Amal Neerad’s directorial debut, Big B, despite being a trailblazing Malayalam movie for introducing a new style of filmmaking, didn’t get the audience it deserved. Today, of course, it has a cult following, a reason why its sequel Bilal, which was announced in 2017, is awaited eagerly by fans. Interestingly Amal’s debut movie also broke the rigid hierarchy that was rampant in Malayalam cinema. At a time when it was given that a new director had to work with an experienced crew, Amal brought in his own team of fresh technicians on board.
So, Big B had a new writer (Unni R), poster designer (Papaya Media), musician (Gopi Sundar), costume designer (Praveen Varma), cinematographer (Sameer Tahir), editor (Vivek Harshan) and not to forget four assistant cinematographers who later went on to carve a niche for themselves in Malayalam cinema —Shyju Khalid, Jomon T John, Satheesh Kurup and Renu (Renadive).
“Mammukka believed in me, and he believed in all these people who didn’t even have a showreel with them. And they proved that they are as good or better than an experienced crew,” said the director to this writer in an earlier interview. Fifteen years later when they reunited for Bheeshma Parvam – not only a critical and commercial success but already inching towards the Rs 100 crore club – we revisit their first collaboration.
An elderly woman is slain on the streets of Fort Kochi at midnight by some unidentified men. Turns out, she was Mary Teacher, a compassionate social worker and philanthropist who had rehabilitated a lot of orphans in the city. As people gather in hordes for her funeral, we are slowly introduced to her past and present. Amal’s Big B, co-written by Unni R and Amal, gives a terrific spin to John Singleton’s middling action drama, Four Brothers (2005).
The narrative is built in and around Fort Kochi. And it’s unthinkable to place the film anywhere else in Kerala than this melting pot of cultures. From its Portuguese and Dutch style architecture, quirky little cafes, Jew Street where everything from whole spices to silk kaftans is sold, ancient and charming synagogues and cathedrals, narrow winding streets lined with shops selling trinkets, and the constant flow of foreign tourists lend an exotic charm to the city, setting the perfect backdrop for the action thriller to unravel.
As the local CI George (Vijayaraghavan) drives the new Assistant Commissioner, Balaji (Pasupathy), to the funeral, he gives succinct details about the four brothers beginning with Eddy (Manoj K Jayan), the second brother, who runs a café. As he moves to console a young man, we are informed about the youngest of the lot, Bijou, a Gujarati who was adopted by Mary Teacher when his parents were killed in a communal riot. Murugan, a movie stunt artist and certified Romeo, is the third one. We get an inkling of the formidability of the eldest brother through a line thrown in by George to Balaji’s query as to whether he is a menace: “Well, he is definitely trouble for us.”
It’s such pithy one-liners that set the tempo to introduce Bilal, the eldest brother. It starts from the extreme long shot of his SUV speeding through the highway with a throbbing background score. Amal composes Bilal’s frame with an undiluted reverence towards the superstar actor. From the low-angle shot of his boots stomping on the soggy ground to the mid-shot of him closing the umbrella in slow motion to reveal his dripping wet face, Bilal’s introduction sequence spells unmitigated superstardom. More than anything else, it also emphasises the towering and inscrutable aura of Bilal John Kurishingal.
From the minute he walks into the frame, Bilal exudes an understated menace. And his legend is shrewdly touted by those around him and at times through Bilal’s own utterances — “Is there a street in Kochi that Eddy and Bilal can’t torpedo?”, “We vacated this scene before you were born” or “Maybe you should ask your dad about us?”
As Bijou weeps uncontrollably near Mary Teacher’s lifeless body, Bilal gently places his hand on his shoulder. That’s how far he can go when it comes to giving himself away. Bilal is designed like a man from nowhere – sphinx-like, who is gentle and ominous at the same time. From his cropped hair, heavily stubbled face, deliberate strides and a gruff baritone of measured responses, Amal meticulously builds him up. Mammootty doesn’t move his facial muscles here, just his eyes, which are dark and solemn, and yet we feel his simmering rage. Even his punches are staged to suit his personality and profession as a former bodyguard – when he hits, they stay hit. His style varies between a street fighter and a skilled martial artist.
