Vala Movie: Showtimes, Review, Songs, Trailer, Posters, News & Videos
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Vala is an upcoming Malayalam movie. The movie is directed by Arun Chandu and will feature Basil Joseph, Vineeth Sreenivasan, Aju Varghese and Gokul Suresh as lead characters. Other popular actor who was roped in for Vala is Jagathy Sreekumar.
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The Hindu
22 minutes ago
- The Hindu
How Ramu Kariat's Chemmeen Helped Malayalam Cinema Reckon With Caste, Desire, and Class
Published : Jul 17, 2025 09:11 IST - 7 MINS READ This year marks the 60th anniversary of the making of Chemmeen (Shrimp), which may be said to have first brought Malayalam cinema to the notice of the rest of the country. The director of the film had a short but crowded and creative life: Ramu Kariat was born in 1928 and died in 1979, a life of only 51 years. Much water has flowed down Kerala's picturesque network of palm-lined canals since the making of Balan in 1937. The film was greeted with enthusiasm but, for one or more mysterious reasons, the Malayalam film industry refused to take off in the following decade or so. I use the word 'mysterious' because it was a time: the 1930s and the 1940s, when people in other filmmaking centres in the country were crazy about 'the moving image that also talked. Be that as it may, with due respect to the earliest pioneers of Malayalam cinema, it must be said that the first truly creative spirit on the scene was the maverick Ramu Kariat. Notwithstanding his penchant for combining commerce with art, Kariat set many an original trend, and inspired more than one young filmmaker to aspire for the out-of-the-ordinary. In 1952, Kariat directed Neelakuyil, which brought a touch of maturity and confidence to an industry that fought shy of so-called 'forbidden subjects'. Narrating the story of an affair between a schoolteacher and a so-called untouchable woman, the film caused many tongues to wag and imaginations to wander. As anyone conversant with the southern regional cinemas knows only too well, in matters of choice of subject, if not always in matters of treatment, Kariat anticipated a hundred other films, which were to follow in the four major languages of the South. For instance, many of the Young Turks of the Kannada 'New Wave' who made their reputation critiquing caste in varied manifestations, materialised years after someone like Kariat repeatedly entered the world of social taboos and the 'hazards' of intermingling between the so-called lower and upper castes, particularly Brahmins. Some 13 years after Neelakuyil, Kariat was to make a film that will always be used as a reference point in any serious evaluation of the growth and development of modern Malayalam cinema, which was till the other day the most important regional cinema in the country in terms of both artistry and social exploration. Also Read | New trails of discovery The film in question is Chemmeen, adapted with great visual energy from the legendary Thakazhi's moving odyssey of forbidden love. Marcus Bartley's camera contributed in no small measure to bringing home to viewers not just the tragedy of the doomed lovers, but also the deceptive nocturnal beauty of the long, foaming Kerala coastline, or the way of life by daylight of the fishing community. Added to this were Vayalar's lyrics, Salil Choudhury's music and Manna Dey's singing which, together, gave a soulful twist to the narrative; and last but not the least, the acting of Satyan, Sheela and Madhu. I have yet to come across a Malayalee, especially of my generation, who does not get carried away whilst recalling what Chemmeen did to him in his youth and even long after his salad days were over. Today, when I see Chemmeen in the quiet of my drawing room, I cannot fail to notice the high-pitched, improbable drama in many passages. Obviously, these were meant to move impressionable audiences and thereby do well at the box-office. But when I first saw the film in a south Calcutta theatre, Menoka by name, in the late '60s, surrounded by sobbing Malayalees and Tamilians, I remember having been moved in a strange sort of way. The life of struggle of the coastal fishing community, enacted on an almost epic scale by professionals endowed with rare gifts of expression, stirred one and all. But it was the tragedy of unrequited love that made the Sunday morning audience, living at least a thousand miles away from home, cry like children. The love of melodrama In a discussion of this sort, it is important to consider