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Nooru Sami (Tamil)
Life in the hinterland can be brutal. Identities are distinctly carved out between the haves and the have-nots — the “have” here can refer to material wealth or social standing. In director Sasi’s Nooru Sami (A Hundred Gods), Selvi (a fabulous Swasika) is a young widow with two sons, struggling to raise them in a society that is judgmental and not very kind.
Sasi is known for his deft portrayal of village life and its people, and Nooru Sami, based on a real-life story, benefits from his vision. It is filled with little nuggets, some pleasant, most not, which drive home the torment in Selvi’s heart.
She has to keep her forehead bare at home and wear a bindi at the travel agent’s office (there’s art even in how she sticks them beneath the office desk), wear clothes that ensure she merges into the background, hide behind a door when she sees a happy procession in the street, and silently swallow the insults, slurs, dirty looks, and speeches of men who cannot let a woman live in peace.
At a house where she works, she walks into a room where a couple is making out and runs, her face a mixture of embarrassment and yearning — something screen mothers are not usually allowed to feel. So, is Selvi just a mother? Or is she a living, breathing person too, with her own share of desires and needs?
The only thing that hears her is the fan that whirs at a constant speed, the constant companion she speaks to.
What keeps her going are her two sons, Bhaskar and Vivek. There’s a lovely shot of her tearfully turning back after sending them to boarding school, and embracing them with desperation when they get out of the bus. Years later, this scene repeats in the reverse.
Sasi is an old soul, and his writing (along with Mohan Rajan) and visualisation sparkle with a gaze that is tender and a pace that shuns speed. A mother breaking a coconut and pouring the water directly into her boys’ mouths, a pathway lined with trees where the branches sway with zero urgency — all of this is beautifully captured by cinematographer Darshan Kirlosh.
Sasi invests his women with agency too. Selvi, at one point, does request her in-laws and parents to chip in with raising her children, but when they don’t, she relies solely on her self-respect. Another woman, who is part of a religious procession, shuts down every doubting male voice and insists she heard a woman scream, and that they must go search. She becomes a vital cog in Selvi’s life.
The backstories fit in beautifully too. Later in the film, during a conversation, Selvi is familiar with the rial, and with Oman being the capital of Muscat. This ties in beautifully with her travel agent days.
Where the film falters is in the urban portions, and in the light-hearted force-fitted scenes involving a YouTuber family. But I understand that when you write a film headlined by a 40-plus woman, you need to also cater to the crowds.
Early on, Selvi’s eldest one reacts violently when she evinces interest in marrying again. He is too young to understand that his amma is also a person. When he does, he is consumed by the guilt of the past, seeks counsel from his favourite nun at college (Lijo Mol Jose), and works at phenomenal speed to bring his idea to fruition.
This reminded me of Keladi Kanmani, and Baby Anju’s early reaction when her father brings home someone he likes. But this sudden urge for speed does not fit in well with the rest of the movie, which editor Harish Yuvaraj allows to breathe.
Interestingly, Sasi writes Selvi’s relationship with her two boys differently — the elder one’s relationship is more formal, while the younger one calls her by name and shares everything with her. This is a pleasant departure from the usual “one size fits all” writing of children and mothers.
Nooru Sami also has a caste angle to it — and it is pertinent that Balaji Sakthivel, who made the seminal Kaadhal, stars as a custodian of patriarchy, misogyny, and all things wrong with society. It also shows that the idea of “protecting honour” does not see any age — for them, every woman must be crushed, every one of them must be prevented from thinking or speaking her mind.
Composer-actor Vijay Antony has backed this film, and also appears well into the second half as Ezhumalai, a pleasant, philosopher-like widower whose married daughter is looking for someone to marry her father. He is dignity personified.
Sasi makes middle-aged love look beautiful. At that age, it is the little things that matter — a man wanting his spouse to not suffer in the kitchen, a man acknowledging her children as his own, a beam blooming from within when her son calls him appa, a man who lets Selvi know he will not see her as a house help, and also a man who thinks nothing of walking with two ice candies as Selvi struggles to walk with his bike.
After all, Ezhumalai and Selvi share past grief, and this quest for companionship falls in place well, to the strains of Balaji Sriram’s music.
Cut to the future, and what warms your heart is four people sitting on the floor, waiting for the other to eat. Finally, the team of three grows to admit a fourth. And Selvi finally gets to dress up.
Everyone can argue this is a flight of fancy, that no brother would behave thus or that no woman of this age would want to remarry. But when people step out, breaking one stereotype after the other, what remains is a film with its heart and intent in the right place. Much needed in today’s world, where everything has changed, but nothing has.
It helps that the performances are fabulous, led by Swasika. She inhabits the world on screen like she was born there. I wish directors use her only in roles that deserve her. She’s been trained for the role by ace theatre actor Kalairaani, and it shows in how she transforms into Selvi, who could rarely find reason to smile, but still manages to.
That scene before the wedding day, as she serves her sons potato curry, is one for the ages. And so, when she wins, there’s a collective sigh of relief, like we have won too.
Go watch! For a lot of reasons, but also for Sasi’s belief in his audience over the years.
Subha J Rao is an entertainment journalist covering Tamil and Kannada cinema and is based out of Mangaluru, Karnataka.
Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.
