his displeasure vehement and was promptly liked by some 9000 plus of his 144,000 fans, the junior Dhyan’s comments were typically amateurish rounding off with ‘achane patti paranjal sahikilla.’ That fetched some 300 likes from his 81,000 followers.
And then the irreverence flowed.
Malayalis, young and old alike (but mostly the youth), went on a virtual rampage abusing, insulting and reducing Rajeev into a good-for-nothing zombie. The man’s credentials became irrelevant. That the man was sharing his own views – on cinema and the industry – became inconsequential.
Meanwhile, Sreenivasan maintained dignified silence; the king of satire, who has taken on anyone from Mammootty to Mohanlal and our veteran directors – perhaps must have taken the comments in the right spirit.
After all, the right to criticize comes with the right to be criticized – and if Sreenivasan doesn’t know it, who would?
We are not to go into the merits or demerits of Rajeev’s personal opinion against the three filmmakers. Anyone can deconstruct Rajeev’s views and challenge him with his own pedigree of working in outright commercial films that are made for entertainment.
In fact, Rajeev had worked on two movies of Lal Jose, a filmmaker whose visual sense is undoubtedly hinged on Mani Ratnam’s style. As for Quentin Tarantino, whoever said his films were meant for any other reason than entertainment?
Rajeev’s own contention of viewing films as non-entertainment and as a work in progress (like a novel without preconceived notions) is his personal view. Perhaps he found the strength to state his conviction only now after two movies and his wife’s Liar’s Dice making the first cut to the Oscars.
But what is disturbing about the entire incident is the utter irreverence of Malayalis.
And sadly, that starts with Rajeev Ravi himself.
Our views on others are sacrosanct where our nose ends, and not beyond. To dip his words in sheer hatred, despite its air of candour, was toilet-talk brought to the living room.
But even worse is how the rest of Kerala has been revelling in taking bitter swipes at Rajeev, Sreenivasan and everyone else mentioned in the story. Sreeni- and his son-lovers tear apart Rajeev, while the others trash Vineeth’s movies and cite Sreeni’s own penchant for criticism.
Our effortless ease at dissing idols is perhaps part of our collective DNA. Perhaps as a community we are the ‘love to haters’ compared to the Tamils who are lovers or haters.
We love to hate anyone – from Renjini Haridas to Manju Warrier to Aashiq Abu to Rajeev Ravi – anyone who does not conform to our set prejudices. And yet we love to suck up with unabashed glee. That is what we see in the empty worship for a Thattathin Marayathu maker while a National Award winner’s credentials are rubbished.
And that is why anything from a ‘Kiss of Love’ to an innocuous film release evinces such violent outbursts among Malayalis in social media, while real issues (whatever that means – or to be intellectually right, issues relating to environment, poverty, hunger, unemployment) hardly cause a flutter. See, there is no one to ‘love to hate’ here.
We are irreverent rascals but our grizzly anger outpours only when it suits our pettiness.
We will happily pull down an Adoor but worship a Nivin Pauly or Asif Ali. Is this trend a youth thing? Where our youth seem to have forgotten the fundamental value of respect?
As I always contend, Malayalis are the best when they come in singles; as a collective we really are too toxic for our own good. And the social media generation isn’t helping our cause one wee bit.
ENDS
