Kantara, the Kannada film, was a blockbuster local hit that then went on to become a nationwide success towards the tail end of the year 2022.
The basic plot revolves around Shiva, a young unemployed man who lives in the rustic heartland of Karnataka, and how he comes to terms with his duty as a Bhoota Kola Nartaka, who is both a performer and someone in communion with a deity. The deity in this case is the Panjurli Deva, who has granted prosperity to the village folk for many decades as they continue to worship him. The film touches on many relevant topics and themes such as the role of the state in interfering with faith systems and rituals of the people (particularly those living in hinterlands far from urban spaces), the nature of Devatas, and the conflict between modernity and tradition. This piece, however, does not seek to further expound on the above given that it has been heavily covered by many other adept writers and reviewers. The review will solely confine itself to discussing whether the movie was indeed harsh in its portrayal of women.

Prior to penning down more, I must be honest that at first sight, I found it to be more of a ‘masala film’ than the ‘masterpiece’ some proclaimed it to be. Of course, like most people, I was stunned, awed, and silenced by the final climatic scene where (spoiler alert) the primary protagonist, Shiva undergoes an Avesha /possession of the Devata. One would have to be made of something dense not to be strongly moved by the undeniable Shakti on display. I loved the Varaha Roopam song as well. Apart from that the movie did not really resonate or ‘click’ with me. Then I came across many nuanced reviews and I changed my stance on multiple positions. These were posts that were educational as well as insightful. Many subtleties & hidden symbolisms in the movie that had previously eluded me snapped into sharp focus. I learnt much about the details regarding the nature of Bhoota Kola rituals, Devatas of the Tulu Nadu region, the conflict between the State and the native people over their way of life, and much more. I have no qualms in admitting that I appreciate it far more now than I did at first.
I have also learnt the importance of being receptive to different opinions and giving the film another chance. I’d like to watch the film again to spot some subtleties and nuances that I might have missed the first time. That said, I now come to one of the common criticisms that had been levelled at the film i.e. whether it was ‘Anti-Woman’ in its depiction of its female characters. Let’s dive in and examine the validity of that claim.

At a point beyond the halfway mark of the movie, the male protagonist, Shiva kicks his wife, Leela when she comes to serve him food. On the face of it, this looks awful. Is a man physically abusing his wife? This is probably a textbook example of a poor depiction of women in fiction. However, before jumping to conclusions we should remind ourselves that the scene has not yet concluded. Immediately afterward, the ‘hero’ is berated by his own mother who uses the strongest of language to condemn his dastardly act. She asks him whether this is the way she has raised him. Perhaps the detractors missed that scene? I’d encourage them to re-watch the movie to refresh their memories in case they did. The scene is clear and unequivocal as a condemnation of hitting one’s wife. Ideally, that should settle matters once and for all and leave nothing to ambiguity.

The film is now available on Amazon Prime for all to check up on that scene.

Speaking of the character of the mother, let’s now analyse her own behaviour. She’s often seen verbally abusing her son, running around chasing him, and has little qualms over hitting him when he seems to be behaving irresponsibly. Hardly a portrayal of ‘submissive’ women. The mother here has the license to do what no other individual (man or woman) can do. The male protagonist Shiva would have violently retaliated had any other individual tried even a fraction of what his own mother is allowed to get away with.

Let us now analyse the other woman’s character, the wife or Leela. Although she does not have a great deal of screen time, the wife is far from a caricature. She happens to be one of the few characters in the village who is educated and also one who holds a job outside the village. I can’t recall the exact nature of the job but she seems to be employed as part of forest regulatory authorities which is an arm of the ‘all-powerful’ State shown in the film.

Interestingly it’s the hero and husband who uses his ‘influence’ to get her that job. (We can dive into the questionable ethics of gaining employment through ‘contacts’ on some other day as it is not particularly relevant to the discussion at hand.) If he were as bad as he’s being made out to be, wouldn’t he do all he could to thwart her job prospects? He is neither insecure nor has any qualms that she’s more educated than him. Never mind that the job in question throws up issues of its own, namely that of conflicted loyalties: her responsibilities to her husband and family (and her fellow village folk at large) vs. her duties of the ‘inspection’ job. It’s an unenviable position to be in. Perhaps, many women of our ‘modern’ age can empathise and relate to that – of having to juggle both professional and family commitments i.e. a Dharma Sankat of sorts. Recall the scene wherein the wife proclaims out loud that no one understands her predicament and plight. I would have liked to have seen this scene being further expanded on but that’s just a personal preference. It was handled delicately enough.

Let us now analyse one of the more contentious parts of the film, the ‘pinching’ scene. Of all the objections raised to it being ‘anti-woman’, this is the only one that may possibly hold some merit. Before we rush to make judgements, it is important to understand the setting of the movie and the context: rural Karnataka. It goes without saying that dynamics between men and women are a little more raw, unsophisticated (arguably), blunt, and in your face in a rustic area as opposed to the supposedly ‘sophisticated’ urban settings. Lovers tend to be more uninhibited and take liberties with each other. Liberties that they would not dare to take with anyone else. Don’t we all do that with our partners? In this regard, the ‘rustic lovers’ are hardly an exception. It’s important to recall that these two are childhood acquaintances. He does not behave in such a manner with someone he doesn’t even know. He’s not a stranger to her. This has to be understood before we pronounce harsh judgements. No one is saying that those are excusable behaviours. They are not. It should be criticised but in moderation. Certainly not to the extent that we lose sight of the multiple positives of the film and its undeniable impact on viewers, particularly the climatic scene and final stand-off.

One last thing that leans in favour of the wife’s portrayal. Recall the final standoff between the villagers and the landowners. The one who throws the first spear and kicks start the battle is Leela – hardly a ‘passive’ figure who plays no role in the film.

There is no doubt that the ‘Anti-Woman’ criticism has been overplayed. While there is (some) merit to objecting to the ‘pinching’ scene, the other objections are hollow and do not hold much water after being subject to scrutiny. They should not hold us back from appreciating a film that has many other positives.

Final Rating: 3.9/5 Stars

All in all a great film. Certainly not a masterpiece as some proclaim it to be, although the visuals are gorgeous as is the cinematography and the beautiful shots from different angles. This film could well prove to be a watershed moment and a turning point in Indian cinema. It could be credited as the first ‘mainstream’ film that is unapologetic in its depiction of the role the Divine plays in our day-to-day lives. Also one that could pave the way for more such films across Bharat in many different languages.