Imagine a young girl being hit, mistreated and threatened by her father for years. In her early 20s, she is tired of the life she leads. But at her lowest ebb, a knight in shining armour brings joy and protects her from her father. And they lived happily ever after.
And they lived happily ever after...
And then one day, the knight HITS her.
This is what happens to Surabi (Aaditi Pohankar), Kalai’s (Kavin) wife in Star. He is an ambitious person whose dreams hit a roadblock when he meets with an accident. For Surabi, Kalai is the sun that once shined bright enough to save her from abuse. So, she patiently supports his dream and gives him the emotional backing that he lacks. After months of pretending to be happy, Kalai's pent-up frustration – of not getting to do what he loves – erupts. He slaps her and asks her to leave.
He eventually becomes a star. Cut to the seaside, where a smiling Surabhi is seen holding their infant girl, happy for his success. No apologies are made, and no pain is shown.
Looking at a Star in isolation may not show you a problematic pattern. Here is a flawed character, who is narcissistic and obsessive. In multiple interviews, the film’s director Elan too pointed out that Kalai truly becomes a star when he overcomes his self-centred nature. But during this journey, the emotional labour forced on Surabhi feels too familiar. On different levels, you get reminded of Karthik (Dhanush) from Mayakkam Enna and Arjun (Nani) from Jersey.
There are two things common among these three films. All are stories about strugglers who are trying to chase a big dream. Second, the women in these films, the protagonist’s wives, take charge of the financial, emotional, and familial responsibilities to ensure the men can focus on their careers.
“When we talk of equality, this is part of a deal. When women are floundering, men are expected to look after them. So, when men flounder, women take on the labour,” says senior journalist Subha J Rao. But what becomes of the emotional labour when their partners show no interest in taking care of the house, the family, or life in general?
In Jersey, Arjun bets the money kept aside for electricity bills. Their house is leaking. He doesn’t help with cooking or cleaning and doesn’t spend time with family. Rao points out that up to a point, Jersey was also a film about the frustrations of Sarah (Shraddha Srinath). “The film was also about a woman who marries a previously successful man but suddenly realises she is the one left in charge.”
Sarah works at a five-star hotel, a job she deeply dislikes just like Kalai in Star. If you were to draw parallels between Kalai and Sarah, both of their dreams shatter in front of them, and at least Kalai was aware of the accident that changed his life. Sarah remains clueless. She runs from pillar to post every day, trying to make ends meet, both at work and home, making up for all the running that Arjun avoids doing. What about her lost dream? Is it that her dream isn’t gripping enough for the screen?
In a recent interview, Elan admitted he sees Surabhi as an angel who enters Kalai’s life. If Sarah, Surabhi and Yamini (Richa Gangopadhyay in Mayakkam Enna) are angels who keep granting wishes and fix the men, don’t these magical human beings have a life of their own? You also see very little depth in the writing of these characters. Surabhi literally seems to have fallen from heaven to solve Kalai’s problems. Her character is introduced halfway into the film, right at the moment when Kalai needs a shoulder to cry on. She loves him dearly and is willing to go to any lengths for him, but as someone who has always longed for love, does she ever feel equally loved? Does she have any other dreams?
While Sarah points out Arjun’s flaws and fights with him, both Surabhi and Yamini are written to remain silent. In Mayakkam Enna, the problems are much larger – Karthik begins to physically abuse her. Rao says, “That film disturbed me on so many levels because she lost her fetus when he hit her. But she comes back and cleans the place. This is a previously confident woman who is now a willing doormat. Why would you settle for so little? Why would you willingly be a doormat? And he gets away with everything. He hits his friends, he is angry with her, he hits her, and then he needs her for sex and that is also fine. I think it’s a male’s version of heaven.”
Priya, whose tweet on the same topic stirred up a conversation, also agrees with Rao. “From a woman’s perspective, can you ever imagine being with someone who caused you a miscarriage?” she asks. “That’s unrealistic levels of expecting one’s spouse to put up with things. As women, we are expected to stand behind our partners even when it has crossed limits. It’s fantasy to expect that level of supportiveness.”
In a way, Prabhu Ram Vyas’ Lover sheds a different light on stories about struggling men. It lays its focus on the relationship between Arun and Divya. Arun aspires to open a cafe while Divya is slowly climbing the corporate ladder. The sudden difference in their social and financial circles creates a gap. The film takes its time to portray the insecurities that Arun faces, while also calling out his toxicity. Vyas says, “In my story, I wanted to bring both points of view because it’s about their relationship. But probably, in general, such films don’t delve much into the perspective of the partner. So, you see this pattern in films.”