Big B technically can be categorised as the beginning of yet another new wave in Malayalam cinema because it not just introduced a brand-new stylised action genre, but also subverted some of the tropes associated with mass heroes till then. Unni R edited out the long monologues (the norm for superstar heroes back then) and gave Bilal short, terse one-liners that hit the nail on the head. Bilal is a loner and an orphan, there is no pressure on him to belong anywhere. In fact, there is a stillness around him that is disquieting.
One can draw various conclusions about Bilal. Maybe he witnessed his parents’ murder before he was discovered by Mary Teacher, leaving him traumatised and lonely. Maybe he shut himself out of emotional involvement after that and wasn’t ever brave to fall in love. But having said that, he is a compassionate family man who will do anything for his loved ones. But he shows it differently. Like that scene in which he watches Mary Teacher’s throat being slit on camera. He doesn’t move a muscle in his face, but his rapid strides reveal his fury and pain. The frame composition and background score is brilliant there.
Eddy plays this rehabilitated antisocial who will do anything to erase his past. Today he is a churchgoer who has finally found peace with his wife and children. That’s why when Bilal says he is planning to go after their mother’s assassins, Eddy gets hassled as he clearly doesn’t want to go back to his past. Bijou, the Gujarati boy who is still scarred by his parents’ death, remains untainted. The rare instance Bilal displays any emotion is when it comes to Bijou, his baby brother. He tries in every way to protect him. When Bijou awkwardly hits someone, Bilal is tense, though he plays it down in his characteristic manner— “Why did you do that? He might get back at you in some way.” Only he knew Bijou’s love for the neighbourhood girl and yet never asked him. Murugan is the impulsive Romeo who is in awe of his elder brother.
Mary Teacher (a superbly cast Nafisa Ali) appears briefly but it doesn’t take much to understand her relationship with each of her sons. Women are mostly mentions – Eddy’s wife, Bijou and Murugan’s love interests. The makers have tried to give a spin to the old regressive and hypermasculine adage of “born to able dads”, with Eddy instead talking about the importance of having “able mothers”. Unfortunately, the taunt is directly or indirectly against women in both cases.
Sayippu Tony is the kind of antagonist who looks capable of matching wits with Bilal. Amal gives him a distinct look and personality – long auburn hair, grey eyes, muscular and cocky. At the boxing ring, not only does he flatten his opponent but also fosters a coterie of yes men who are petrified of him. He looks stoned, uses women like playthings and mercilessly knocks off opponents who are a threat. In short, he is an irredeemable villain.
The narrative blends seamlessly into Fort Kochi, capturing the free-spiritedness and ethnicity of the people. There are hints about the dark alleys as well as the old tradition-bound families of various cultures that reside in the city.
On a lighter note, Amal’s attention to detail when it comes to stylising the men in his narrative is impeccable. That’s why from Big B till Bheeshma Parvam, you find some of the most scintillatingly styled heroes in his films. If Yash Chopra showcases beautifully turned-out heroines, Amal makes his heroes more rakish and rugged, but classy and exceptional.
Amal has been anointed as the classic lover of the use of slow-motion right from Big B. Despite the sniggers that often come with it, it can be said without a doubt that no one has aced it before or after him in Malayalam (or Indian) cinema. Fifteen years later, when Amal is all set to make Bilal, the stakes are much higher.
Neelima Menon has worked in the newspaper industry for more than a decade. She has covered Hindi and Malayalam cinema for The New Indian Express and has worked briefly with Silverscreen.in. She now writes exclusively about Malayalam cinema, contributing to Fullpicture.in and thenewsminute.com. She is known for her detailed and insightful features on misogyny and the lack of representation of women in Malayalam cinema.