In debutant director Indu Lakshmi’s Nila, it is through sheer serendipity that the film’s protagonist Malathy (Shanthi Krishna) stumbles upon Nila, a young woman with a mellifluous voice and a distinct Kannur slang, who lives next door to her in a high-rise apartment. For the septuagenarian who has been confined to her bed due to an accident that broke her spine, Nila comes as a balm for her loneliness, someone she can talk to and share her day with. As she sings to her from the adjacent balcony, Malathy sighs with a smile while lying on her bed, immersing herself in her younger friend’s soothing voice and nodding along in contentment. It is a heartwarming friendship, with only one problem. Malathy is not entirely sure if Nila exists, or if she is just a voice in her head.
Ever since the accident back in her house, the world has gradually been convincing Malathy that she cannot trust her mind anymore. A doctor herself, she knows this is not without truth, having seen a scan that suggests altered functions in her brain. Her newly-developed blank stares and her son Mahi (Vineeth)’s hints that she might be “imagining things” have not helped. Neither has her home nurse Mini’s aloofness towards her questions, nor Nila’s tendency to avoid the topic whenever Malathy asks her to come over to her flat. But slowly, as she learns of Nila’s life and realises that she may be in danger, Malathy has to make a decision. How far are you willing to go for a person, who might just be a figment of your imagination?
It is no mean task, playing a character well over a decade older than you. But Shanthi Krishna carries the role of the illustrious Dr Malathy with a deeply impressive conviction, embodying the innate stubbornness and nostalgia of a 70-something-year-old with ease. Her urban twang while speaking Malayalam initially sticks out, looking as she is, like the stereotypical elderly woman wearing mundum neriyathum and bound to rural Kerala. But as we dive into her life as a pioneering woman doctor with a seemingly privileged upbringing, the decision to retain the slang begins to make sense.
Vineeth’s role as the son who is torn between his responsibilities and taking care of his mother is deeply reminiscent of his character in Akhil Sathyan’s Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum, most likely due to the recency factor. But the distinct charm and affection he lends to Mahi, as opposed to Riyas’s cold and elitist demeanour in Pachu, are enough to render the two roles starkly different from one another. Nila herself is another standout character, but I'd rather refrain from talking about her to avoid venturing into spoiler territory.
Then, of course, there is the beloved Mamukkoya, playing Malathy’s trusty helper Rahman with a charismatic and grounded performance. Underutilised as he is in the film, the few scenes he appears in are still a treat to watch, especially when you remember this is one of the last times you get to watch him on the big screen.
Mamukkoya and Vineeth in Nila. Courtesy: Indu Lakshmi
Nila’s script, written by the director herself, is refreshingly original and unpretentious, acting as an ode to a woman’s tenacity even as age catches up to her. In an earlier interview with TNM, Indu spoke about listening to one of the last interviews of the late poet and activist Sugathakumari, and sensing in her voice a fire and a passion that refused to fade. This fire is reflected in Nila’s Malathy, whose love for her profession and the world itself continues to blaze in her heart even in her twilight years.
The film, however, slightly disappoints by failing to explore some of its supporting characters, despite being able to spark intrigue with their complicated inner lives. Malathy’s nurse Mini, for instance, with her studied indifference towards the elderly woman and what seems like grief or longing for her son, is a compelling character that deserved a bit more screen time. The film also briefly touches upon darker subjects such as domestic violence, but isn’t successful in giving them more weightage than that of a plot device.
Towards its climax, however, Nila surprises by making a stark tonal shift, elevating the drama quotient and taking a sharp turn from its so far grounded tenor. Bijibal’s ‘Nila Nadhi’ song amps up the mood quite a bit, which suddenly seems to border that of an uplifting thriller. The subsequent plot twist also lends the hitherto indie-toned film a commercial quality, while simultaneously helping end it on a thought-provoking note. Indu’s directorial debut is not without its flaws, but is worth a watch for the passion that has clearly gone into its making and much more.
Nila was chosen for funding by the Kerala State Film Development Corporation (KSFDC) as part of a Kerala government project to produce films made by women.
Watch the trailer of 'Nila' here:
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.