Breaking The Mould: Evolving Roles For Women In Malayalam Cinema

AT 38, Lillikutty, according to her bed-ridden father is already past her prime. One reason why they haven’t been able to find a groom for her is due to her mental imbalance. So when Nagendran (Suraj Venjaramoodu), a conman on a marriage spree to fund his Kuwait trip offers to marry her, Lillikutty is overjoyed. During their first meeting, though Nagendran is tensed to witness Lillikutty's erratic, volatile self, as she monkeys around, he ends up marrying her. On their nuptial night, Lillikutty’s mental illness becomes obvious as she persists with her unstable behaviour, driving Nagendran to the wall. 

One reason why this is the only moderately engaging segment in Nagendran’s Honeymoons (Disney+Hotstar web series), directed by Nithin Renji Panicker, an otherwise middling, archaic narrative set in the 80s has everything to do with Grace Antony, who personifies Lillikutty. It’s also the only instance in that series when a character takes centrestage, dwarfing her co-players in the process. And the filmmaker pulls no stops in capturing Grace’s unbridled “madness”—from her sly, knowing grin, to her rhythmic hop, alarming mood swings, disconcerting stare, and dialogue delivery that’s almost a musical drawl. Every aspect of her performance is meticulously crafted to convey the complexity of her character. And certainly, there isn’t an actor in the current generation who can pull off Lillikutty with such alacrity as Grace. 

But here’s the catch—Grace is also a blend of Kalpana and Urvashi, queens of impeccable comic timing in Malayalam cinema. So despite the nuance and finesse, one simply can’t unsee the striking similarity and therefore falls short of being original. But then this lack of originality isn’t there when she shifts to sombre roles—the young, distraught woman tricked into marrying a man who has vowed to destroy her deceased husband’s family in Rorschach (2022) was subtly done. Or her best-written role to date—Simi in Kumbalangi Nights (2019) who has quietly learned to negotiate with patriarchy. One of the best scenes features Simi calmly putting her foot down when her psychotic husband disrespects her sister. And in the next scene, as swiftly she goes back to being the subservient partner. 

On the other hand, Resmitha in Nunakkuzhi (2024) is cany, aggressive, and unafraid to manipulate any situation in her favour. Take this scene in which she barges into her husband’s friend’s clinic, and roughs him up for his testimony against her in court and Grace Antony’s unbridled emotions make the scene look visceral and real. As Suhara (Halal Love Story), who feels stifled by her indifferent partner, she is terrifically restrained. Look out for that scene in which she confides about her husband’s betrayal to the casting director for proof.

Interestingly Anna Ben who debuted with Grace Antony in Kumbalangi Nights, has had a different trajectory so far. She has a unique presence, is spontaneous, and has a natural charm. Unlike Grace, she has had the fortune of receiving strong, author-backed roles. Baby Mol was spunky and forthright unlike her sister Simi, and the actor, also because it was her debut, seamlessly absorbed the character’s traits. There was a refreshing candour in Anna’s toothy grin and direct gaze. Two scenes stand out—1) Her verbal exchange with her brother-in-law in which she casually calls his misogyny and 2) Humorously calling off her boyfriend for being so sour about rejection. But it is also true that most of her author-backed roles were tailor-made for her “spunky, plain-speaking” image (Helen, Sara’s, Naradan, Night Drive, Trishanku), considered a key factor in her success. So that has also led to a sense of duplication, with the danger of getting typecast.

A pressing issue with many young actors today is their difficulty in stepping out of their comfort zones. Since most of them are primarily trained in behavioural, realistic acting, they often falter when adapting to a genre that demands stylised performances. That was evident in Kaapa, where Anna played a faceless gang leader who waged a war against a small-town don. But her weak dialogue delivery and forced body language are such a deterrent in selling her character’s menace or motives that she ends up turning Binu into an unintentional meme fest. Even in Kalki, her Kyra worked as she ticked all the Anna Ben character boxes.

In her debut Malayalam film, Varane Avashyamund (2020), Kalyani Priyadarshan’s Nikki seemed deceptively simple to essay, but then there are moments and layers to her character that validate the debutante’s confident performance. For instance, in the scenes with her mother Neena (Shobana), she fails to empathise with Neena and coldly invalidates her struggles as a single mom. Nikki despite her age, judges her mother for choosing to find love again. Kalyani is surprisingly assured, often eloquently conveying her emotions through non-verbal communication. But then even her film choices have followed a similar template, reinforcing her urban, confident, and sophisticated on-screen persona (Bro Daddy, Hridayam, Thallumala, Putham Puthu Kaalai). Perhaps Shesham Mike-il Fathima (aspiring football commentator) and Antony (prodigal child) were her attempts to break away from that image. One feels Kalyani’s riveting screen presence has been a significant asset, even when her performances haven’t been exemplary.

Athira Krishnan in Udhaharanam Sujatha (remake of Nil Battey Sannata) is an annoying, ungrateful brat, who ignores her mother’s daily struggles to run their household. She embodies everything that’s teenage and finds various ways to disappoint her mother (Manju Warrier) who is worried about her future. What debutante Anaswara Rajan brings to the table in essence is herself—it’s such an unprocessed act that it’s difficult to delineate the actor from the character. The impudence, defiance, playfulness—all there in exact dosage. In fact, Anaswara’s on-screen characters have paralleled her journey into adulthood, reflecting her growth as an actor. Thaneer Mathan Dinangal’s Keerthi is a relatable teen, impressionable, and naive but prone to theatrics. Her love story with Jason is fraught with confusion, yet she clings to him. But it is also true that Anaswara has been saddled with characters that belied her age, and therefore remained unremarkable. 

But if two characters truly define her trajectory as an actor, then it is Sharanya (Super Sharanya) and Sara (Neru). Initially, Sharanya is shown as timid and submissive, who lets others walk all over her. But once she experiences the transformative power of love, she blossoms into a confident young woman, rediscovering herself in the process. Anaswara aces the internalisation with such ease that, Sharanya’s transition (which is in the little details) is easy to buy. In Neru she portrays a blind artist who is also a rape survivor. What’s startling is how she nails even the tiniest nuances of a blind person’s behaviour, showcasing her precise attention to detail. And, she just as seamlessly puts up a poignant act as a survivor wavering between steely resolve and vulnerability.

While Mamita Baiju took a longer route to find her feet. Her career took off after Super Sharanya. Sona is brash and upright but also a loner at heart. There is also a bit of oddity in how she perceives people. Considering her candour and integrity, her infatuation for her toxic senior is baffling, and so is her patronising attitude towards Sharanya. Again what elevates Sona is the ingenuity and depth with which Mamita portrays her. It’s the kind of performance that feels deeply personal as if Mamita has poured a part of herself into shaping Sona. As for Premalu, easily her finest moment on screen, Reenu is unthinkable without Mamita’s verve and spontaneity. Note her reaction to Sachin as he proposes to her at the café—a multitude of emotions flit across her face—vexation, compassion, and perplexity. The maturity with which she handles Sachin’s disappointment, the quiet confidence in her decision, and her willingness to let go of their friendship—everything is so subtly conveyed there.

It is indeed a matter of concern that there aren’t enough diverse and original stories for female actors, leaving them vulnerable to typecasting. But thankfully, a few ingenious writers are breaking stereotypes and paving the way for more nuanced representations.