Dear reader,
“You’ll never again raise a hand against another man! I know what needs to be done to make sure you don’t. But you happen to be a woman. A mere woman. Now, get lost!”
When Thevalliparambil Joseph Alex IAS, played by Malayalam cinema’s “megastar” Mammootty in the 1995 film The King, delivered these lines to his subordinate, Assistant Collector Anura Mukharji IAS (played by Vani Viswanath), the theatre erupted in thunderous applause and whistles. As a school student watching with friends and family, I saw this reaction firsthand. The King went on to become one of the biggest hits of that year and a career-defining film for Mammootty, writer Renji Panicker, and director Shaji Kailas.
Four years later, in 1999, Jayaram, popular among “family audiences,” starred in Njangal Santhushtaranu (We’re Happy!). The film had a song where the hero, a cop, laments his wife’s lack of “propriety”. The lyrics were telling:
“Not man’s, not woman’s, what a crazy attire this is? /
Call yourself a woman? Don’t you have an iota of shame? /
You may have studied in Ooty, but can you forget your village roots?”
The song concludes with a piece of so-called folk wisdom: “A place ruled by women and a place planted with lemon trees are bound to be ruined!”
Just a year later, in 2000, the same theatre screened another Shaji Kailas film, Narasimham, written by ace screenwriter-turned-director Ranjith. In the film’s climax, after a loud, tumultuous, and violent finale, the super-macho-alpha-male-feudal-but-compassionate hero, Poovalli Induchoodan (played by superstar Mohanlal), proposes to his girlfriend Anuradha: “When I come home at midnight, stumbling after a few drinks, I want a woman to kick around. I want a woman who’ll make love to me under a blanket on rainy nights, who’ll bring my children into this world and raise them. And one day, when I’m gone and my body burns on a pyre, I want a woman who will mourn me, beating her chest and shedding tears for what we had. If you’re game, hop on!”
Anuradha (played by Aishwarya Bhaskaran) jubilantly jumps into his car. Predictably, the crowd clapped, and Narasimham became one of the biggest hits in Mohanlal’s career, launching his home production banner, Aashirvad Cinemas, promoted by his friend and personal assistant-turned-producer Antony Perumbavoor.
In fact, Narasimham set off a long trend of such films, where women were shamed and tamed, and most became blockbusters. The era of superstar Dileep, who rose to prominence in the 2000s, added another dimension to this genre. Unsurprisingly, in the 2000s and 2010s, Malayalam cinema failed to produce meaningful works, not only in the commercial space but in the arthouse segment as well. Most films, including blockbusters, revolved around the stars, their stardom, and cringeworthy themes where patriarchal values and misogyny called the shots.
Even though some critics, writers, reviewers, and activists raised concerns about the content, little was done to correct it, nor were there significant attempts to address these imbalances. Women in cinema were relegated to supporting characters, their job obviously being to support the hero’s antics. As we now know, these onscreen philosophies were reflected offscreen as well. Female actors commanded little clout in story selection, production, or even in how their own characters were portrayed and projected on screen.
Of course, this was not exclusive to Malayalam cinema; other industries showed similar or worse trends. However, for an industry that had produced brilliant works exploring varied shades of gender, caste, class, and politics, especially in the 1980s, Malayalam cinema’s fall from grace was particularly noteworthy.
But things started changing, mostly due to an offscreen event. In 2017, an actress in Kochi was sexually assaulted in a vehicle in broad daylight, triggering widespread protests. The incident, allegedly masterminded by superstar Dileep, shook Kerala society to its core, sparking intense discussions in media and social media that dissected the prevalent misogyny in the Malayalam film world.
The incident had a butterfly effect on the entire cinema industry and coincided with the rise of a group of filmmakers, both men and women, who sought to experiment with the form and content of cinema, determined to change the narrative and bring fresh perspectives to Malayalam films. In the following years, there have been notable shifts in Kerala’s film landscape, with more women-centric films being produced and women increasingly becoming directors, writers, and producers. Films like The Great Indian Kitchen (2021) and Uyare (2019) have gained critical acclaim and commercial success while addressing issues of gender inequality and women’s empowerment.
The 2017 incident in Kerala occurred against the backdrop of the global #MeToo movement, which had gained momentum following the allegations against Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein. The movement, which began in the US, quickly spread worldwide, empowering women to speak out against sexual harassment and assault across industries, including entertainment. In Kerala, other aspects came under scrutiny too: wage disparity, lack of respect for women actors, inadequate facilities, patriarchal values in cinema, and the lack of a feminist perspective in movies.
In hindsight, the parallels between Hollywood and Kerala cinema are striking. Both industries had long histories of power imbalance, with men dominating the key creative and decision-making roles. The #MeToo movement became the springboard for women to share their stories and demand change, not just in terms of personal accountability, but also in addressing the systemic issues that allowed such behaviour to persist.
In Kerala, the aftermath of this was the formation of the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC), which has become a pioneering (and powerful) organisation. It aims to support women in cinema and advocate for safer, more equitable working conditions. It mirrors similar initiatives in other countries, such as Time’s Up in Hollywood.
In response to the growing demands for reform, the Kerala government appointed Justice K. Hema to lead a committee to investigate the working conditions of women in cinema. The committee, which included actor Sharada and former bureaucrat K.B. Valsala Kumari, conducted extensive interviews and research over two years.
The Hema Committee Report, submitted in 2019, was a groundbreaking document that laid bare the harsh realities faced by women in the Malayalam film industry. Some of the key findings included the widespread prevalence of sexual harassment and exploitation, the absence of formal contracts and job security, and the need for grievance redressal mechanisms. The report, suppressed for long months, was finally released with redactions a few weeks ago.
Its release has marked a significant moment not just for the Malayalam film industry but for those in other States as well, especially in south India.
Its recommendations are facing resistance, with some sections of Kerala filmdom arguing that it has ruined the industry’s reputation, that increased regulations will stifle creativity, or that film production will get more challenging. Others have embraced the call for reform, recognising that a more inclusive and equitable industry will ultimately lead to better working conditions and more diverse and compelling storytelling.
Today, it’s highly unlikely that films like The King or Narasimham will be received the way they were earlier, a fact confirmed by none other than Renji Panicker who wrote The King. He admitted recently that he would never write such dialogues again. Ranjith, who wrote Narasimham, has been accused of sexual harassment by Bengali actor Sreelekha Mitra after the release of the Hema Committee report.
It’s in this context that Frontline examines the impact of the Hema Committee report and its aftermath on south Indian cinema. Besides respected academics and researchers such as Aparna Eswaran, Silpa Satheesh, Arathi P.M., and J. Devika, there are pieces by writers Subha J. Rao and Ayesha Minhaz, and by lawyer Thulasi K. Raj. The package also features interviews with actors Sreelekha Mitra and WCC members Bina Paul and Revathi.
We invite you to explore the stories and share your thoughts. How do you think film industries can be reformed? What role can audiences play? Will you pay for a movie that perpetuates misogyny?
Waiting for your blockbuster responses,
For Frontline,
Jinoy Jose P.
We hope you’ve been enjoying our newsletters featuring a selection of articles that we believe will be of interest to a cross-section of our readers. Tell us if you like what you read. And also, what you don’t like! Mail us at frontline@thehindu.co.in
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