Rewatching ‘Kantara’ through a Feminist POV
As the movie starts, I travel into a whole different experience of man and nature, the power dynamics between the zamindars and the indigenous masses and the deep dark myth in the forest. The Rishab Shetty directed Kantara that translates as ‘forest’ revolves around the land and forest rights of the indigenous people, zamindars and the State. However, while the story of the masses is an undertone in the film, the cultural beliefs, practices and ways of life of the people is what the film is all about.
Approximately 15 minutes into the film, I’m introduced to Panjurli (the forest God) and Guliga (the companion of Panjurli the ‘Guardian Deity’). Panjurli the daiva is the one who maintains a balance between the forest and the village. Hence, when the King requests to take Panjurli with him, he asks the king to grant the villagers a portion of the land, to which the king agrees and takes Him to his village accompanied by Guliga.
By this time I’m flabbergasted by the concept of Daiva and the loud shrills of the Demi God which makes me feel uncomfortable and yet astonished. Soon the Dolby speakers in the theatre boom with ‘Varaha Roopam’ and yet again I dwell deep into the artistic representation of Bhoota Kola, a ritual widely popular and performed in rural parts of Dakshin Karnataka. The extravagant fight scenes, the plight of the villagers, atrocities of the upper-class and the evocation of Guliga in the final scene makes me believe that I’ve never experienced something like this before.
I leave the theatre and instantly go into social media to watch the BTS, songs and reviews of the film. A week after I watched the film, I’m still hooked to the songs and scenes which have made a lasting impact on me.
The Success of Kantara Must Not Sideline It’s Sexist Approach
I repeat again, that I was so stunned by the grandeur of Kantara that I insisted (almost forced) my boyfriend to watch it with me in the theatres. However, this time I watched it between the lines and realised, the success and extravaganza of the film has sidelined the sexist treatment of its female characters.
Well it’s not a surprise that popular movies have steal the limelight for its action sequences, catchy songs and over-the-top portrayal of the ‘heroes’ life. However, while the audiences flock into the theatres and hoot and whistle on the ‘hero’s’ entry, more than often we overlook the patriarchal depictions of the female protagonist. From Pushpa to Kabir Singh, sometimes Allu Arjun’s grand entry leaves a lasting impact on us or sometimes we tap our foot Oo Antava, and at times we get immersed into the music of Bekhayali. (Well, we can speak about this in some other blog, today let’s concentrate on Kantara)
There’s no doubt that Kantara has got everything that makes a good film, a gripping storyline, blend of myth and reality, splendid performances, awestrucking cinematography and perfect BGM. Despite these perfections we cannot or should not overlook the sexist scenes, which need to be shunned.
Female protagonist- A mere bystander
The moment we are introduced to the character of Leela who returns to the village after being trained as a forest officer (which is the only backstory we learn about her). This is because mostly we see Leela through a male gaze of the Hero, and she shares minimum screen time, hence the audience only catch a glimpse of her during songs or when the hero needs a romantic or emotional support.
Leela is nothing but a mere bystander who is completely overshadowed by the hero (Shiva). As a middle class Indian girl I personally would have loved to know more about a girl from a small town paving her way to be trained as a forest officer, secure a job and become independent. Let’s draw a basic difference here, Shiva has been depicted as a simple man enjoying the little pleasures of life, constantly drinking, hunting and roaming with friends. Would we like a person like this in real life? Well, he is charactarized as a man who can’t stand injustice and is extremely aggressive, which is normalized in the film.
On the other hand, we have Leela who is a well trained forest officer and is dedicated towards her professions. The only thing we get to know about her apart from being the love interest of Shiva is that being a forest officer was her passion. Later in the movie, she is compelled to resign from her post, because Shiva doesn’t like it.
There’s another female character who is only present in the film to provide humour through her ugliness. The character is constantly mocked for being ugly. There’s a scene where her husband explains that he saw something at night, to which she replies that it was her whom he saw. And I thought humour out of an individual’s body shape, colour and features was a thing of the past. What disappointed me the most was when the theatre burst into laughter and I questioned myself, ‘Are we really progressing?’
Skewed idea of romance
The idea of romance in Indian movies has mostly been problematic, be it the ‘wooing the girl phase’ or the romantic scenes. Kantara too lives up to this skewed idea of romance, and the first evidence of this is seen when Shiva pinches Leela’s waist when they meet for the first time. What amazes me even more is the way Leela reacts as though it’s a completely normal act of courting.
Later in the movie we witness how Shiva goes on to dominate and mistreat her, and has no respect for her privacy, decisions or profession. While some might argue stating that men like Shiva do exist and there are women like Leela IRL. However, portrayal of faulty characters has never been a problem, the question arises when the characters are glorified and romanticised.
Sexy Lamp Test
The test proposes that when a female character in a film can be replaced with a sexy lamp and the story still works, then the film fails the test. It makes us think about the female character's relevance: is she significant to the plot or just eye candy?
Let’s apply the same test to the character of Leela from Kantara, who hardly shares any screen space. Her role in the film is limited to the love song and we catch glimpses of her only to support the ‘hero’. In fact, the way she falls in love with Shiva is also absurd. She falls in love with him in a jiffy, as soon as he manages to secure a job for her by using his relationship with the landlord. The time duration between Leela disliking Shiva and falling in love with him is a bike ride, and soon the theatre immerses into ‘Singara Sariye’ .
Now replace Leela’s character with a lamp, does it make any difference in the plot? The absence of the female protagonist would have affected the romantic scenes in the film and there would be a lack of ‘female support’ in the hero’s life. This shows how the existence of Leela is only to provide a pillar to the character of Shiva. The only time we witness her power and energy is in the last fight sequence when she goes into the war cry and throws the spear.
Hero: The Saviour Phenomena
A subtle yet patriarchal element in the movie is when the audience learns Leela knows how to ride a bike, however we never witness her driving one, but always sitting on the back with Shiva. The only time she is seen riding a bike is when Shiva is in jail. This signifies a subtle portrayal of how the hero/man/saviour is always supposed to be in the forefront and the heroine is supposed to follow him.
The saviour phenomena or what ScoopWhoop termed as ‘Go-to man saviour’ is present in various movies. We have witnessed it in Bahubali or Mission Mangal where the male protagonists are the uplifters of women. Which I think needs to stop, it’s time Indian cinema moves beyond the shackles of the male POV and get the female representation right.
Tumbbad and Kantara: The portrayal of faulty male characters
Soon after the popularity of Kantara, social media enthusiasts took to Instagram and Twitter comparing the movie with Tumbbad. The 2018 Anand Gandhi and Rahi Anil Barve directed hindi-language period horror drama Tumbbad became a critically acclaimed film. The premise of the film revolves around the mythological story of Hastar.
The male protagonist Vinayak Rao is a greedy, money-minded misogynist who does everything wrong, from going to unthinkable measures to get gold to having a mistress despite being married. The difference is that Vinayak is never glorified for his deeds and action, he is a faulty character who repents in the end and faces consequences for his actions that is death.
So, while Tumbbad uses horror as an allegory to present toxic masculinity and patriarchy, Kantara celebrates it.
Perfectly analysed🤌
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. Means a lot !
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