A group of tribal people speaks about how a road to their hamlet will ensure they can see their children, who study in the town and stay in hostels, more often. But another voice among them chips in: the road will ensure the officials also come right to our doorstep, right? This line summarises what Mansore’s subtly searing Kannada feature 19.20.21 is all about. Development at what cost? Human rights at what cost? And what kind of development is it if the original inhabitants of the land, the Adivasis, fear people who enter their forest and life and throw both asunder?
Director Mansore is a national-award-winning filmmaker who has always chosen to bat for the oppressed and those who raise their voices, in an environment that shuns open displays of support for such causes. This film is no different. He adopts a docu-drama tone for the movie, which approaches the core story from two angles: what really happened and what the officials tell us happened. The film is based on the life of journalist Vittala Malekudiya and his father Lingappa Malekudiya, who were arrested from their forest-dwelling in Kutlur in Dakshina Kannada district in March 2012. A book, Kutluru Kathana, authored by journalist Naveen Soorinje documents Vittala's story.
Manju (Shrunga), an Adivasi youth who is pursuing a degree in the city, and his father Ramanna (Mahadev Hadapad), are arrested under the UAPA (Unlawful Activities Prevention Act), without a clue as to what they are accused of. All Manju has done is get his tribe to raise their voices against the injustices meted to them — the anti-Naxal squad personnel barging into their homes and conducting searches, preventing them from living off the forest as they have for centuries, and the looming presence of uniformed personnel in their everyday lives.
Beatings and arrests are common in their life, and many leave their hamlet unable to handle the stress. Manju seems to derive his strength from his parents (MD Pallavi is lovely as Ratnamma, the quiet, strong mother who only wants her family and the forest to be safe) and raises his voice. He is labelled a Naxal/Naxal sympathiser and an elaborate backstory (reminds one of the Tamil film Writer and the terrible repercussions of a cooked-up story) is created by the officials and the police, led by the local inspector Vivek (Krishna Hebbale), whose subordinate tells him he will make a great writer of fiction once he retires. Only two people back him — television journalist Vijay and Rafi, a local communist worker.
Mansore throws the spotlight on the atrocities committed by the officials, but the film is as much about how the system wears one down. At one stage, all Manju wants is to go somewhere where he is allowed a night’s sleep — even if that place is a prison, resulting from judicial custody. Shrunga’s face is not smile-friendly for the most part, but how can Manju ever smile when his life is a series of struggles? The rare moments he smiles — when the handcuffs are removed before his exam and when he announces he has done well in the exams — feel like your personal triumph too.
The film could have taken another route, but it chooses to stick to the rule book when it comes to the arguments — the constitution is sacrosanct, and who better than Balaji Manohar as advocate Suresh Hegde to din that fact into us, in his very pleasant voice. His closing arguments in the case are a lesson for everyone who screams ‘anti-national’ and ‘traitor’ at anyone who questions authority. Articles 19, 20, and 21 of the Indian Constitution give citizens the right to freedom, expression, and protection in respect of conviction for offences. They state that no one shall be deprived of his life or personal liberty except according to the procedure established by law.
But what happens to Manju till then? Years roll by, and he finishes his post-graduation in Journalism, struggles to find a job, finds a job, and makes the routine trip from Bengaluru to the southern tip of the state to attend court hearings — all this with the tag of ‘Naxal’ attached to his name. We realise how much life has changed even before a note mentions the year — from seeing faces, we suddenly see masks. COVID-19 has come and possibly waned, but Manju’s life hangs in the balance.
But ultimately, 19.20.21 is also about hope — that truth will prevail, and that cooked-up stories might unravel in court. What I loved most is that Mansore does not absolve anyone of their crimes, just because they are older. Vivek is a retired man who travels to listen to the judgment with his granddaughter. He is no longer the middle-aged inspector who thought nothing before ruining a youth’s life. But, the film does not want you to feel for him. You feel his guilt, but he does not apologise. He does not deserve forgiveness, you see. The anti-Naxal squad official and a cop look struck when confronted with the truth of what they did.
The cinematography by Shiva BK Kumar allows you to see the vastness of the land the tribals inhabit and the smallness of the lives they are reduced to live, with equal felicity. The background score is by Ronada Bakkesh and Mansore’s regular collaborator Bindumalini has handled the music. Editor Suresh Armugam has kept things taut even while allowing some moments to breathe. The dialogues by Veerendra Mallanna and Avinash G are an important addition to the discourse on freedom of speech.
This is an important film for Kannada, for it speaks truth to power. With every passing film, Mansore is building a body of work that is representative of the times we live in. He is both the insider and the outlier.
Subha J Rao is an entertainment journalist covering Tamil and Kannada cinema and is based out of Mangaluru, Karnataka.
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.