Vyas points out that Ajith’s Mugavaree is an outlier too. “Although the film doesn’t talk about marriage, Ajith’s character is not completely self-centred. He’d constantly be affected by how his quest for passion is affecting people around him.”
Speaking about the depiction of relationships in such films, Rao reminds us of Suryavamsam, a film that sees its couple supporting each other to achieve their individual goals. She says, “Looking back, I found many things problematic about Suryavamsam. The stamp of patriarchy was all over, right from Devayani’s confident character always being cognisant of men’s superiority to villainising a woman because she rejected a man’s love. Yet the young couple backing each other was one of the nicer things I remember.”
Not that Sarah, Yamini or Surabhi are characters you know nothing about. Rao says she looks at Surabhi as the hero of Star, as a woman with a plan. “That proposal scene in the auditorium is really good. How long has it been since you saw a woman take the first step in a relationship? The scene is very similar to the confession scene of Vikram in Sethu. It’s almost a gender-swapped version of it but much more tender... After all that she had to go through in life, she knew only a job would get her out of everything. The portrayal of financially independent women is always a step forward.” Jersey too has scenes of Sarah being firm, fighting for what she thinks is right and chiding her husband when he doesn’t act responsibly. But you don’t really go up close to see what exactly these women are feeling.
Strangely, in both Mayakkam Enna and Jersey, a lot changes for them after marriage, including their wardrobe. The modern women who loved wearing jeans and skirts are now only clad in sarees. Then we get a location change; the aesthetic cafes and beaches are swapped with the kitchen. In Mayakkam Enna, Yamini is depicted as a bold woman with a high-paying job. Before Yamini and Karthik start dating, you see her in the office. But after their marriage, her only job seems to be cleaning up after Karthik. A lot of people praise Yamini and celebrate her unwavering support. But there is a thin line between being a supportive partner and a doormat, Rao says. “Which is why I think you need more inclusive writing rooms where lived experiences get shared and find a way to enter the reel world.”
It’s hard to see stories led by women, and harder to see stories that have a woman struggling to chase her dreams. In a success story of a struggling woman, the man too gets a central focus. Take Dear Comrade for instance. While we see the challenges behind Lilly’s (Rashmika Mandanna) cricketing dreams, we’re also shown Bobby’s (Vijay Deverakonda) personal journey and coming-of-age. Irudhi Suttru belongs to Aditya (Madhavan) as much as it does to Ezhil (Ritika Singh). Not only does the film portray the complex mentor-mentee relationship but also delves into both of their personal lives. These men don’t just belong to the women's world, but have a life of their own.
Like Sudha Kongara’s Irudhi Suttru, a study of her film Soorarai Pottru too helps us understand why inclusivity in writing rooms is important. Let’s pick a common scene from Mayakkam Enna, Star and Soorarai Pottru – the mandatory make-or-break slap scene. Out of frustration, in all three films, the men hit the women. Jersey has a slap scene too but here, Sarah slaps Arjun when she is upset. The similarities between Soorarai Pottru and Jersey though is a sense of regret that these characters feel. Unlike Surabhi and Yamini, Bommi (Aparna Balamurali) in Soorarai Pottru stands up for herself when her husband Maara (Suriya) slaps her. And Maara is called out for his actions. The women aren’t given the space to react in Star or Mayakkam Enna.
Priya says, “In Star, if they hadn’t built Surabhi’s character in a particular way, the impact would’ve been different. It bothers me that they have given a huge backstory to her just to build up to that one scene where he slaps her. Even in Soorarai Pottru, why do we need a slap scene to show how strong their relationship is? The scene with Maara hesitating to ask for money from Bommi portrays the relationship better.”
Rao and Vyas note that the shallow depictions of women in such films and the element of physical violence find their place on the screen because of a mix of flawed characters and flawed writing. Vyas says that it doesn’t mean one must present utopian characters. Instead, one should approach characters with a certain responsibility. “It’s important to be conscious about what you perceive and how you think it’ll be perceived. Having scenes where another character calls out the issue or one where the main character realises or regrets is the way you can draw a line.”
Rao adds, “After all the disappointments and failed opportunities, it is difficult to expect the protagonist to be full of hope and light. But at the same time, this is the lowest hanging fruit too – to write a character as indulging in verbal or physical abuse, and killing the spirit of the person at the receiver's end. You don’t have to show physical violence to discuss the pestering issues in a relationship. It’s a choice of how to show anger. With little thought, and a little perspective change, one can definitely set a standard for how to write those on an uphill journey.”