njandukalude nattil oridavela story ending

None of them is hailed as extraordinary or brilliant, they all are totally average middle-class people whose response to each other would probably be a small shrug. Brothers and sisters aren’t constantly quarreling cutesy companions or rival gangs fighting over their parents’ affections.

These people do the smallest of things, like accompanying the mother to a hospital, giving her a reassuring tap on her shoulder, or simply telling her that she would be fine.And that rings so true, even- when the one who has been reassuring you for such a long time needs reassurances herself, what do you say?Īnother aspect of the film that is really on-spot is its take on relationships. A moment of apparent encouragement is blown into hilarity. Instead, when the children know (thanks to a misunderstanding) about their father contracting cancer, and Pauly starts citing example of a certain Neil Armstrong, his sister quickly retorts that it was Lance Armstrong. The real surprise of Njandukalude is that we don’t see any clear-cut ‘support’ from the family members- no shaving of hairs (remember Ae Dil Hai Mushkil?), no you-got-it-mom speech from emphatic people at dinner table, no tear-filled moments that fill us with determination. And, probably like all mothers would, she feels her enthusiasm and energy being whittled away because of the crab (figurative) that has been gnawing away at her nerves. Watch out for the utter cluelessness on Pauly’s face as he loads his clothes into the washing machine). She does what all mothers do- washing clothes, making tea, sighing on seeing her husband’s cigar, tending quietly to the demented father-in-law (we get to know most of these in a funny sequence where she launches into a non-cooperation movement, and asks everyone to tend to their own businesses themselves. The mother, instead, gets the workplace as an important part of her life (Later, when she undergoes chemotherapy, we see her trying to teach at the head of an empty classroom, and we realise how ’empty’ she is feeling from within). It feels so fresh to see a subversion-of-sorts of gender stereotype – we don’t even know what the father does, except for sitting at home all day long. He is a jolly little man, easily scared out of his wits, something he is not ashamed of admitting (that gruff look combined with his helpless gaze as his wife asks him why he is so scared of revealing her cancer to the children is so human). Here, it is used to color him differently). The father, for instance, is for once not the thundering patriarch or an ex-army person who smokes and drinks against a thousand pleas by his wife not to do so, but someone who would think twice before throwing the unburnt cigarette stubble into a flower pot, courtesy a prior scolding by his wife (The point is, this smoking thing would have painted a violent picture of this man elsewhere. But contrary to the bolt-from-the-blue scenario this suggests, the proceedings are staged with a touch of slight humor which eases rather than suffocating you. The scope for which, in fact, is wide: this is a Still Alice-esque premise of a mother (who also teaches in a college) catching a dreaded disease (cancer, the “crab” the title refers to) and the impact of the fallout on her family. But while Kapoor and Sons was more concerned with the dramatic possibility of the unravelling of ties forged on lies, this is a gentler, smoother beast, and therefore devoid of drama.

Both of them feature people – actors- who are virtually unaware of an instrument called camera following them as they blabber away with stuffed mouths, eat into each other’s lines and lead to a wonderfully wild sense of confusion all around- it’s an arrhythmic metre that replicates real life. It’s impossible not to think of Kapoor And Sons while watching Njandukalude Nattil Oridavela, a film that’s less about a family than about the individuals in it.

Njandukalude nattil oridavela story ending