Nick Lyskawa
In contemporary Tamil cinema, there has been a rise of anti-caste narratives decrying the oppressive system. A key member of this movement has been Pa. Ranjith, with his 2018 film Kaala having been praised for its subversive treatment of caste and gender norms. On the surface, Kaala is an inspirational call to action against the caste system. But, when analysing the film’s depiction of societal change in relation to gender and aesthetics, its thematic weaknesses are unveiled.
Meanwhile, the 2015 film Masaan, following three characters in their struggle to survive within the caste system, utilises a grounded aesthetic that prioritises equal perspectives and representation of both genders to deliver a nuanced anti-caste message. When comparing Masaan and Kaala, the latter’s interpretation of societal change is thus revealed to be grounded in masculinity via its coded aesthetics. In contrast, Masaan’s aesthetics are decidedly neutral, favouring the struggles of those impacted by the system instead of a masculine hero delivering change, which results in a successful universalist anti-caste message.
To understand how the aesthetic differences in both films affect their anti-caste themes, it is critical to compare scenes that serve similar narrative functions, such as the opening. Beginning with Masaan, the film opens with protagonist Devi Pathak expressing her sexual desires by watching porn. The scene is transgressive in nature, as these desires are not often depicted in Indian cinema, especially with the grounded normality developed by the film’s simple presentation. Meaning, Masaan immediately places emphasis on subversive and realistic depictions of its many characters. The film then follows Devi as she navigates the city to meet her student, Piyush. The montage consists of a variety of shots displaying the city and Devi’s navigation of it, which is the first example of Masaan’s neutral aesthetics assisting in the development of its universalist anti-caste message. In these shots, Devi is captured in static or slow-moving medium-wides, often with out of focus citizens and other aspects of city life interrupting the frame. In other words, Devi is not highlighted by the film’s aesthetics as being more or less important than any other citizen. Instead, Devi’s insertion into the city void of aesthetic identifiers projects her story onto every individual, thereby cementing the universalist message that Devi’s suffering is anything but unique.
The scene continues when Devi meets Piyush in the hotel lobby. Here, the two are captured in wide, positioned next to each other in similar lighting. That is to say, there are no aesthetic differences between the two characters. By capturing both in the same frame and presenting no aesthetic differences when the male is introduced, the film establishes a precedent of equality, a promise to the audience that the film prioritises both genders’ perspectives. From then on, the two are rarely shot individually, maintaining equal coverage of both genders’ experiences. Suddenly, the police intrude on their room, interrupting the couple’s static close-up with a jarring shift to handheld. From here, the scene plays out exclusively in handheld mediums as Devi and Piyush struggle against the policemen, who use a recording of Devi as blackmail for moving outside her position in a society defined by caste and gender. Piyush also anticipates punishment, eventually retreating to the bathroom to slit his wrists and die by suicide. Again, by capturing both characters’ suffering with similar aesthetic choices, Masaan continues its standard of equality met by the rest of the film. No gender will be treated differently than another, no caste level will be differentiated through aesthetics, and no story will be unequally favoured. If they were, the film’s nuanced, universalist message would be for nought.
Meanwhile, Kaala indulges in masculine-coded aesthetics that, when paired with narrative analysis, proves the film’s priority of presenting Kaala as the masculine heroic saviour over developing a well-rounded anti-caste message. After a brief opener of a reporter being attacked by policemen, the film cuts to the central conflict: the fight for the city of Dharavi. Here, captured in wide, we see Kaala’s son, Lenin, and his girlfriend, Puyal, leading an activist strike against the corrupt government official Hari Dhadha and his officer Vishnu, who plans to construct new buildings where the Tamil natives live. However, what is notable here, and for the rest of the conflicts in this film, is that little comes from this strike. In fact, it takes Kaala, the masculine leader of Dharavi, to motivate any and all productive change. Kaala’s activism is then captured with a level of excessive grittiness that one cannot help but associate the film’s hyper-stylised aesthetic choices with high-octane masculinity.
For example, Kaala is introduced when an activist, Beemji, rushes in, pleading for him to save the activists. Outside of aesthetic signifiers, the act of Beemji begging Kaala for help already positions him differently than Devi in Masaan. Here, Kaala is the opposite of the every woman that, makes Devi relatable and Masaan thematically rich. Rather, Kaala is introduced as integral to the community and its chances at victory, thereby centring him as the film’s focus. We then cut to Kaala being driven through the Dharavi streets with dozens of citizens watching, cementing Kaala as the story’s focus. This sequence utilises the aesthetic choices that then become associated with Kaala’s masculinity and, by extension, societal change: the use of slow motion and Kaala’s leitmotif. Slow-motion adds to the mythic reputation of Kaala as an influential figure in the community, presenting his fight for justice as a sensationalist spectacle. Kaala’s leitmotif is also dominated by raw guitar riffs and booming drums, and when paired with slow-motion, creates an aesthetic of visual excess coded in masculinity where the hero and his actions are the focus of the film. Upon arrival, Kaala is challenged by his son, Lenin, who finds Kaala’s aggressively-direct activism violent and barbaric, two traits often associated with masculinity. At the same time, Kaala’s other son, Selvam, attacks the police, portrayed using the aesthetic choices previously mentioned. However, the leitmotif halts, and the slow-motion end when Vishnu interrupts. He makes his case to Kaala, as even the antagonist cannot ignore the masculine might Kaala imposes, a might that promises social change that other forms of activism, such as Lenin’s activist protests, cannot. As the scene continues, the audience is treated to only more examples of the film favouring Kaala and his spectacular activism over anyone else. Any time Kaala speaks, the leitmotif booms. Vishnu beats his own men when they disrespect Kaala. Despite Puyal’s efforts to attack, Kaala’s own nonchalant violence forces Vishnu to retreat, which is, of course, captured in slow-motion.