that every film deserves to be assessed in the backdrop in which it was made, or is made. I say this because sometimes I get to hear that Chemmeen was so successful because large sections of the viewing public love melodrama more than anything else. Truth be told, it betrays a lack of perspective to compare Chemmeen with, say, Kodiyettom or Oridhathu, or some other well-known films of more recent origin. The subjects are different, the treatment is different, the aesthetics or social discourses are different. The conditions in which Kariat and his contemporaries worked were vastly different from those in which Adoor, Aravindan, John, or K.G. George, who learnt much from Kariat, worked. In the days of Kariat, audiences were less developed in their understanding of the film medium than they are today; the film society movement as we know it today, did not exist then; most of the technical collaborators were self-taught, having learnt their craft (or 'trade', if one were not to question the haughtiness of some filmmakers privileged to attend film school); film equipment were often ancient and unpredictable; actors and actresses were in many cases professionals no doubt, but frequently given to tell-tale mannerisms and exaggerated, stylised rendition; and finally, familiar sources of official largesse, such as the National Film Development Corporation of India, Doordarshan or the state film-financing bodies, were to make their appearance years later. It is in this context that we must consider Chemmeen, which won the President's Gold Medal for best film for the year 1965, or Bimal Roy's Udayer Pathay, or Ritwik Ghatak's first film, Nagarik. We ought not to forget that the efflorescence of talent that we were to witness in the course of time in Kerala, Bengal or Mumbai had much to do with the exertions of the pioneers who did their kind of work in difficult conditions, only to set an example for those who followed. If, in certain years, Malayalam films are still seen filling the lion's share of slots in the Indian Panorama, one of the reasons for it is surely that the pioneers had stretched themselves so boldly in what were once the backwaters of Indian cinema. In time, Kariat's melodramatic treatment of individual traumas and collective aberrations paved the way for the arrival of such individualists as Adoor, Aravindan, John Abraham, K. G. George, Shaji Karun, P.A. Backer, M.T. Vasudevan Nair, and a host of others of varying artistic sensibility or political persuasion. Despite working in difficult conditions with equipment that could hardly be described as being sophisticated, Chemmeen extracted the highest of praise for its technical excellence in important international festivals such as Cannes or Chicago. At Cannes, Marcus Bartley was awarded the gold medal for best cinematography. If anything, achievements of this stature go to prove that there is no substitute for innate genius. While volumes have been written on the holy trinity of Adoor, Aravindan and John, joined in time by Shaji following the enormous success of Piravi, we should not be indifferent to the existence of a Malayalam middle-of-the-road cinema of considerable volume and some undeniable importance. This body of work was propped up by directors such as George, Bharathan, Padmarajan, Sethumadhavan and others. Many of their films may seem to have been made with an eye to box-office possibilities, but they were nonetheless characterised by able storytelling and an impressive grasp of the technical aspect of things. Also Read | Aravindan at 90: A legacy outside the market At this point, a story George told this writer many years ago in Delhi following a screening of, arguably, his most important film, Kolangal, is worth mentioning here if for no other reason than that it has a bearing on his own un-uniform career graph, qualitatively speaking. Soon after graduating from the Film & Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune, his head buzzing with film theory, film aesthetics and classroom lectures on varied modes of storytelling, George went into independent filmmaking. But after the failure of his earliest ventures, chiefly because of the public's refusal to accept the terms and idioms of the new kind of cinema, George found it tough going. Thereupon, he decided once and for all to combine as little commerce as he could with as much art as possible and joined Ramu Kariat as an assistant. Vidyarthy Chatterjee writes on cinema, society, politics. For several decades now, he has pursued New Malayalam Cinema with great devotion.
