He arrives like a wayward bumpkin but wins you over with his elemental innocence. He scuffles through the pragmatic urban planet trying hard to recreate the idyllic mode of life he is rooted to. He oozes with the sap of life and fills his orphanhood with a loud booming voice. After a small hiatus Mammootty is back to some serious business with Loud Speaker, a film that floors you with its simplicity and sincerity. You easily get sucked into the rustic rhapsody he creates no matter how prejudiced or preconceived your notions are.
Loud Speaker is the story of Mike, an uncouth villager who lands up in a big city as a kidney donor to a wealthy astrophysicist played by Shashi Kumar.
How he fits into a seemingly aloof world and serenades an animus crowd around him to the sunshine of life forms the core of the script. The baggage or urban sophistication never bogs him down and you are taken aback by the sinful, scornful gluttony with which approaches life. As the unbridled migrant Mike, Mammootty proves his tremendous comic credentials in the film without resorting to creepy gimmickry or child’s play.
Simpleton Mike will definitely be responsible for the few honest and hearty laughs you had recently.
The real surprise of the film is Shashi Kumar who plays the aged scientist Mr Menon. The veteran mediaman plays his role to such perfection that it’s almost impossible to imagine any other actor in his place. Like a seasoned artist he negates the concrete aristocracy of his character with elusive expressions and an effortless body language bringing out a soul lost in the debris of memories. With his restrained and moderate acting skill he foregrounds the pangs of an emotionally ostracised existence and its underlying guilt.
With expertise, Jayaraj, who is also the scriptwriter of the film, shows how Mike breaks into his island and erupts into his hermetic solitude and detachment with his tales of Thopramkudi.
But the director who scores in the characterisation of the lead actors loses balances when it comes to others.
It still puzzles the viewer why Jayaraj had to cast a Bollywood imported actress to play the lead lady. Any Malayalam actress would have done Gracy Singh’s role more naturally and convincingly. Jayaraj also tries to parade a group of actors and you are prone to wonder why Harisree Ashokan or Cochin Haneefa in a blink and miss role and why Suraj Venjaramood in a comic dud hatched just for him. The film also repeats one of the longest running comic clichés in Malayalam cinema when Mike mixes Vim in Suraj’s tea. Among the situations and characters lacking freshness only the dejected father played by Janardhanan lingers in your memory.
Bijibal’s poignant background score and the use of the song ‘Alliyambal Kadavil… rekindling nostalgia adds to the gentle cinematic experience Loud Speaker is. It’s not tearjerker situations and sentimental superlatives that make Loud Speaker, but the subtle humour that laces the undercurrent of pathos and pain. It’s not a film that scores full points for someone keen on dissecting every cell of it. But yes, it’s a film that touches the humane chords in your heart and leaves you with a genuine smile on your face.
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