At one point in the nearly three-hour film, there is a heartwarming moment when a tribal woman. Including the main character – reverses her power and utterly refuses to submit to a system of rules.
That exploits the fruits of her labour. From the point of view of the Tamil cinema-masala convention, this is a “crowd scene”. Which writes about a Dalit character to allow him to look his oppressor in the eye. And perhaps say, “No, you can destroy “.
Insights into the history of Jai Bhim:
Senggeni (Lijomol Jose), the wife of Rajacannu (Manikandan, in another brilliant show). Who fights alone for her husband’s torture and death on her way to court. And gets this exciting moment through her lawyer Chandru (Surya). Or instead because of the support from big Tamil movie stars.
Does it reflect reality? No. But does it work as a self-healing crowd scene? Yes, Sir. Thanks to Sean Roldan’s beat music. It’s also an excellent piece that announces the intent that especially put into such a disposition. Still, something looks broken. Either the effect it wants on us, or the stage construction feels shallow.
Keep in mind that this superficiality doesn’t come from Jai Bhim himself. But from the realization that a Tamil movie star acts as a saviour and shows the way. Fortunately, with Surya and some Tha Se Gnanavel’s support, the film doesn’t suffer the pressure of the rescue complex. Because Surya meets more allies here.
But that doesn’t negate the fact that the scene discussed above is a testament to the small compromise. That you must pay to include a story of injustice and exploitation.
All of which are already from the Dalit movement. When we are ready to forgive and forget this stream of consciousness about compromise. This is an excellent place to be closed. In the case of Jai Bhim, this is a yes and a no. But this is a problem beyond the film.
As for Jai Bhim, this is perhaps one of the boldest films of Tamil cinema.
Most of you might mistake his bravery for the gruesome violence of the film. Which shows extreme police brutality and prison torture let me save the details. But some of these scenes are downright embarrassing. But that’s not all. Think about how it unfolds, and you’ll know where I’m going with it.
In the opening sequence, there is a police officer who groups the suspects according to their caste. He asked, “nee endha aalu (which person are you?)”.
If they were Dalit or tribal, they would be placed in separate groups. While suspects from dominant and middle caste groups would be released. Made false accusations against the Dalits; they are being followed up and pursued by the appropriate officials to close pending cases.
Perhaps more importantly, lately, there has never been a Tamil film. That specifically mentions the names of the dominant caste groups for fear of the exciting repercussions it might have. Indeed, there is one scene where the dominant member of the caste group is heard saying.
“Unga Suciai-ya kollutha evalavu neram aagum (how long will it take to burn your house down)”. But Jai Bhim did not turn his back on all this. This policy is not simplified here; he is direct and has sharp eyes. It doesn’t crash.
It hits. It is a film that separates the individual components of caste, law enforcement, and justice and questions them on the witness stand.
What Tha Se Gnanavel also correctly understands is how:
Where Dalits and people from tribal communities are exploited for their work. Rajacannu made a living making bricks for his oppressors, but he could not build a house for himself.
He was used to having rodents (or snakes) in the fields, but he was not allowed to touch or talk to dominant caste members – a woman would kick him out if he said he was from the same village. For nearly 40 minutes, we look at the innumerable forms of caste in Rajacannu’s life, and the irony goes well, even if it sounds a bit insensitive.