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January 1, 2000

The first day of the year falsely hyped as the millennium year. A mega
Malayalam movie with a pompous title Millennium Stars is relased on this
mega Saturday.

An increasingly indifferent audience was lured. To their dismay, they found
it too garish and the countdown began.

Millennium Stars bombed and with it a whopping (by Malayalam industry
standards) one and a half crore rupees.

The disaster was portentious. All that was simmering within the industry all
through the 1990s was about to culminate in one fatal explosion in 2000.

January 26, 2000

Republic Day. Malayalam cinema's biggest ever grosser Narasimham is
released.

A Shaji Kailas potboiler, starring Mohanlal, so outrageously chauvinistic
that 72% of those surveyed by a film magazine said they felt uncomfortable
with the film.

Its massive success cast a gigantic shadow that devoured the entire
Malayalam film industry. Well almost. "The Narasimham hangover is
terrifically strong and it has, at least for the moment, killed the
prospects of good films. I don't see any other reason for the failure of
well made female-oriented films like Mazha and Madhuranombarakkattu,"
observes Arun of The New Indian Express.

Irony struck fast. The film eclipsed the supernova himself. For the first
time in his career, Mohanlal found himself thoroughly overshadowed. By a
character played by himself. In Narasimham's mustachioed hero who goes about
threatening opponents with steel fists and wacky oneliners, he met his own
nemesis. All his subsequent films fell flat.

The internationally acclaimed Vaanaprastham robbed his production company
of a couple of crores. His family drama, Life Is Beautiful, with Malayalam
cinema's trendsetter Fazil had a wretched run at the BO.

Then came the family-action-romance cocktail, Sraddha, with Malayalam
cinema's most consistent hit maker, I V Sasi. Again, we saw the megastar
pratfall. Even after his latest supernatural thriller Devadootan (The
Heavenly Messenger), Kerala's most loved star is yet to achieve redemption.

Meanwhile, rival star Mammootty rode the Narasimham wave, pocketed a earful
of front bench cheers and effectively buoyed a sagging mass appeal. His
Valiyettan (Big Brother), again directed by Shaji Kailas, was yet another
odious display of male chauvinism. Kerala went out of its way to encourage
Narasimham's younger brother.

March 10, 2000

An insignificant Friday or so it seemed. Kinnarathumpikal (Lovelorn
Dragonflies) -- a film made for a meagre Rs 12 lakhs by an hitherto unknown
associate cinematographer R J Prasad is released. For the first time,
Malayalees set their eyes on Shakeela. Her dreamy eyes, puffed-up flesh
squeezed within a low cut blouse and her deep, deep cleavage.

To Shakeela's oomph, add that illegal porn 'bit' and Eureka! Producers had
an effective formula to tackle the Narasimham menace. The Shakeela starrer
raked in a mind boggling Rs 4 crore. A host of low budget films, made at Rs
20-25 lakh, followed, taking advantage of the subsidy package offered by the
government owned Chitranjali studio. New sex bombs were activated. Theatres
were on fire. Voyeurs hooted, grunted and yelled for an encore.

More than anyone, it was Shakeela herself who is the most surprised by the
success. "Many people tell me that my figure is suited for an actress. And
most of the e-mail I receive are requests to reduce flab," the temptress is
unable to fathom the craze. "Probably my eyes did the trick," she
rationalises.

Overweight she is. But it was Shakeela and her low cut blousisters who did
all the sha-la-la this year.

"Look at the audience profile. More and more of our ladies are rooting for
televised soaps. This leaves theatres to the mercy of men, particularly
youngsters. So it is only natural that films which cater to their egos and
their raunchy fantasies click," reasons Prasad Laxman, editor of
Vellinakshatram, a leading film weekly.

But then, Kerala had a readymade environment for two epidemics to strike at
will -- bootlegging and pornography. It is just a question of manipulating
the resource mix. The Narasimham factor forced R J Prasad to add more flesh
and the present boom ensued.

It happened in 1989 when P Chandrakumar, a clean family entertainer, was
offended by the highhandedness of stars. He cast an extra by the name
Abhilasha in the role of Eve in his costumeless biblical Adipapam (First
Sin). The film turned out to be God's own country's first superhit sin.
Abhilasha the Eve became a rage and Chandrakumar the Lord of soft porn. And
with a vengeance he proclaimed : "Abhilasha's thighs and Mammootty's face
costs the same."

"The boom was fuelled by a lenient Madras Censor Board. When they were
barred from censoring Malayalam films, they dried up," says Rajakrishnan, a
noted film historian.

Now, like Mohanlal, Shakeela and Chandrakumar too seek redemption. Shakeela
is fed up with her bimbo image. "After my pending projects, I would like to
take up character roles. Even a five-minute aunty role will do."
Unfortunately for her, her image is made.

Even after a decade, Chandrakumar finds deliverance too hard to come by.
This was the man who had given Malayalees some excellent film like
Asthamayam. "After Kinnarathumpikal, I was flooded with offers. But never
will I direct such a film. Today, all my good films are forgotten. I want my
name back."

But some of Kerala's biggest talents -- Padmarajan, Bharatan and I V Sasi --
made their names in the late Seventies with films having sex as its
leitmotif. I V Sasi's Avalude Ravukal, Padmarajan-Bharatan duo's
Rathinirvedam and Thakara are even today hailed as bold creative
experiments.

