A powerful message is lost in clunky, formulaic drama

In a powerful scene in actor Bose Venkat’s directorial debut Misterasks village head Annadurai a question to the frustrated workers of Mangollai. “What kind of God is this who is bothered when a school stands in his way?” He is addressing people from oppressed communities who cannot decide whether to choose education or their ruling caste landlords question those who prevent their improvement in the name of God. What follows is an astute monologue about the use of religion as a weapon with great impact. This sequence gives a glimpse of what Mister could have been. It’s a shame, though, that this is only a small part of the flashback – a sequence that’s part of a largely mediocre film.

Bose Venkat aims to make some relevant observations through his film – the relationship between religion and inherent power, the importance of government education and the god complex that fanatics of the dominant caste often enjoy. The problem, however, is that the actor-turned-filmmaker chooses an extremely loud, formulaic setup to discuss the discourse in question.

Mister The film largely narrates the lives of three generations of government teachers in a village in Tamil Nadu. Annadurai passes on his courage to his son Arasan (Saravanan), who in turn tries to pass on a third of the same strength of character to his son Gnanam (Vemal). The three men adhere to the “education for all” model and fight for the enlightenment of the lower caste classes in their village. Trouble ensues in the form of the dominant caste of the Kolautchi family, who pride themselves on producing generations of entitled priests, leading to constant opposition to Annadurai’s family of teachers and their persecution.

Mister is undoubtedly rough around the edges. Iniyan J Harish’s camera regularly cuts to reaction shots of endless tears from the audience during emotional moments. The narrative style is awkward and often distracts from the seriousness of the topic.

But technical and dramatic choices aside, the film challenges audiences to take each of its sermons seriously. The protagonist, fighting for the right to education, is the same man who stares at a teacher (played by Chaya Devi Kannan) and secretly watches her shower while Sean Rolden’s voice fills the room, rationalizing voyeurism as romance.

Aside from their love of teaching, the men in Gnanam’s family have something else in common: their obvious tendency to descend into “madness.” This part of the film is shot so awkwardly and handled with such a melodramatic and heavy hand that it practically becomes the film’s downfall. Great men are often labeled as crazy, says Vemal’s Gnanam at one point. When someone calls his father “crazy,” Gnanam angrily corrects him, not because they are derogatory, but because his father is not “crazy.” The film’s distorted viewpoints are on full display in these parts.

What is also worrying is that the protagonists often adopt a messiah complex. By making its bigoted villains masters of manipulation, it also ultimately portrays students and lower-caste workers as overly trusting and uncultured simpletons incapable of forming their own opinions. And in doing so, the film unintentionally adapts to stereotypes from other perspectives.

Although the film’s heart is definitely in the right place, its reductive writing style often lets it down and devours its powerful message.

If there’s something Sruthi loves more than watching films, it’s writing about them. Sruthi Ganapathy Raman’s words can also be read in Film Companion, Scroll.in and The Times of India.

Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any business relationship with the film’s producers or other members of its cast and crew.