Angammal Movie Review:

Freedom. It is quite an interesting beast because everyone wants it, but somehow they are tuned to keep it caged and away from others who might not have it. This dichotomy is very telling of the human mind and its vagaries. There is always someone who has more freedom than you, and someone who doesn’t have as much. It is supposed to be an absolute unit, but there are enough caveats in freedom to allow oppression of some kind to be perpetuated through avenues like patriarchy, misogyny, and simple conditioning. Director Vipin Radhakrishnan’s Angammal is one such film that shows how exercising freedom always comes at a cost in a society that values conformity. 

Director: Vipin Radhakrishnan

Cast: Geetha Kailasam, Saran Sakthi, Bharani, Thendral Raghunathan, Mullaiyarasi

Angammal (Geetha Kailasam) is a maverick matriarch who lives life on her own terms. She rides around her dusty old village on her rickety moped, delivering milk to all the villagers. She has a set of friends who sit around and make fun of people walking by. She dotes on her granddaughter, but wags her acerbic tongue at her daughter-in-law. She doesn’t show outward emotions to her wayward elder son, Sudalai (Bharani), and pours all of it on her second son, Pavalam (Saran Sakthi), who is a doctor. Basically, she has stopped mothering her firstborn, but never allowed the second son to wean off. This is wonderfully reflected in the way she asks Sudalai if Pavalam is angry with her, even though it’s been ages since she even had a decent conversation with the former. The irony isn’t missed by Sudalai, who is a silent spectator to all that unfolds in front of him. But one fine day, when Angammal is forced to live life on someone else’s terms, all hell breaks loose. 

Now, these terms aren’t something that might seem too exacting on Angammal. Pavalam wants his future in-laws to see his mother as a woman keeping up with modernity, and not someone who shies away from wearing a blouse. Angammal, who has never worn a blouse under her saree, doesn’t want to do it simply because… she doesn’t want to do it. But will society, and her own family, allow her that freedom of choice? It might seem a simple ask, but director Vipin, who has adapted Perumal Murugan’s short story, Kodithuni, asks bigger questions about society’s inherent need to have people conform to the majority. Remember Kamal Haasan’s rant around the release of Virumaandi, where the biggest truth about the cultural fabric of a society is its dynamism? Similarly, with every woman, including her own friends, adorning a blouse, the pressure gets to Angammal.

Things go down a spiral when the concept of beauty takes a new form in her life. It makes her wonder if she isn’t beautiful. It makes her think whether she would be accepted only if a lifestyle change were incorporated. Angammal, a queen in her own right, goes down a path of self-doubt. These scenes are wonderfully written and directed by Vipin, who fills them with enough levity that keep us engaged in a story of a 60-70-year-old woman, who doesn’t want to wear a simple blouse. 

While the story is about the piece of clothing, Angammal is mainly about how the older generation is either left behind in the name of evolution or asked to undergo a drastic change to keep up. The film acts as a reminder of how such expectations are definitely an act of violence against the geriatric, who have done enough to deserve a life of rest. But it isn’t like they are whitewashed in Angammal. It is also shown how they force the next generation to dance to their whims and fancies, and the unresolved resentment in such families. 

Angammal isn’t a perfect woman, but it is these imperfections that make her human. It is the way she treats her daughter-in-law, Sharada, that lays bare the bitterness in her heart. Of course, she is the product of her times, but the makers show us who she truly is, and in a way, it allows us to feel bad about her as much as we feel bad for her. 

The feeling of relatability with almost every character in Angammal comes through mainly because of the strong performances from everyone in the cast. Despite being a largely one-note character, Saran plays Pavalam with a sense of urgency that wonderfully brings out the brashness of the character. Being the son who was doted upon, Pavalam is very angry when things don’t go his way, but he still cannot be too angry because… he is a good son. Saran gets this thin line right, and so does Bharani, who reminded me of the Nadhaswaram-playing character (Prasad Babu) from Unnal Mudiyum Thambi. It is a beautiful character that gets a solid monologue towards the end, and Bharani delivers a wonderfully restrained performance that screams to the industry that he is a force to be reckoned with. 

Thendral Raghunathan as Sharada is a terrific addition to Angammal as she oscillates between frustration, anger, happiness, benevolence, and outright scheming with such ease that it is unnerving. There is a quiet confidence in Mullaiyarasi’s performance as Pavalam’s girlfriend, Jasmine. She doesn’t take his disrespect without a fight, and stands her ground quietly but fiercely. 

And then, there is Geetha Kailasam playing the titular role. There is a lot of playfulness underneath the toxicity. And there is a lot of toxicity underneath her sarcasm. There is a lot of hurt underneath the bravado, and a lot of bravado underneath the defiance. In a different era, this role would have been tailor-made for actor Manorama, one of the greatest to have ever graced our screens, and Geetha Kailasam definitely reminded yours truly of her, and went on to still make Angammal her own. 

The film begins with a static shot of a barren field as we hear Angammal, who is outside the frame, narrating a literal grandmother’s tale to her granddaughter. We know that the story has a lot of weight because it talks about nature, and its connection with the people of her land. This opening might make one believe that they are watching a film that is more of the arthouse kind, bereft of commercial cinema sensibilities. But make no mistake, Angammal is quite the masala film, and I mean no disrespect to the form. Even if Anjoy Samuel’s cinematography has the aesthetics of a ‘festival film,’ it never once alienates us. There is a largely lived-in feel that Angammal’s surroundings give us, and Anjoy showcases this in all its dreary splendour. Similarly, even if composer Mohammed Maqbool Mansoor understands and platforms the power of silence in such films, he also gets the pulse of this masala indie and doesn’t restrain himself in any way. 

The film has strong emotional drama centred around two sons and their contrasting relationship with their mother. It has a lovely exploration of female friendship and how solidarity comes from not just being with each other but saying the truth, even if it is tough to hear. It has a wonderful December-December romance that doesn’t shy away from showcasing maturity without diluting the tenderness and vivacity often relegated to youthful romance. It has a silent rebellion by a son, who was never allowed to find what he’s good at. Angammal has more than its fair share of heroic moments where the titular character is exalted to a mass masala figure who is capable of a lot more than what she is already given credit for. 

In a nutshell, that’s exactly what Angammal is all about. Just like the character, the film is everything we all think the film will be, and yet, it manages to surprise us by being a little more different, little more exciting, little more surprising, little more sentimental, and most importantly, gives us the freedom to engage, observe, debate, and yet, feel completely entertained by the blouse-hating, saree-wearing, suruttu-smoking, swear word-spouting, grand old lady, who just wants one thing in life… Freedom.