Life is absurd. So is death sometimes. And sometimes, when you are dealing with death in life, absurdism can take an even more….absurd turn. By showcasing how death is a better fate when compared to dealing with the predisposition of people to selfishness and petty ways, director Lijo Jose Pellisetty has created one of the best satires that I have come across in contemporary Indian cinema. The theme of absurdism in the context of a funeral is not exactly an oft-repeated theme in Indian movies - although whenever we have come across such movies, they just knock it out of the park. Thithi, the Kannada movie made in the recent past, is one such gem.
Ee.Ma.Yau or Eesu.Mariyam.Yauseppe (Jesus, Mary, Joseph or interchangeably R.I.P) starts on a quirky note, if the movie title is anything to go by. Set in Chellanam, up on the coast near Ernakulam, it's a movie about how a small family (in the conventional sense) and a larger family (in the unconventional sense) deal with the sudden death and ensuing funeral of Vavachan Mestri. In a coastal community, death is never only your own. And this is evidenced how the entire community starts handling the funeral arrangements like its clockwork, when it's actually anything but. In fact, it is just utter chaos. And herein does the filmmaker shines in demonstrating how ghastly life can be, when dealing with death.
Vavachan Mestri comes home to his village and is greeted by pettiness immediately - a fisherman accuses Vavachan's daughter of having pre-marital relationship and being pregnant. Angered by being greeted with such gossip, Vavachan strikes the guy who informs him, before scurrying along home. The touch of absurdity is everywhere in this movie - you see how Vavachan callously picks up his bag carrying a live duck that he is carrying home. He gets home to find a flickering tubelight by the door that he starts adjusting being being greeted by a bickering wife. His daughter and daughter-in-law get on with cooking the duck for dinner, but he cant shake off what he heard and hence sits remorsefully outside. His son, Eeshy comes home and is told by his family about his father sitting and sulking outside and he decides the best way to console his dad is just by offering him drinks. Soon, they drink together and Vavachan starts talking about his contribution to the local church, how lavish the funeral to his father was and starts talking about his own funeral. Guilt-striken, his broke son promises him an equally lavish funeral and the absurdism oozing out of these scenes are about how happy the thought of a grand death makes Vavachan feel.
And it comes as no surprise that Vavachan falls dead soon in the living room, after chiding his son about the absurdity of how he hides smokes but openly drinks with his father. The womenfolk find him lying lifeless on the ground and the banshee shrieks begin almost immediately. Eeshy rushes in and is completely gobsmacked- but almost on cue, his neighbour and friend, Ayyapan (also the "committee" worker) arrives and starts trying to put the unforeseen chaos into order. What follows is how chaos becomes the hero - be it in reactions of people or the situations themselves. And the characters that you are introduced to, all bring their own ingredients to throw into the chaotic pyre. Be it the boyfriend character trying to get stolen moments with Vavachan's daughter, the "customized" howls from his wife strewn with topical jibes about her husband depending on the audience, the son scampering around to find money to try to make good of his promise of a grand goodbye to his father or the no-nonsense nurse who needs to pronounce the man dead or the Vicar who is convinced that there is foulplay in the death - the characters infuse soul into this lively satire. I loved the absurdist scenes which make you chuckle discreetly or guffaw guiltily - how the doctor can't come to confirm the death because he is lying drunk, how the nurse won't ride pillion on a bike in the middle of the night because it's unsafe but will ride the bike herself, how the "negotiation" for the coffin with "imported wood and velvet finish" at the funeral home takes place, how there is that annoying broken clarinet playing in the funeral band, how the dog scratches itself lazily as the clergymen walk past and ask an existential question that begets a theological answer, how the gossip mongers drink alcohol in the vicinity of the bereaved house and spin yarns, how the grave digger ironically digs his own grave, literally. P.F.Mathews just kills it with the spot-on screenplay.
Then the thundering cloudburst ushers in the crescendo of the movie with the second wife and her family arriving and throwing a spade into the funeral set-up. As rains get more torrential, so does the chaos. Eeshy breaks down completely and acts like a raving lunatic, when all he is feeling is immense grief and tremendous remorse for not being able to turn his promise of "first class coffin, first class band set,18 men with ceremonial staff holding the silver cross, the blessings of the Bishop" into a reality. Chemban Vinod Jose delivers a stellar performance as the well-intentioned son, who is equal parts confused and equal parts convinced about how his father's remains need to be treated. The rest of the cast, however little screen time they get, make an indelible mark.
I must confess - as much as I watched this movie because the director made another recent favourite of mine - Angamaly Diaries, I also watched this movie for Shyju Khalid, the cinematographer. As if to perfectly complement the sombre subject of the movie, the lenses weave magic with a deeply blue filter outside the house and a dimly-lit setting contrasting the jarring colours of the wall, inside the house. And the rain scenes and claustrophobia-inducing crowd shots heighten the mood even more.
