Annakili came as a shot in the dark for critics and audiences, a rare ray of warm light in the wintry Tamil cinematic universe, when released in 1976. Tamilians everywhere were proud of a movie that was, for once, firmly rooted in reality. The story of Annakili (actress Sujatha) and her immortal (as it turns out) love for Thiagarajan (an up-and-coming Sivakumar), a local school teacher, captured the imagination of both art-house film lovers and entertainment junkies.
The biggest asset of the film, apart from Ilaiyaraaja's paradigm-shifting music, was that it was fully shot outdoors, probably the first Tamil feature to do so. The village of Thengumarahada with its rich natural splendour (then in Coimbatore district and now in Nilgiris district) served as the fictional town of Solaiyar, where the film is set. The advancement of technology also, no doubt, helped the crew shoot outdoors.
The story, with its sharp plot twists, revolves around Annakili and her love that transgresses tradition. Made during the first wave of feminism in Tamil cinema heralded by directors Bharathiraaja, K Balachander, Balu Mahendra and Mahendran, Annakili came as a powerful crash course in gender equality.
When the film begins, Annam is carefree, loves the movies, and is a gifted and sought-after midwife. She lives off the land and eats freshly-caught burnt fish. She takes care of herself and knows that she can. Thiagarajan envies her freedom and expresses this many times during the course of the film.
Panchu Arunachalam adapts an original story by the famous R Selvaraj for the screen. The film is masterfully directed by Devaraj-Mohan and is arguably the finest effort from the duo. They paint a picture of a town and its characters as if they know its inner workings and secrets. A Somasundaram’s exquisite black-and-white cinematography is another pillar of strength. For example, he set some of the scenes against light, unusual for the time.
At first sight, Annakili (running time: 129 mins) is a simple love story set in a simple village. But as love stories go, it is incredibly complicated. When Sivakumar dumps Annam and gets into a marriage of convenience, we are only past the first hour of the movie, with one more to go.
Annam’s crashing dreams -- her crumbling world and the wretchedness of people around her, ending in the spectacular burning of the village theatre screening a movie on Kannagi -- a heavy metaphor -- create a gripping journey and a fascinating watch.
Thiagarajan is absent in large portions of the movie. The first time he borrows a ‘princely’ sum of Rs 1,000 from Annakili and ends up losing it in a job scam in a nearby town (a reference to the widespread unemployment in the late 1970s). Annam first lends him 25 paisa for use at the post office and doesn’t distinguish between the large difference in the two amounts.
The second time he is married and is away from the village for about five years. As the title indicates, this whole time, the story is told from Annakili’s point-of-view, another marked departure from the usual narrative norms in Tamil cinema. The hero may be absent, but heroine never lets you feel that. All through the film, she is the constant. The story begins and ends with her.
Love stories may be old as cinema itself, but in Annakili it wrecks all sorts of havoc. For Annam, her kadhal (love) is a prerequisite to a relationship, a right she has claimed as her own. It’s her stubbornness, naivety and courage (perhaps with a touch of foolishness) that guide the course of the movie.
Srikanth plays Annakili’s relative (machan) who is ready to marry her until his tragic death (a precursor to Annakili’s end), but it is Annam’s love for Thiagarajan that stands in the way. Annam has a mind of her own (especially in the matters of the heart) and she is never scared to give a piece of it to anyone. Annam’s insistence that she has the beauty and the brains to go after a guy of her choice pretty much lays down the crisis of the film. Annakili is a woman of the land as she points out, between sobs, to a married Thiagarajan.
Sujatha won a Filmfare award for her role as Annakili. It is a meticulous performance from the actress, who knows that her voice modulation and facial expressions convey as much her body language. Her performance may have even been an inspiration for Radha, who makes a similar turn in Mudhal Mariyathai, and maybe many others.
Ilaiyaraaja's music is nothing like anything MS Viswanathan did before him. The harmonics, the beats and the lyricism are all radically different. Arunachalam, Kannadasan’s protege, matches this step for step. “Annakili Unnai Theduthe (Annakili is searching for you)” and “Machana Pathingala (Have you seen my man?)” have lost none of their shine even today.
The Isaignani’s songs for the movie are much written about and there is nothing one can add to the growing literature on his stellar debut. But Raja also shows why he is so great at creating exceptionally good background scores. Just like the folksy tunes, it is the background score that makes Annakili a really great watch.
The dialogue in the film is refreshing and Arunachalam’s minute attention to the dynamics of conversations is novel for Tamil cinema.
The characters of Annam and Thiagarajan are a study in contrast. Thiagarajan has a family including an older, unmarried sister. The late actress SN Lakshmi plays Thiagarajan’s mother. Annam is not burdened by a family, but has no one to take care of her. Her brother-in-law is dependent on alcohol and she is one supporting her sister’s family. Thiagarajan, fondly called “Vathiyar Ayya” (respected teacher), is a degree holder; Annam is uneducated.
Annam and Thiagarajan meet when she defends a boy who is being punished at the Solaiyur panchayat primary school for arriving late to class. Their relationship continues riverside when Thiagarajan falls off a swing and Annam teaches him to use it after nursing his wounds. Later, she makes fish for him and becomes Thiagarajan’s confidante.
Their love affair blossoms and going by the musical cue it is Thiagarajan who feels it first. Strangely enough, all through months of their relationship neither the respected teacher nor the village midwife verbalise their love for one another. It seems that they are not destined to marry, and even though Thiagarajan promises to talk about it, the couple never do. It is as if once verbalised, the couple feels, their love will be jinxed. Also, the teacher and midwife are from different castes and social strata and fear right from the start that they may not be able to marry.
In some scenes, Thiagarajan is pitifully emasculated and borderline annoying, especially in the way Sivakumar plays the character. There is more than one scene where Thiagarajan comes across as vulnerable, one of which is when the bold Annam drags him into the river and teaches him how to swim. Raja’s score for this sequence is just a taste for the many, many BGMs to come.
Thengai Srinivasan plays a leeching rich minor, who owns the local theatre and preys on unsuspecting women. Venniradai Murthy brings his own brand of humour to his portrayal of the minor’s right-hand man.
A cockfight (Aadukalam minus special effects) between Annam’s brother-in-law and machan has devastating consequences for all characters. The machan wins the fight and Annam’s hand along with it, but the issue is settled at the panchayat, with Annam declaring that she won’t marry someone she doesn’t love. But the web of deceit around Annam is spun even tighter after this sequence.
It’s clear that Andal Nachiyaar and Kannagi are heroes of the filmmakers. At an Andal temple in Thiruvilliputhur in Nagapattinam district, the parrot (kili in Tamil) in the left hand of the deity is regularly, painstakingly recreated to this day. The metaphor connecting this to the movie is hidden in plain sight.
After Thiagarajan marries the landlord’s daughter (and Annam’s bestie), the problems in his household are resolved -- but Annam’s love remains unrequited. Many may find the deliberate pace of the movie a hassle. But if you can get past it, this film is a rewarding, riveting watch.