*Spoilers ahead
In Sandeep Reddy Vanga's Telugu film Arjun Reddy, later remade in Tamil and Hindi, the hero, presented to us as the embodiment of masculinity, cannot comprehend why anyone would 'plan' a pregnancy. When his brother tells him about planning for a baby in two years, Arjun Reddy scoffs at him and says, "Is this something you should plan? It should happen in the flow."
At the end of the film, Arjun finds that his former girlfriend Preethi is pregnant with their unplanned baby, and the couple reunite in their toxic relationship about which reams have been written already. But this article isn't about Arjun Reddy. It's about what happens when a "pregnancy happens in the flow" and the woman is clearly not ready for it.
Because that isn't a premise that our films, fond of glorifying motherhood and demonising abortion, visit often.
In Don Palathara's Santhoshathinte Onnam Rahasyam, a couple is making a journey in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic. Literally. Jithin (Jitin Puthenchery) is a small-time actor who is driving his journalist girlfriend Maria (Rima Kallingal) to the doctor's. Maria's period has been delayed by five weeks and she's worried that she may be pregnant. The static camera captures the 85-minute journey in a single take, and at first glance, Jithin comes off as a reasonable man with a 'high maintenance' girlfriend. No matter what he says, she finds fault with him. He is calm for the most part but she won't let him be. But as the conversation progresses, you realise why Maria is so annoyed. It is precisely because Jithin is calm — about a situation that is potentially life-changing for her.
With his sleepy face and casual demeanour, it is obvious that Jithin doesn't think there's a point in considering the what-ifs since they don't know for sure if Maria is pregnant or not yet. He mumbles the right sounding things — he will get a proper job, he will marry Maria and so on — but it's only because Maria keeps provoking him to answer. He's able to chat with a friend on WhatsApp, let his mind wander but Maria cannot. She's trapped in her body and, we're told, it was Jithin's idea to have sex without contraception.
"It's not like you didn't consent to it!" he blurts out when Maria flings it at him. And that is true. Looking at the dynamic of the relationship, it is clear that Maria is no push-over. She speaks her mind with Jithin, but what seems to be bothering her is his "go with the flow" attitude. He's "okay" with marrying Maria, he's "okay" with becoming a father, he's "okay" with aborting the baby...he's "okay" with just about everything and to Maria, that is just not okay. It is her body that has to go through either a pregnancy or abortion, as she points out, and his detached philosophical attitude only gets under her skin.
While she wants his honest opinions, Jithin gives her what he thinks she wants to hear — progressive lines on women's agency over their bodies, his willingness to become a responsible adult etc. It is a kind of evasiveness that is difficult to counter, and Maria struggles to rein in her temper.
The conversation is hilarious and unsettling in equal parts. Jithin and Rima mouth their lines realistically, sometimes stumbling over the words, speaking over each other like in a normal conversation. At one point, their argument even turns violent briefly. The resentful silence that follows, one partner's tentative attempt to test waters, all of it looks organic and unscripted. It can't have been easy, carrying an entire film through this way. But both actors do a beautiful job — from their body language to the exasperation written all over their face.
Funnily, despite the problems they have in their own relationship, Maria and Jithin also counsel their respective friends on relationship issues. There, they are reasonable, logical people who offer rational advice. With each other though, their insecurities come to the fore. For instance, the inquisitive 'chechi' (Neeraja Rajendran) who gets into their car asks how they manage their expenses when Jithin doesn't have a job. The 'progressive' Jithin doesn't admit that it's Maria who brings home the bread. He says they don't have that many expenses. Maria, who earlier questions the institution of marriage, is annoyed with him when he tells the 'chechi' that they're not married.
We also see the camaraderie they share in flashes; the eyeroll that couples exchange when they witness something they both find ridiculous. Like the telephone interview that Maria does in the car with a film director (Don Palathara). From the angry, high strung Maria, Rima switches to a professional, all smiles as she shoots her questions to the uppity director (you can't call his film a 'movie', it is 'cinema', he tells her). It's not just an amusing cameo, it also points to women's ability to multitask, keeping the balls in the air even in the middle of a personal crisis. In contrast, Jithin has to be pushed to take a bath, let alone hold a job.
We don't see the outside world at all but even within the confines of the car, there is context. This is a world where a male director who's making a 'woman-centric film' is dismissive of feminists; it's a world where men with 'revolutionary' ideas casually exchange pictures and videos that objectify women and they don't break the bro code to question the practice; it's a world where 24 is considered too old for a woman to marry; it's a world where, Maria knows, an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy can not just disrupt her life but alter its course entirely.
The ending, therefore, is 'good news' for Maria (and Jithin), though it's not the 'good news' that society wishes upon every woman. The relief she feels puts the relationship on track again; they've weathered this storm, for now, but you suspect there will be many more.
The film premiered at the International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK).