Bison Kaalamaadan Movie Review: A defiant tale of rebellion elevates this familiar sports drama

Bison Kaalamaadan Movie Review:

Breathe. When every inch of one’s surroundings exists to overwhelm and not nurture a person, they are forced to survive in the rarefied air. Society, at every possible step, adds to the suffocation, and when one, somehow, finds their way through all of this, what is waiting for them at the end of the proverbial tunnel isn’t just light… but the time to just breathe without thinking when the next bout of fresh air will come their way. Mari Selvaraj’s latest film, Bison, is about one such person. But it is also the story of many such people. That’s what makes this Mari film special, and unfortunately, also slightly cumbersome. 

Director: Mari Selvaraj

Cast: Dhruv Vikram, Pasupathy, Rajisha Vijayan, Ameer, Lal, Anupama Parameswaran

Bison is a relatively straightforward film, and Mari has chosen to tell this story without sugarcoating the bitter pills that he presents one after another. The film is based on the life of Indian Kabaddi player Manathi Ganesan, and, as Mari adds in the opening disclaimer, it is also the story of many such people who found their way out of this world — a world filled with oppression, suppression, and bloodthirsty revenge without rhyme or reason. Mari wonderfully sets up the two ends of this violent spectrum by establishing the characters of Pandiyaraja (Ameer) and Kandhasami (Lal). Caught in the middle of this war are hundreds of people like Kittan (Dhruv Vikram), his father (Pasupathy), and his sister Raji (Rajisha Vijayan). And Bison is the story of many such people, and what it actually takes for even one of them to come out of this world to find some sort of stability and respect in their lives.

If you’ve watched any sports drama worth its salt, right from Dangal to Sarpatta Parambarai, Bison has very similar beats, and is quite predictable. You know the relentless insults will turn into adulatory cheers. You know that every obstacle will turn into a stepping stone for future generations. But Mari isn’t too interested in putting his own spin on these portions of the story. It plays out predictably, and yet, when the climactic portions appear, there is a sense of celebratory high, because Mari is very interested in putting his own spin on the portions that shine light on the struggles and the fight back… and there is a lot of it.

Bison is about the dogged persistence of men and women in the villages of Tirunelveli. Raji, who is bound to her home due to the love she once fostered in her heart, wants her brother to break all shackles and play the sport he loves. Their father, an ardent Kabaddi enthusiast, has seen how sports isn’t really the great leveller that the world says it is, and yet, wants his son to get out of this suffocation. Two warring factions have grown so many offshoots that the people involved in the violence have no clue why they are killing each other, and the people at the top can’t really stop it, even if they wanted to. Everyone is slap-happy and brandishes a knife like it were just another day. Fisticuffs turn to knife fights, and after a point, even gun violence. The weapons get upgraded, the fighters change, the goalposts are redefined, but the battle ensues without anyone knowing the root cause of the conflict. It is all about honour, or the lack of it, among people with unchecked caste pride. And in between all of this is Kittan, who just wants to play Kabaddi. 

Mari points out, not so subtly, that it isn’t easy for someone like Kittan to thrive in these surroundings. Every turn has a new challenge, and not everyone is up for it. When asked how he got good at Kabaddi, Kittan simply says that everyone in his village plays the sport, and it is impossible not to be influenced by them. It also shows that Kittan is the hope for many such faceless influencers who could never achieve their sporting ambitions. It is not because they weren’t good enough, but they just didn’t know they could dream that big. This shattering reality isn’t blown up to be something revelatory simply because Mari doesn’t think someone’s life has to be a spectacle for others. That is Mari’s restraint.

While rightfully pointing out the futilities of caste-based violence in our societies, Bison also shows how, in our country, it takes a village to not just raise a child, but also give the kid wings to achieve big. Kittan is shown to have reached the highest stages of his sporting career because of people who looked out for his best interests at every possible juncture. Of course, there is his dad and sister. But some people, from the ‘enemy’ camp, also shape his journey.

There is the well-meaning PT teacher (a wonderful Aruvi Madhan), who fights with his ‘own’ and even Pasupathy, to give Kittan the best possible platform. There is a Tamil captain of the national team, a good-natured selector, and his daughter, who manages to be Kittan’s step ladder to great things. There is Kandhasami, who sees talent over caste, to give him a bigger platform. There is Pandiyaraja, who shuts down voices that call Kittan out for his seeming treachery, and points out that true talent has to be nurtured. Even the big bad system is shown to have traces of warmth. While there is a case to be made about the whitewashing of people who see ‘honour’ in a lot of things, it seems like an extension of Mari’s version of utopia. He points out the problems, but does believe that change is a natural course of action.

But it doesn’t mean the film is painted with broad strokes. It never shies away from calling out the futilities of caste-based violence, and how, under the right guidance, sports can be a level-playing field where talent is accorded the highest honour. It points out how the differences that can be forgotten on the field don’t really have to creep back once they are out of it. But, in the process, Mari also doesn’t forget to point out that all of this is easier said than done.

Bison shows how Kittan doesn’t even get the opportunity to think about his passion, his future, his love, his friendships, and his family. He is just reacting to whatever is thrown his way, and the only place where he feels in control is the Kabaddi ground. It is poignant how Kittan has to run his emotions out. However, Dhruv’s rather restrained performance takes some time getting used to because, for a long time, we don’t see him doing much except excelling in the Kabaddi matches, and hitting people who insult his father. There is a sense of repetition here that is frustrating to watch.

While it makes one wonder about the frustration of people having to live this reality day in and day out, there is something amiss in the cinematic translation of this cyclical struggle. It also doesn’t help that his romance portions with Rani (Anupama) squander its promise, and acts as a major distraction and very little else. So, we take time to finally warm up to Dhruv, and Kittan’s rage-filled outburst towards the end is where the actor comes to the party. Till then, it is the ensemble that does all the heavy lifting.

Composer Nivas K Prasanna and cinematographer Ezhil Arasu transport us into the Tamil Nadu heartland. The wide angles and god’s eye view shots to show the kind of solitude that pervades Kittan’s life, his dogged persistence, and the what-could-have-been scenes are elevated by a rooted soundtrack that has just the right energy. 

Over the years, we have seen rebellion take different sizes and shapes, and in Bison, it is restrained defiance. This film is Mari Selvaraj’s most violent to date, and it is beautiful how the gore and bloodshed aren’t at the hands of the protagonist, but everywhere around him. It is a terrific exploration of the aftermath of violence and its unsettling consequences in the minds of the young and easily influenced.

And that’s why the story of Manathi Ganesan has to be told. It isn’t just about how one man decided to forge his own path to the top despite the overwhelming oppression and relentless violence. It is about how this path is paved for many more to follow. They don’t have to be one-off success stories. They can be the template. While the idea of flowers finding a way to bloom in bloody battlefields is poetic, Bison is defiant in saying that it shouldn’t be the case. And more importantly, even if you aren’t talented enough or destined to do great things that make you a beacon of hope or the harbinger of justice… You must still be allowed to live a life that doesn’t put a price on the simplest of things… Breathing.