Fasil Muhammed’s delightful debut feature Feminichi Fathima (Feminist Fathima), is a pint-sized revolution that should be made compulsory, tax-free viewing all India
Illustration/Uday Mohite
MALAYALAM FILMMAKERS have been making great cinema for nearly a century; small mercies, the Bollywood crowd and other Northies “discovered” it about 10 years ago, or 90 years later. I’m delighting in Fasil Muhammed’s debut feature Feminichi Fathima (Feminist Fathima), a low-budget, pint-sized revolution that should be made compulsory, tax-free viewing all India. A mattress on which a kid has peed, in a north Kerala village, becomes an instrument for his Muslim mullah dad, Ashraf, to oppress his wife Fathima. But the masterly screenplay allows Fathima to quietly become a feminist, jettisoning a truckload of patriarchal and religious strictures. The film won a slew of awards at the International Film Festival of Kerala, including the FIPRESCI Award for Best International Film, NETPAC Award for Best Malayalam Film, Jury Prize-International, FFSI KR Mohanan Award for Best Debut Feature-Special Mention, and Audience Poll Award. It was also at the Bishkek International Film Festival, Kyrgyzstan.
Seeing how mainstream Indian cinema has been playing the communal card, portraying Muslims mostly as terrorists, mullahs, or “love jihadis”, Malayalam filmmakers have countered these stereotypes with films in which Muslims are also good guys, or victims, and even charming grannies and spunky wives. These include Zakariya’s most charming Sudani from Nigeria, about a village football team that hires a Nigerian footballer, Aamir Pallikal’s Manju Warrier-starrer Ayisha, theme-wise a sort of Malayali Sound of Music set in the Gulf, Blessy’s The Goat’s Life, on Malayalis exploited in the Gulf, and Tharun Moorthy’s Saudi Vellakka, to Feminist Fathima.
Fathima puts the stinky mattress to dry in the sun, but after a dog also pees on it, Ashraf forbids her from bringing it in, so when the sweeper asks for it, she gives it away, not realising she will be forced to sleep without a mattress. Every time she solves the mattress issue, her husband blocks her, he forces her to return a mattress gifted by a friend (it is so old, her friend says she will be “sleeping with history”) claiming it has “djinns/spirits”, return a new one as payment of interest is “haram”/impure. When Fathima’s brother buys her a phone, the kids use it for their homework, but it also connects Fathima to the modern world outside. Finally [spoiler alert], she earns a little money cooking for her friend, starts an informal chit fund with her friends, and buys her own mattress delivered to her separate bedroom [spoiler alert ends].
In Spike Lee’s explosive musical Chi-Raq, 2015, adapted from Aristophanes’ Greek play Lysistrata, women in Chicago combat the rising gun crime rate by collectively going on a sex strike, refusing their men sex till they put down their guns. In Feminist Fathima, as Fathima moves to the kids’ bedroom, she quietly locks the bedroom door after her husband won’t/can’t afford R1000 to even buy her a mattress, but pesters her nightly for sex. Muhammed’s master stroke is that Fathima doesn’t declare a sex strike; she’s so engrossed in her new phone, she barely hears her husband’s knocks on the door, so zor ka jhatka, dheere se (a solid blow, landing gently). And when he tells a woman architect her plot is haunted, another ustad warns him to find practical solutions to “put food on the table,” casting doubts on the nature of his work. Fasil Muhammed’s screenplay and film stage a revolution, taking on the patriarchy and religion, but smartly, with kid gloves, and as self-reflection. Shamla Hamza is marvellous as Fathima, ably supported by an ensemble cast, including Kumar Sunil as Ashraf.
Fasil Muhammed is the writer, director and editor. His brilliant screenplay also observes how Indian men routinely convert their wives via marriage into lifetime maids, who will look after them like babies, cook, clean, sweep, respond to where’s my shawl, where’s my sandals, etc. With delicious humour, the screenplay takes on patriarchy, religion, class (the sweeper woman teaches them to activate a SIM card, and contributes to her chit fund), and also punctures the great Gulf dream. Kudos also to the producers of this courageous gem, Thamar KV and Sudeesh Scaria. Absolute must-see. Kuch toh seekho, Bollywood!
Meenakshi Shedde, film curator, has been working with the Toronto, Berlin and other festivals worldwide for 30 years. She has been a Cannes Film Festival Jury Member and Golden Globes International Voter, and is a journalist and critic. Reach her at meenakshi.shedde @mid-day.com
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