Unfortunately the classics of the late Seventies were manipulated with "that
illegal porn bit" to finagle moolah from outside the State. The exploitation
went to ridiculous levels. "I still remember P A Bakker's classic,
Kabaninadi Chuvannappol (When the Kabani River turned red) releasing in Pune
as The Red Lips of Miss Kabani," reminisces V R Gopinath, an FTII alumni and
a noted director.

Malayalam cinema became synonymous with sleaze.

Then, it was crass injustice. But today? It has definitely lost its creative
standi.

September 13, 2000

A humid Friday that flattered to deceive. Hit maker Priyadarshan's much
awaited Raakkilippattu is slated for release. The distributor despatches the
prints to all major theatres in the State. But he is not prepared for a rude
shock. The exhibitors organise and ban the film from playing in any theatres
until the distributor paid up.

The collection of advance money from theatre owners even before the shooting
has begun has been prevalent of late. The distributor bargains by pitting
theatres against each other and in the process squeezes the maximum amount.
The advance money or hafta, as a theatre owner puts it, for a superstar
movie could be as high as Rs 15 lakh.

"Nowadays, people seem reluctant to come to theatres and it has become
difficult to recover even the advance money from our meagre collection. The
distributor promises to make up with his next movie and coolly pockets the
advance money for his next venture from another theatre," Mohankumar, the
manager of the Trivandrum Kripa theatre says, bitterly.

When the practise became insufferably rampant, the exhibitors organised and
embargoed producers who owed them. A dozen or more top films were thus
locked in the box and barred from attending office.

The theatre owners, however, were not going to leave their projectors
spool-less and allowed the porns to make a killing. Of the 73 films released
last year, 21 were of the sleaze variety and most of them had recoverd their
cost. But among the remaining 51, there were only three hits and two
just-about hits.

While A class theatres recorded a 40% fall in collection, B and C classes
suffered an alarming 50-60% reduction.

Malayalam cinema is neck-deep in trouble.

Even as more and more films see red, the production cost rises in geometric
progression. From a budget of Rs 50 to Rs 75 lakhs for a superstar movie in
1995, it has flared up to over Rs 3 crores today. Even a film with second
level stars costs Rs one crore.

Superstar Mammootty is furious. "If stars charge exorbitant rates, don't pay
them," he makes a point and continues. "Ninety per cent of my producers are
yet to give me the money they promised. So it is not star charges but bad
planning which is at the root."

Producers agree. "Lack of planning is what is hitting cinema hard. There is
no proper script and directors splurge unnecessarily," says Suresh Kumar,
owner of Revathy Kalamandir, under whose banner was released two major BO
duds of 2000.

In the Seventies and Eighties, Malayalam cinema's biggest boon was the
presence of "floating producers": Non-resident Keralites who happily
invested their surplus money into the making of cinema. "These people never
minded failure. It was the love of cinema that kept them going. But when the
Gulf boom ended, the floaters vanished. And today, we have fly-by-night
producers who are completely ignorant of the nitty-gritties of filmmaking,"
director V R Gopinath avers.

The enormity of the problem can be gauged from the fact that Malayalam
cinema today has only one established banner -- Seven Arts. And they did not
have a single release last year.

Why should they? Especially when they are busy producing a superhit
television soap.

December 21, 1998

A fatal attraction begins. The first episode of Kerala's first megahit
televison megaserial, Sthree (Woman) is aired today.

Sthree became part of an average cable viewing Malayali's existence. So too
were its successors Charulata, Jwalayayi, Thaali and others.

"We are not willing to sacrifice our half hour excitement for the confusion
of a two-and-a-half hour cinema. It's not worth it. Unless cinema sheds its
mediocrity, it cannot hope to attract the family audience," says Anup
Varghese, a business Executive working for Ushus Tech in Technopark.

Cinemascopes had effectively lost their clientele to the unassuming 22
inches.

However, it is the omnipresence of the superstars that chafes many. The
general secretary of Kerala Cine Exhibitors Association T P Vasu is
irritated. "It is during the festival season that we get the maximum
collection. But the stars appear on a deluge of special programmes on the
various channels simultaneously with the release of their movies. The
audience get to see their favourite stars on TV and our theatres run dry
even during festival days."

It is not just the exhibitors. Distributors too are a disgusted lot. "It is
the satellite and cable network that is harming cinema most. On an average
14 films are aired everyday through all the channels. Cinema should get some
kind of a protection to overcome this."

When producers finally decided to put a ban on film actors of a certain
standing working in the small screen, it was shot down by the stars. It was
not a surprise. Superstar Mammootty's company, Megabytes, is presently
producing the most popular TV soap, Jwalayayi.

"Like the producers, everyone has their business interests. It is ridiculous
to say that the crisis in Malayalam cinema is precipitated by the channels.
Plan movies well and things will be allright," repeats Mammooty, the
chairman of CPM backed Kairali channel. Mohanlal is also a director board
member.

January 10, 2001

On the tenth day of the true millennium year, a policy decision is made.
From today onwards, 'A' rated movies will not be subsidised by Chitranjali
studio.

As if that was what the crisis was all about. It is the 'bit' stupid.
Something which should have been ideally left to the care of a low level
babu at the corporation, municipal or taluk level. The real problem lies
elsewhere. Listen to Fazil, Malayalam cinema's greatest showman. "There is
no crisis in the film industry other than the fact that we are not producing
good movies."

In parting:

When a leading film magazine came out with its annual round up, the three
circles of 2000 had the faces of Mammootty, Mohanlal and Shakeela. No
arguments. It was they who starred in Y2k's three biggest hits. The very
same hits that kicked Malayalam cinema beyond the brink of disaster.