Urumi refuses to be pushed into the wasteland of Malluwood
A visual statement against invasions: from the old Gama who crossed the ocean with fanatical missionary zeal to the modern-day Gamas who go on an expansion rampage with corportate seal. This is what I’d like to sum up Urumi, a bilingual movie by cinematographer-director Santosh Shivan.
The film is highly relevant in the contemporary socio-political scenario because it sends out a strong message against trans-national mining companies, which in cahoots with the local governments, drive away the Adivasis and rob their mineral-rich lands.
An incorrigible pessimist of present-day Malayalam movie field, I felt relieved watching Urumi, for it helps hammer a social reality into those apolitical movie buffs out there. (There are still souls who dismiss the movie as a flop because they just couldn’t grasp the essence in it!). In a movie industry that churns out substandard, treacle-dipped and worn-out plots with the pathetic bellicose bombast of Suresh Gopi clan, Urumi is refreshingly fantastic for two reasons. The message it sends out and its Santosh Sivan signature visual appeal.
The film is an eclectic blend of fact and fiction; the director successfully blends history with imagination to weave a historical thriller drama anchored on a contemporary social reality: MNCs v/s marginalized Adivasis.
Portuguese murderous ghoul Vasco Da Gama has been given a dressing down, a deviation from the popular textbook portrayal of “a hero on a voyage in search of distant lands and fortunes”. His overly romanticized cowboy image is broken into pieces with scenes of him mercilessly cutting down the ears of Zamorin's emissaries who are sent to him for negotiations.
Gama is given a virtual reincarnation by Alexx O’Nell. Three cheers for that!
The minister, portrayed by Jagathi Sreekumar, could well be the Chidambaram of our times; Nirvana reminds us of Vedanta, which is hell-bent on destroying the pristine Niyamgiri Hills and the livelihood of ancient tribes in Orissa.
Urumi is not without blemishes. Prithiraj has done it well; but at times his warrior-hero postures appear gross. However, his graphic-induced muscles are cool. The female leads wear blouses. We know that fifteenth century Kerala women didn’t have blouses; they started using them only in the 19th century. But we can forgive Shivan for this and some of the other hiccups like a chain of pearl Jagathi sports throughout the film (The chain appears to be plain plastic. I had taken note of it the moment I saw it on the poster itself); for he has given us an entertainment par excellence with a relevant message.
And as I complete this piece, my journo buddy Jabir Musthari tells me that a song in the movie, Alakadaloliyano, is a copy of a beautiful song by Canadian singer Loreena McKennitt. But I am not surprised. Plagiarism in
Urumi...is a told story but in unusual methoad. The message written between the lines in the story has been well presented by Mr Firos by his comparisons made especially in second and third paragraphs. But Mr Shivan had to face critics for the unsuitable dressing code and accessories as the writer had noted. But the film is a feast for eyes and ears as his earlier work 'Ananthabadram'. But the critics writer had failed to notify the readers that these type of movies could become a historical mislead for the coming generation.
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