Indian Express
2 hours ago
- Indian Express
Saved from army by Nehru, this actor went on to become Malayalam cinema's finest; locked horns with Mohanlal, Mammootty; lost National Award to Amitabh Bachchan
Thilakan, the firebrand human being, or Thilakan, the unparalleled actor: whom do Malayalees remember more? Ooo, that's a tough question, isn't it? As great an actor as he was, Thilakan was also an unflinching critic of power, who ruffled the feathers of the powerful in Malayalam cinema. Even though he had to walk a lonely road, he never budged and always proceeded with his head held high. That, along with the countless benchmark performances he delivered, is why he is remembered and cherished even now, 13 years after his demise. Born on July 15, 1935, in Ayiroor village near Thiruvalla, PK Surendranatha Thilakan joined Kollam SN College after finishing school. According to the institution's website, he actively participated in the Arts Club's activities and played key roles in several plays, including William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, in which he portrayed Mark Antony. Later, he joined the military. However, due to some ailments, he was soon confined to a bed in the hospital at his camp, and the authorities decided to amputate one of his legs, as was the practice of that era, veteran screenwriter John Paul recounted in a Safari TV show. One day, he said, the then-Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru visited the camp. Despite strict instructions from the top brass prohibiting anyone from interacting with Nehru, Thilakan spoke up as the PM was in the hospital. Explaining that the authorities had decided to amputate his legs without his or his family's permission, Thilakan requested Nehru to save him from the procedure. Upon returning to his office, the PM issued an order to have Thilakan transferred to a better hospital. Furthermore, he decreed that, henceforth, procedures like amputation should not be performed on soldiers without their or their close relatives' consent. With the legs Nehru saved, Thilakan returned to Kerala, bidding goodbye to the military. Soon, Thilakan began associating with various drama troupes and resumed pursuing acting. With a few friends, he established a troupe called the Mundakayam Nataka Samithy. Alongside this, he worked with KPAC, Kalidasa Kalakendram and Changanacherry Geetha. It was during this time that he met theatre legend PJ Antony — whom Thilakan always referred to as his beloved mentor — and began collaborating with him. It was Antony himself who paved the way for his foray into cinema. In Antony's first and only directorial venture, Periyar (1973), Thilakan played a key role. However, it was the legendary filmmaker KG George who gave him the proper push. Playing an important character in George's Ulkkadal (1979), Thilakan made his mark, and the filmmaker, spotting the actor's immense potential, offered him his first impactful role in Kolangal (1981), where Thilakan's performance as 'Kallu' Varkey won hearts. Despite coming from a theatre background, his portrayal was devoid of over-dramatics, and without exaggeration, he convincingly embodied the character of an alcoholic. From then on, George always saved the pièce de résistance characters — those whose perfect performance would elevate the films to soaring heights — for Thilakan. His portrayal of director-cum-drama troupe owner Vakkachan in Yavanika (1982) alone is enough to highlight the actor's massive potential. His controlled, commanding and nuanced performance in Yavanika, one of India's finest mystery thrillers, earned Thilakan his first Kerala State Film Award for Second Best Actor. He continued not only to make strides with his performances in George's Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback (1983) and Adaminte Variyellu (1983), but also to prove that Malayalam cinema might have found one of its greatest actors of all time. But could Thilakan, whose physique and voice appeared so rough and tough, handle comedy? If not, how could he be called a GOAT? George himself provided the answer in his political satire Panchavadi Palam (1984), where Thilakan's hilarious and unhinged portrayal of the caricaturish politician Isahak Tharakan proved that he was an all-rounder. No matter how big or small the part was, Thilakan knocked it out of the park every time, as exemplified by movies like Oru Kochukatha Aarum Parayatha Katha, Uyarangalil, Koodum Thedi, Anubandham, Yathra and Irakal, for which he bagged his second state award. In 1986, Thilakan proved the extent of his mettle by playing diverse roles like the paper-tiger gangster Damodarji in Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam, the hysterical Yamarajan in Pappan Priyappetta Pappan and the serpent in human skin, Paul Pailokkaran, in P Padmarajan's romantic classic Namukku Parkkan Munthirithoppukal. His portrayal of Paul, one of the vilest villains Malayalam cinema has ever produced, remains a benchmark