24 frames per second

My friend Praba Ram and I had a lovely discussion about Maharaja, and it brought up a number of interesting points, some of which I felt merited a separate blog post. VERY SPOILERIFIC, so don’t read this unless you’ve watched the film or don’t plan to.

First, the dustbin. My first thought was that it was simply an interesting plot device — a way to pull us in by the strength of its absurdity. In fact, it reminded me of Kamal’s introduction in Viswaroopam as an effeminate kathak teacher. We eventually find out a backstory for the dance itself in part 2, but it felt like the idea was to make him such a contrast to who he really was that the revelation of his identity was all the more effective.

But then, during this discussion, it occurred to me that maybe it symbolizes women’s safety. Nallasivam verbalizes it most brutally towards the end, but it’s there all along. Its connection with the girl’s safety is established right at the start by making it the instrument of her survival, and therefore something that is treasured by father and daughter. When it is reported as stolen, the cops don’t care until they find that there is something in it for them. In contrast, whenever Maharaja talks about it, he talks about it as a real, living, thing to be valued. Most telling of all, Lakshmi is actually right under Jothi’s bed when she recovers, indicating her agency and desire for self-sufficiency in the whole thing.

Aside: In fact, this is one aspect I quite liked: Jothi basically says, f*** you, I’ll get over this. Sexual violence is very much prevalent and is probably worse now (or maybe it always was but the reporting is higher), but we’re moving from depicting them as victims to survivors. (Andrea Jeremiah in Anal mele panithuli is another example.) We’re also seeing it slowly seep into the way mainstream cinema defines how a woman should behave – there’s a little less ponnunna ippidi thaan irukkanum nonsense. It’s not gone, but there’s a bit less now.

Now, to be fair, none of this might have been the filmmaker’s intention — he might simply have wanted to create an intriguing hook for his story. And it’s an enticing rabbit hole to go down — Selvam buys his daughter a necklace with footprints in it, whereas Maharaja (presumably) buys her running shoes. Then there’s the snake…

But to paraphrase Albus Dumbledore, “Of course it is happening inside our head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” As with all art, what we take from it depends on what we bring to it.