'Kaadhal: The Core' - I have questions.
I was left with so many questions by the end of this film. I've been told this is always a good thing. And I agree. I'd much rather have questions than be bored to tears (Quentin, here's looking at you.)
'Kaadhal' is respectful of the context within which it is set - Malayali middle-class society. It makes no loud claims of the freedom to love. It shows you the bits and pieces that lovers must hold sacred or discard entirely, because society is where we come from and within which we must fit our everyday lives. As a film about a privately gay man whose wife of twenty years files for a divorce, it had to be cautious if it wanted to be taken seriously. And I respect that, because it has achieved what it set out to do: get people on its side. Reactions to the film have been largely positive, and that can only mean good things for the LGBTQ community's future in Malayali society. And for film makers to be able to tell us different stories.
I have been told that there was a similar kind of film made years ago about a secretly lesbian couple. This was also set in Malayali society, and I will return here with the name once I've unearthed it. But by and large, I think we can agree that as a conversation starter, 'Kaadhal' has done its job admirably. Much has been written about its beautiful visuals, sensitive score, and the exceptional performance of Mammootty. My favourite was Chinnu Chandni as Mathew's lawyer - understated but with just the right amount of verve and spirit.
Where I find exception is that the divorce was constructed just as a tool to get this conversation started. The issue is not with using divorce as a turning point in the plot. But when you think of it only as a way to force the husband - and by extension, the society he inhabits - to confront his sexuality openly - and not also explore how the wife takes stock of her life and makes a difficult choice - then the film ends up portraying one half of the story, while leaving the other half hanging in the shadows. Waiting. This has been my complaint with Malayali cinema in general - women are often left out. I was deeply disappointed with this film, because I hoped so much it would not.
At one point, Omana and Mathew share a poignant moment where she tells him she filed for a divorce for his sake as much as for herself. I found this extremely difficult to believe.
I can completely expect a woman to come to love her husband in a way that is hard to understand, especially if the husband has been gay, if she knows of his love affairs with men. I can understand Omana has come to love Mathew as a close friend, one who is easy to live with, who she doesn't have to wear masks with, who she has peaceably raised a child with, and found the love of others with, such as the affection of her father-in-law. These are not easy for women to come by in marriage; we hold close what love we get.
What I do not understand is a woman who files for divorce after twenty years around the time her intensely private husband is contesting in the local elections of a small town, who expresses her frustration to her daughter, her father-in-law, and also her husband at having to live with a man who has lied to her, clearly states on the witness stand that it amounts to mental cruelty if a husband refuses to have sex with his wife for years, and yet says to him tears that she did this for him as much as for herself.
I can't understand a man who is understandably in denial when questioned by his lawyer about his wife's claim that he is gay, and yet chooses to contest the divorce at a time when public scrutiny is intense. Was it only to lead up to the showdown in court? Is it easier to explain homosexuality in legal terms rather than show a husband and wife confront it within the confines of their home?
A contested divorce typically happens when the husband and wife cannot talk to each other any more. Their relationship is so fraught with mistrust and manipulation that they cannot communicate without a mediator. Accusations are devised, there's usually a bitter dispute over property or the custody of children. It is expensive, exhausting and very public. And that's why I wasn't convinced when Mathew decided to go to court. After all, he didn't want to divorce Omana at all. The marriage worked for him very well.
Let's say Omana took him to court because he refused to grant her a divorce. How does she not have a single conversation about it with him, first? Wouldn't she want to protect her own reputation by trying as far as possible to manage the divorce quietly? What about the impact on her daughter? Of course, the daughter is not a child, but she is a young, single woman. Look at how awfully Thankan's nephew is bullied. And she does tell her father that she knew about her mother's intentions.
But to go public is to quake the earth. How is it that Omana says not a word to Mathew, not one reference to the election, not a single entreaty to grant them both some peace of mind? At this point, if she told him she was doing this for him too, just so that they can get it done quietly, I would have swallowed my pride.
Interestingly, she does vent to her father-in-law, which I thought was a beautiful moment.
The divorce petition does not make sense either. Would it not be enough to simply state in the petition that the husband has withheld her conjugal rights by refusing to have sex with her, while the homosexuality is explored in private conversations between the two? Restitution of conjugal rights is legitimate grounds for divorce. As Omana's lawyer I would have asked her why she didn't take this route before; she wouldn't have had to wait for Section 377 to be decriminalised. Given their amicable relations, Mathew's quiet nature and Omana's affection for him and their family, a publicly contested divorce where she outs him to the entire town seems terribly vindictive.
I cannot imagine the terror and betrayal that the LGBTQ audience would have felt in that moment.
I don't mean to hang the film on a clothesline at 12 in the searing afternoon. I intend to watch it again, if only to see moments I have missed or misunderstood. I desperately want to be wrong about the way I seem to hear the stories of women in Malayali cinema.
Because this film truly did make me hopeful. It's not every day that you see a woman stand up for herself, especially for her conjugal rights, and state that being in a sexless marriage is mental cruelty. I was left bewildered that this was stated openly but never chosen to be explored in the story. Why bring it up in the first place, when the intention was to only explore the complexities of being an openly gay man in Malayali society?
And that's why this wife who stands up for herself then cries to her husband that she did all this for him too, who canvases for him door to door and sits nervously with him while she waits for a date, it all felt like cardboard. Yet again, a woman has been cast to the shadows and left waiting.