This movie is not only a treatise on people's petty reactions but also makes you question the absurdity of rituals and how seriously they are taken as well. Is a life truly lived only if it ends well on a "first-class" note? And yet, the world over, why are funeral traditions as important as any other custom associated with life. What's mankind's obsession with getting death right? Well, when we know, maybe it will be too late!
Ee.Ma.Yau or Eesu.Mariyam.Yauseppe (Jesus, Mary, Joseph or interchangeably R.I.P) starts on a quirky note, if the movie title is anything to go by. Set in Chellanam, up on the coast near Ernakulam, it's a movie about how a small family (in the conventional sense) and a larger family (in the unconventional sense) deal with the sudden death and ensuing funeral of Vavachan Mestri. In a coastal community, death is never only your own. And this is evidenced how the entire community starts handling the funeral arrangements like its clockwork, when it's actually anything but. In fact, it is just utter chaos. And herein does the filmmaker shines in demonstrating how ghastly life can be, when dealing with death.
Vavachan Mestri comes home to his village and is greeted by pettiness immediately - a fisherman accuses Vavachan's daughter of having pre-marital relationship and being pregnant. Angered by being greeted with such gossip, Vavachan strikes the guy who informs him, before scurrying along home. The touch of absurdity is everywhere in this movie - you see how Vavachan callously picks up his bag carrying a live duck that he is carrying home. He gets home to find a flickering tubelight by the door that he starts adjusting being being greeted by a bickering wife. His daughter and daughter-in-law get on with cooking the duck for dinner, but he cant shake off what he heard and hence sits remorsefully outside. His son, Eeshy comes home and is told by his family about his father sitting and sulking outside and he decides the best way to console his dad is just by offering him drinks. Soon, they drink together and Vavachan starts talking about his contribution to the local church, how lavish the funeral to his father was and starts talking about his own funeral. Guilt-striken, his broke son promises him an equally lavish funeral and the absurdism oozing out of these scenes are about how happy the thought of a grand death makes Vavachan feel.
And it comes as no surprise that Vavachan falls dead soon in the living room, after chiding his son about the absurdity of how he hides smokes but openly drinks with his father. The womenfolk find him lying lifeless on the ground and the banshee shrieks begin almost immediately. Eeshy rushes in and is completely gobsmacked- but almost on cue, his neighbour and friend, Ayyapan (also the "committee" worker) arrives and starts trying to put the unforeseen chaos into order. What follows is how chaos becomes the hero - be it in reactions of people or the situations themselves. And the characters that you are introduced to, all bring their own ingredients to throw into the chaotic pyre. Be it the boyfriend character trying to get stolen moments with Vavachan's daughter, the "customized" howls from his wife strewn with topical jibes about her husband depending on the audience, the son scampering around to find money to try to make good of his promise of a grand goodbye to his father or the no-nonsense nurse who needs to pronounce the man dead or the Vicar who is convinced that there is foulplay in the death - the characters infuse soul into this lively satire. I loved the absurdist scenes which make you chuckle discreetly or guffaw guiltily - how the doctor can't come to confirm the death because he is lying drunk, how the nurse won't ride pillion on a bike in the middle of the night because it's unsafe but will ride the bike herself, how the "negotiation" for the coffin with "imported wood and velvet finish" at the funeral home takes place, how there is that annoying broken clarinet playing in the funeral band, how the dog scratches itself lazily as the clergymen walk past and ask an existential question that begets a theological answer, how the gossip mongers drink alcohol in the vicinity of the bereaved house and spin yarns, how the grave digger ironically digs his own grave, literally. P.F.Mathews just kills it with the spot-on screenplay.
Then the thundering cloudburst ushers in the crescendo of the movie with the second wife and her family arriving and throwing a spade into the funeral set-up. As rains get more torrential, so does the chaos. Eeshy breaks down completely and acts like a raving lunatic, when all he is feeling is immense grief and tremendous remorse for not being able to turn his promise of "first class coffin, first class band set,18 men with ceremonial staff holding the silver cross, the blessings of the Bishop" into a reality. Chemban Vinod Jose delivers a stellar performance as the well-intentioned son, who is equal parts confused and equal parts convinced about how his father's remains need to be treated. The rest of the cast, however little screen time they get, make an indelible mark.
I must confess - as much as I watched this movie because the director made another recent favourite of mine - Angamaly Diaries, I also watched this movie for Shyju Khalid, the cinematographer. As if to perfectly complement the sombre subject of the movie, the lenses weave magic with a deeply blue filter outside the house and a dimly-lit setting contrasting the jarring colours of the wall, inside the house. And the rain scenes and claustrophobia-inducing crowd shots heighten the mood even more.
This movie is not only a treatise on people's petty reactions but also makes you question the absurdity of rituals and how seriously they are taken as well. Is a life truly lived only if it ends well on a "first-class" note? And yet, the world over, why are funeral traditions as important as any other custom associated with life. What's mankind's obsession with getting death right? Well, when we know, maybe it will be too late!
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