Makal, to jump straight to the point, is the kind of film you can take home and relax with, curled up in bed on a lazy afternoon. It is not going to disturb you, shock you or throw you off your bed (I realise there are people who actually prefer this, fans of the horror genre). Makal is calm and soothing and almost like a lullaby. It is textbook-sweet but without any cheesiness to gross you out.
Sathyan Anthikad, Makal’s director and a veteran of Malayalam cinema, made Achunte Amma 17 years ago, giving you the heartwarming tale of a mother and daughter. Makal is in some ways a grand extension of that, allowing the changes that time has brought to the ways of life, and still being a dear film. Devika Sanjay plays the makal – the daughter – in the film to Meera Jasmine and Jayaram. Mother and daughter live a carefree life, treating each other like friends (much like Urvashi and Meera Jasmine did in Achunte Amma), while the father works as a mechanic in Dubai.
When the father announces he is coming back for good, the teenage daughter’s first reaction is: oh, no. There is no backstory to this. It is simply the natural reaction of a young girl, used to the carefree ways of life around school and friends and an understanding mother, wondering if the presence of a father will wreck all of it. Aparna – Appu to her family – is a wonderful change from the stereotype of film teenagers, shown as just a regular teen with the regular tantrums of adolescence, but mostly sweet otherwise. She doesn’t break into song and dance, squeal at the sight of rain or try to act like a five-year-old. Devika gives beautiful expressions to Appu; when she breaks down to her mother she makes you want to reach out to her. Subtlety really is an attractive quality in an actor.
Watch: Trailer of Makal
Meera Jasmine who once played the daughter quite easily turns into the mother – a young and pretty mother, letting her eyes show her love for the daughter or the hurt from the insults thrown at by her family. Julie (her character) and Nandan (Jayaram) had eloped many years ago, and her rich siblings, who appear to have reluctantly accepted the marriage, still show their scorn in little ways. Siddique, Meera Nair and a few others form Julie’s family, a reliable cast that Sathyan Anthikad banks on. On Nandan’s side is the ever-funny Innocent playing a doctor dad and Latha, a newcomer performing admirably well as the mother. The casting is great, a mix of old and new actors, all doing their jobs very comfortably.
Jayaram was last seen in a Sathyan Anthikad film in Katha Thudaram, which too had a mother and a little daughter at its centre. The role of the concerned dad is tailor-made for Jayaram, but the actor too has obviously undergone seasons of change. He doesn’t attempt to be funny the Jayaram way, but convincingly becomes the disconnected parent, finding it difficult to understand a daughter he had stayed away from for so many years.
There is also Naslen, who is now a favourite pick of directors from the younger lot. He has proven he has a certain knack for comedy and in Makal, a film sticking to old-school storytelling, he comes across as the harmless chap in love with the girl, wooing her becoming his life’s priority, and with a skill for messing things up.
Except for an unexpected little intervention into the general setup of the happy family, everything about Makal is smooth sailing (edited neatly by K Rajagopal). Even when the dad and daughter are at odds with each other, you don’t fret because these are everyday events, rather relatable if you have had a similar relationship with your parent or child. The only flaws in the script – by Iqbal Kuttipuram – are the occasional attempts at clichéd humour, accompanied by a jarring piece of music. The music otherwise – especially the title music – by Vishnu Vijay is soothing.
Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the series/film. TNM Editorial is independent of any business relationship the organisation may have with producers or any other members of its cast or crew.