From this analysis of the films’ openings, it is clear how Masaan and Kaala frame their characters differently. By utilising aesthetics associated with masculinity near-exclusively with Kaala during moments of societal development, he is differentiated from the rest of the population as the hero and sole arbiter of change. Meaning, the film’s masculine-coded aesthetic choices result in a flawed anti-caste message that states that change occurs through the individual male hero rather than a diverse community of activists.
However, it would be a disservice to Kaala to not acknowledge its subversive elements. The film includes a cast of female characters with agency, including Puyal, who had the aforementioned significant moment in the opening where she proclaims her undying fight for justice in the face of her oppressors. Captured in a close-up, this is only one example of Kaala’s positive intentions of making a diverse film with active female characters. However, these hopes are rendered mute when analysing the rest of the film’s narrative, which continues to foreground Kaala as the hero and position positive social change exclusively in the hands of the masculine leader.
While it is true that the film implements female characters with a sense of agency, there are significant caveats to their on-screen representation. Kaala’s wife, Selvi, is often regarded as a subversive depiction of a female with an agency. However, her role in the narrative is to ultimately act as comedic relief and character development for Kaala. During the film, Kaala meets with his ex-lover, Zareena. Selvi’s displeasure of Kaala disregarding his current wife for a past love is then treated as a joke at three separate points, including her own death scene. The so-called “active female” is treated with casual sexism whenever Kaala pushes her to accept his philandering until her death, which motivates Kaala to continue his masculine heroics.
Similarly, Puyal’s agency is mitigated when her activism is met with halting violence, only to have Kaala step in and save the day. Having already noted this contradictory display of agency in the opening scene, a nearly identical situation unfolds in the climactic final fight. Meaning, two out of two times, this “active female” is foregrounded by the film for fighting back, so she fails and must be saved by Kaala, the embodiment of masculine, violent activism. Similarly, Zareena, who is now a member of an NGO trying to save Dharavi via peaceful political action in line with Lenin’s beliefs, rarely succeeds. There are multiple points in the film where Zareena attempts activism only to fail, with the most notable taking place near the 40-minute mark. During a showcase of the projects Lenin and Zareena hope to pursue, the Dharavi population splits, with some opposing the project and others in favour. What results is Lenin’s banishment, which moves beyond the framework of positioning females as active yet unsuccessful participants in a war dominated by masculinity and toward an absolutist narrative philosophy that continues to hinder the film’s subversive nature: the fact that Kaala is always correct.
In the opening scene, Lenin and Kaala are placed on opposing sides of the activist fight: Lenin believes in non-violent activism, while Kaala believes in masculine-coded violence. The film treats Lenin’s political beliefs as flawed, inherently weaker than Kaala’s actions by having Lenin and Zareena continually fail in their efforts, only for Kaala to succeed in the climactic fight dominated by explosions, slow-motion, and Kaala’s leitmotif. This sends a message to the viewer that the only means of change is by either implementing masculine-coded violent political action or being led by a masculine hero willing to do so. Similarly, when Lenin is banished, he is seen crying, associating the non-violent political acts with femininity and making it seem like a faulty act. This theming is cemented in the final moments of the film, where even after his supposed death, Kaala is seen in the crowds of the Dharavi people overthrowing Dhadha, proving that Kaala is necessary and responsible for any and all positive change. In narrative and visuals, Kaala prioritises Kaala’s masculine hero status over developing a well-rounded critique of the caste system. This is where the institutional and filmic converge, as utilising Rajinkanth’s fame to raise awareness of such a prevalent issue is respectable. However, the superstar machismo ultimately dominates the narrative, creating an anti-caste story that prioritises spectacular shots of extraordinary change led by the masculine hero over the plights of the everyday people
On the other hand, this is where Masaan thrives. After Devi’s life is thrown into caste-induced turmoil, the film cuts between various perspectives: one from a lower-caste male named Deepak, and the other from Devi’s retired Sanskrit-teaching father, Vidyahar. Notably, Vidyahar and Devi belong to a higher caste than Deepak, a narrative element made unclear by aesthetics alone. Again, the film treats any and all characters with similar aesthetic choices, thereby providing a neutral glimpse into their lives and the struggles they face at the hands of the caste system. Vidyahar and Deepak both face intense oppression for their places in society, and by implementing these perspectives alongside Devi, the film successfully acknowledges various levels of suffering that everyday citizens encounter.
Similarly, all three characters face their predicaments with agency, including Devi. Clearly, this is a subversive depiction of both females and lower castes, but could be argued against by the inclusion of Deepak’s girlfriend, Shaalu. While at first glance, it seems like Deepak’s girlfriend is used for character development in a way reminiscent of Kaala’s treatment of Selvi, Devi’s nuanced perspective negates this by proving the film is not favouring one gender’s perspective over another’s. The film’s universalist sentiment that anyone can suffer from the caste system is cemented by the concluding scene, where, after a montage of the character’s progression through their hardships, Devi and Deepak meet for the first time as they sail away from their home. In other words, Masaan ends by giving two characters, both of different genders and caste levels, a means of escape. As their boat drifts into the vast horizon captured in wide, the film employs a similar technique to its opening scene. By placing the characters in a space where they are united, made to appear normal, their stories are projected onto everyone, thereby telling the audience that anyone can suffer and enact personal change under the caste system, unlike Kaala.
Implementing masculine-coded aesthetics with a narrative prioritising the hero’s actions inherently works against a universal anti-caste message. While Kaala attempts to claim the power of the community, the film ends up advocating for the opposite. On the other hand, Masaan implements aesthetic choices that ground its characters into a world where they are not extraordinary, providing a nuanced critique of the caste system that Kaala fails to execute.
