A man entered the frame from left and out. He walked, and the camera followed. He is still walking, and the camera still tracks it.
The man stopped like a camera. We got the point-of-view man’s shot. By staring at the sea of the face. A boy stands obediently – for fear, not respectful. They start walking, and the camera takes place.
“Do you like Aatha or me?” The man asked. The boy did not answer. They were on their way to bring back the mother’s wife, who had left home. They are still running, and the camera is still with them. We got a tracking shot and several widths. We see the face, place.
Through these two characters, we understand the village vacuum:
The silence was scary and damaged by Ambient’s voice. We see a woman who is bound to duty to do household tasks. While the absence of men feels felt. People play cards, drink and chat with chat or take a nap. Clear power structure.
Notice how the camera changes its role. We got a long shot – from men who borrowed money. From one of the gamblers for alcohol. The man was a drunkard. But this is not determined by the Director.
But by the people around it. Then, the man’s domestic violence and the cold relationship. He separated from with relaxed in-laws was covered. By two women gossiping when they went to Sandhai.
The Director founded nothing, and everything was fed. To us by the faces, we met inside and outside the hamlet in Arittapapi.
The man walked, and the boy followed, like a dog. They stopped at a small shop, and the man bought ₹ 105 (quarter bottles). He took the arena, and we got a shot of the boy’s point of view. The man turned on Bidi and dragged. Two more. Three more. The camera has never really cut.
He ordered his son to leave his bag at the store. When they waited for the bus, the man and the boy saw both sides of the road. As if it implies that they were at the crossroads.
The opening order of Jaw-Dropping from Koozhangal (Pebble) signifies one thing:
PS Vinothaj understands the function of the cinema as a form. He, maybe, is among the filmmakers who believe in the show rather than telling. It’s funny that the first coozhangal at a festival also saw another film at the resistance.
The resistance landscape can be a more suitable title for Vinothaj debut work. Because people who inhabit these places and their lives and livelihoods (I prefer the word Tamil Vazhviyal) depends and rotates around this landscape, are people who refuse. They are everyday people you meet who tell individual stories about their daily lives. Again, this is displayed and not told.
Like a woman who brought three large water pots on the bus to ettimangalam. How far he will travel from his village to collect water, not revealed. But it makes you think because you participate.
It makes you think about everyday mothers travelling by her baby who began to mourn when a fight broke out among our men and everyday people when scars smoked on the bus.
It makes you think because the camera way enlarges the past between men’s feet and freezes to the baby as if to say that the fight interferes with the reality of the baby.
Every day mothers bring their babies and take a walk. They are at the end of the frame. It almost appears like ants. But we still heard babies wailing from a distance; Sound Engineer does a brilliant job. The camera captures hollowness. We saw mom sitting under a tree of shelter, breastfeeding. That has the quality of the painter.