performance. Rithubhedam (1987) earned him his first National Film Award for Best Supporting Actor. Even without relying on much physical transformation, Thilakan ensured each of his characters was distinct, as seen in films like Nadodikkattu, Amrutham Gamaya, Thaniyavarthanam and Unnikale Oru Katha Parayam. In 1988, Padmarajan gave him another iconic role in the tragic drama Moonnam Pakkam, which became one of the defining performances of his career, bringing tears to all audiences' eyes. The very next year, just when viewers thought they had seen his career-best performance, Thilakan outdid himself in Sibi Malayil's Kireedam (1989) as Achuthan Nair, a cop whose dreams of his son following in his footsteps are crushed when the youth becomes entangled in crime. More than three decades later, Thilakan's climactic scene with Mohanlal remains unmatched, a testament to their mastery. Be it short or long in a movie, Thilakan – Mohanlal combination has always been a feast to watch. 😍 — ക്രിഷ്ണ എ ഡി 🎏 (@ludachrishna) May 28, 2022 For every brilliant comic turn in Chakkikotha Chankaran and Kattukuthira, he matched it with intense performances in films like Perumthachan. Although he was in the running for the National Award for Best Actor for Perumthachan, Thilakan was bested by Amitabh Bachchan, who won for Agneepath. In a 2008 interview with Rediff, Thilakan alleged he lost the award because a top Congress politician wanted Big B honoured to secure his support in campaigning. But the winning or losing of trophies could never affect a legend's journey, and Thilakan's career is proof. He went on to become Malayalam cinema's quintessential supporting and character actor, delivering exceptional performances in films like Sandesam, Mookilla Rajyathu, Kilukkam, Godfather, Georgekutty C/O Georgekutty, Sadayam, Kauravar, Chenkol, Pavithram, Pingami and Minnaram. In 1995, he added another unforgettable role to his repertoire with CP Chacko, alias 'Kaduva' Chacko, in Spadikam, the ultimate example of a toxic parent. From Mayilpeelikkavu, Veendum Chila Veettukaryangal, Kannezhuthi Pottum Thottu and Narasimham to Randam Bhavam and Kilichundan Mampazham, Thilakan turned everything he touched to gold. Even as he worked unstoppably, Thilakan never severed his connection to the grassroots and always voiced his concerns about the industry's functioning. He time and again alleged that casteism was rampant and that his Ezhava identity had cost him opportunities in Malayalam cinema dominated by an unofficial 'Thiruvananthapuram Nair lobby'. He claimed the lobby resented his many awards. At the same time, he staunchly opposed the 'ban culture', which he ultimately faced. In 2010, Thilakan launched an all-out battle against film organisations for denying him the opportunity to act in Christian Brothers (2011) because he collaborated with MACTA head and director Vinayan, whom the rival FEFKA and some big actors opposed. Alleging that the film bodies were behaving like a 'mafia', he told IANS, 'The two major organisations in the industry and the superstars are against me because I acted in the latest film directed by Vinayan. Three other actors who acted with me in the film are also finding it tough. I'm 74 and into my sixth decade as an actor, so I have decided I will fight for justice. Do you know, as a result of the so-called informal ban on me by these people, right now I have no films at all.' He didn't mince words in criticising superstars like Mohanlal, Mammootty and Dileep either. 'The superstars are highly insecure. They don't even like others matching up to their level, let alone outperforming them. They will not — and they can't — take the slightest competition. I have outperformed them in many films, which obviously has not gone down well with them. If someone outperforms them, it is an open challenge to their stardom. People and the media praised my performance in their films. It might have been difficult for them to digest. They tried to push me around on screen. Once that failed, they tried it off the screen as well,' he told Rediff. Yet Thilakan's talent was far beyond any association's ability to suppress, and every time he appeared on screen, audiences gave him the love he deserved. From Red Chillies' Comrade Maani Varghese, Evidam Swargamanu's Jermias and Nayakan's Vincent Karanavar, to Indian Rupee's Achutha Menon and Spirit's Mesthiri, he soared. In his final years, he proved there was no one like Thilakan with his heartwarming portrayal of Kareem Ikka in Anwar Rasheed's Ustad Hotel (2012). Besides Malayalam, he also worked in a few Tamil, Telugu and Kannada movies. He won the Padma Shri in 2009. Thilakan passed away at 77. Even though years have passed since his demise, the legacy he left — as an actor and as a person who refused to bow to casteist lobbies, egoistic associations and superstars — remains an inspiration for generations. Thilakan showed with his life that he knew not only his worth, but also exactly when and where to stand firm.
