One of my favourite images of K G George is from 8 1/2 Intercuts -- an essential documentary on his life, available on YouTube -- in which he is hunched over a laptop, watching a classic of his favourite filmmaker Federico Fellini, 8 1/2, with the smile of a kid who just found his favourite toy. An image that resonates with any hardcore Malayali cinephile for whom K G George was a darling -- a maverick filmmaker who went against the grain and made, over twenty years, films that stimulated the intellect and struck an emotional chord. 

In my mind, K G George occupies the same pantheon as Stanley Kubrick or Martin Scorsese in that he, just like them, had a distinct storytelling style and a hunger to break what was considered the norm at the time. This approach made itself strongly apparent in George's pathbreaking directorial debut Swapnanadanam (1976), which heralded his penchant for exploring the complexities of male-female dynamics, a notable trait common to all his films. 

The most impressive quality about his movies is that the female characters were as memorable and well-written as any of his male characters. George had a deep, profound respect for them; he observed them without judgment. He accepted their shortcomings as much as he did his own. The K G George characters were flawed, made wrong choices, and rarely found redemption. Some of his stories ended tragically. Some characters found redemption in death. Interestingly, he gave the deceased as much importance as the living. Take the victim from Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback, Ee Kanni Koodi. or Yavanika. 

In all these films, a deeply impactful exploration of their lives overshadows their eventual fate. George had a special place in his heart for the weak and powerless. One of his most memorable characters is the dwarf from Mela (1980), a character who enjoyed "stardom" in his hometown but was mistreated at the circus in which he worked. Or how about the husband in Mattoral, devastated at the thought of his wife living with another man? Or the disillusioned, humiliated, and constantly abused woman in Yavanika? Or the psychotic son born into a privileged household in Irakal?

Unlike some filmmakers today spouting pseudo-progressive ideas, George was the real deal. This sentiment is echoed by filmmaker Arun Chandu, who says, "Long before the era of wokeness and political correctness, K G George sir crafted exceptional daring films and female-centric tales with unwavering honesty." 

In an earlier interview with The New Indian Express, filmmaker Lijin Jose, who made 8 1/2 Intercuts, called George a "transparent person who had no self-doubts, whether it was regarding his films, religious or political beliefs.” Calling George an auteur with no equal, Lijin remarked, "He made stunning social commentary, as well as psychological portraits, and done without any exaggeration. He was active from 1975 to the early 1990s and helped us to understand what Kerala society was like in those times.” One is inclined to agree.

George's die-hard fans would also agree that his ideas were far ahead of his time. I recently watched two of his lesser-discussed (?) works, Yathrayude Anthyam and Kathakku Pinnil. The former, a made-for-television feature, revolved around the idea of penpals. Imagine a film made in 1989 discussing a concept that would get more popularised with the advent of social media that would further shrink the distance between people post-2000s. At one point in the film, a character looks at technology cynically, fearing its potential for distorting and fabricating truths. Kathakku Pinnil, on the other hand, has Mammootty as a playwright who, in one scene, imagines himself as an audience member booing at a situation he wrote. Did George draw from his own experience? Does it suggest that every filmmaker needs to engage in (harsh) self-evaluation more often? Perhaps.