Unlike other Tamil movies with their helpless heroines, pink-cheeked and impossibly, improbably trusting, here was the young woman I both felt like and wanted to be: moral, political, unafraid.Īlmost ten years later, I was still trying very hard to be those things, now beyond the private sphere of family. Watching that, I felt something move inside me, a tectonic shift, subtle but irrevocable. “Don’t stop me, or search for me,” she says, her face voluptuous with fury, her being ethereal under moonlight in a red and white sari-the Indian colors of purity and mourning. In contrast, when Charumathi’s brother dies in a gang clash, she explicitly blames her father, disowns him, and leaves the family home. But, of course, I never had the courage to say that-or anything truthful about how I perceived him relating to the world. I’d had the same thought about my father: The viciousness of his insults, the constant need for attention, the time he forbade me from speaking to my mother-they reminded me of a rabid dog, defensive and crazed. She looks at her father while she says this.
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“I saw not just you but your animal sides,” the don’s daughter, Charumathi, says to his friend, after seeing him attack someone under her father’s orders. But the brutality also produced a poignancy that I’d forgotten. My mother and I avoided the living room where my father sat with his fury, now silent but still smoldering, and settled on my twin bed to watch the don stab, threaten, and claw his way to power. Nayakan, by the filmmaker Mani Ratnam, which I remembered was about the rise of a ruthless Tamil mafia don in Bombay, seemed fitting-a story both violent and capricious. In the basement of our suburban Calgary house, amidst artifacts from our former life in India-wet grinder for making dosa, stacks of silk sarees-I scanned the bookcase stocked with VHS tapes, each one labeled in her neat cursive. In fact, the more the film reflected our states of mind, the better. The sub-genre didn’t matter-horror, action adventure, comedy-so long as it wasn’t a romantic comedy the disparity between the emotion onscreen and her own life would feel too sharp.
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In the aftermath of such clashes, only a Tamil film could soothe my mother.
KANNATHIL MUTHAMITTAL WATCH MOVIE
When I was fifteen, after a particularly savage fight between my parents, I looked for a movie with equally gruesome edges.