Scroll.in
2 hours ago
- Scroll.in
Interview: ‘Feminist Fathima' is a ‘challenge to people who don't want to change with the times'
Fathima knows her place in her orthodox household. When in the presence of her husband Ashraf, a madrasa teacher and traditional healer, she keeps her voice low and behaves in a docile manner. When Fathima is with neighbours and friends, she is her natural, ebullient self. Fasil Muhammed's Malayalam-language Feminichi Fathima (Feminist Fathima) is filled with insightful details about the power dynamic within conservative families. Muhammed's powerful debut feature is a modestly budgeted and richly layered chronicle of repression and rebellion. Feminichi Fathima is set in Ponnani town in Kerala's Malappuram district. Fathima (Shamla Hamza) lives with Ashraf (Kumar Sunil), three children and her mother-in-law. An already overwhelmed Fathima reaches breaking point over her young son's bed-wetting habit. Fathima's disgust at having to deal with a soiled mattress and Ashraf's callous response to her situation set off a chain of responses that neither Fathima nor Ashraf can control. 'Whenever Fathima communicates with her husband, his patriarchal privileges affect her tone,' Muhammed pointed out. 'No such problem disturbs her tone when she deals with her friends and neighbours.' Muhammed's screenplay examines with humour and perspicacity Fathima's gradual journey from submissiveness to revolt. Reluctant to pop out the fourth child that Ashraf wants, the oppressed housewife confronts the inescapable truth that she too is utilitarian and disposable, just like the hated mattress. Fathima finds supporters in her feisty neighbour and a Tamil woman who buys scrap. 'Fathima is a traditional lady but at a particular point in her life, she is forced to stand up for her basic needs,' Muhammed pointed out. 'This makes her rebellious and strong. When she decides not on depend on Ashraf, her tone towards him changes. This indeed is the biggest outcome of the movie.' The film is expected to be released in theatres over the next few weeks. In addition to following its heroine's experiences, Feminichi Fathima pays attention to the role played by technology in a traditional milieu. Ashraf warns his children to watch only content that is 'halal' – acceptable to Islam. The 97-minute film gently skewers Ashraf's self-serving hypocrisy, while also revealing the emotional impact of his insensitivity on his spouse. In some ways, Feminichi Fathima pays homage to fellow Malayalam director Jeo Baby's trailblazing The Great Indian Kitchen (2021), which exposes the drudgery involved in housework. Ashraf, who is barely able to make ends meet and worries that he will lose his standing in his community if his wife starts to disobey him, is a familiar figure in Indian homes, Muhammed pointed out. Rather than portraying Ashraf as a villain, the film tries to understand his position, while not making concessions for his behaviour. 'Ashraf is following the rituals of patriarchy – he too is a victim of the patriarchal system,' Muhammed observed. 'Many men around me contributed to the character's development. He is just following his religion, and his main problem is his inability to change according to the new world.' While Feminichi Fathima takes place in a Muslim community, and looks at the role played by both religious practices and obscurantist beliefs, the story is 'universal', Muhammed said. 'I don't want to limit this movie to a particular community or region,' Muhammed added. 'Basically, this is a movie against patriarchy.' Art has 'no boundaries or limitations based on caste, creed or religion', the filmmaker said. 'We must avoid labelling movies on the basis of religion. Feminichi Fathima challenges those people who do not want to change with the times.' The messaging is strong but not strident – Muhammed maintains an even tone through observational comedy and relatable characters who are mostly played by non-professionals, except for Shamla Hamza and Kumar Sunil. The question of financial autonomy emerges through the characters of the scrap dealer as well as a young Muslim woman who has found a way to be respectful of her faith while earning money from her social media account. 'I strongly recommend that every woman be economically independent – this recognition changes Fathima's tone with her husband,' Muhammed asserted. 'This decision-making power is the ultimate requirement for a common woman rather than jumping into quarrels or big fights.' The 28-year-old director, who calls himself a 'film dreamer', started his career as an editor before making short films and YouTube series. 'My cinematic sensibility has always been attuned to stories that resonate with authenticity,' Muhammed said. 'Movies that evoke emotions, spark reflection and linger long after the credits roll – these are the ones that truly capture my attention.' Like PS Vinothraj's debut Koozhangal (2021), Muhammed was inspired by an incident that happened to his sister. He recalls his sister scolding her son for wetting his bed and pointing out how much trouble the smell of urine caused her. Muhammed was deeply moved by his sibling's plight. 'When I saw her carrying the bed outside with so much pain on her face, I got the idea for the movie,' he said. 'Keeping this as the central theme, I crafted the script by adding many more incidents that I witnessed around me, which I really wish would change.' Just cast neighbours and acquaintances were cast for the supporting roles, friends stepped in to help Muhammed complete the film. Apart from writing and directing Feminichi Fathima, Muhammed has edited and produced the movie. 'I took on the financial challenge from the very beginning by being part of the production,' Muhammed said. 'Later, two of my friends, Thamar KV and Sudheesh Scaria, joined the production.' Feminichi Fathima was premiered at the International Film Festival of Kerala in December 2024, where it won five awards. Muhammed hopes that a theatrical distribution deal will fall into place soon. 'My movie has got exposure only to film festival audiences,' he said. 'The film was a revelation for my family. I also got positive feedback from many Muslim men at other festivals. I am expecting positive discussions from the movie's content. And I want such discussions to happen, since these topics are important and needs society's attention.'
