Let me conclude by saying Paradise is a once-in-a-blue-moon film powered by dense writing rich in details, some of which become more evident upon deeper introspection. It's akin to reading a good work of literature, with all its layers and subtexts cohesively weaved together. The snowballing effect of the ongoing economic crisis, in particular, is impressive. So is the exploration of the class-caste-religion divide contributing to the central conflict. It's a film with not a single pretentious bone in its body. I have a feeling it's a film I'll revisit again and again. Suffice it to say, I can't wait to see the earlier films of Prasanna.
But there are places in this film where Akhil adds a few neat flourishes, like showing how the environment interacts with Archana when negative news hits her. You see how every sound affects her. You see her imagining alternate scenarios -- another trademark of Akhil -- that effectively diffuses the overwhelming anxiety caused by that last phone call. One recurring visual trick involves the electricity going off during crucial moments. She also perceives some 'signs' from her neighbourhood to be good or bad when she is preparing for one of the most important events of her life. But these 'extraordinary' influences look awkward in other places. It seems as though the film is in two minds about what it wants to be, or it's probably trying to be two things simultaneously. The overall energy left me feeling confused.
Dear Friend is one of those films that should inspire young aspiring filmmakers who think out of the box because this is a work that screams simplicity. It tells you that you don't need big, earth-shattering ideas to make a film. You can do that even with the simplest thoughts and then get supremely gifted actors to enrich it with their performances. Yes, one can argue that Malayalam cinema has been doing that for a while, but very rarely have I come across something where this philosophy seems as pronounced. The essential idea is to capture a certain feeling, and Dear Friend succeeds. This is a difficult film to review. How does one describe it without stepping on spoiler mines? I'll try.
The best way to convey a character's personality is through behaviour, and Fahadh being the subtle and consummate performer that he is, rises to the challenge. His performance is replete with nuances that take a while for us to register. Take the scene at a restaurant where he pushes a bowl of curry off the table and asks for a new one just because he disapproves of the stranger who touched it before him. Some of Anikuttan's distaste is expressed verbally, like the scene where he mentions how a reservation job doesn't have as much value as the one gained by merit. There is an instance at a bar where things get suitably loud and intense, but even that moment doesn't stretch beyond what is necessary. This must be a quality of Mahesh's writing because we know him to be a staunch practitioner of economic storytelling -- conveying a lot through very little.
Aashiq Abu's Rani, penned by Unni R, is the third film in Aanum Pennum. The less I say about it, the better. It's a wicked little film with a wicked sense of humour. A depiction of a flawed relationship, Rani can be seen as the third part of a trilogy that includes Aashiq Abu's other flawed relationship dramas, namely, 22FK and Mayanadhi. Aashiq excels at this sort of thing. I found it to be the most refreshing of all three films. It is the only film out of the three with a contemporary setting. We get to see Roshan Mathew and Darshana Rajendran in a way we never saw before. Though Savithri and Rachiyamma don't break new grounds in storytelling, they are solid as standalone stories. They work well with each other. But if I have to pick the standout story, it's undoubtedly Rani.
