The folklore tradition has enriched Tamil cinema with several films about the romantic relationship between an oppressed caste man and an upper-caste woman. Most of the stories of village deities are about men and women who are wronged and get killed, after which they get deified. Their killings are usually brushed under the carpet by ‘elevating’ them to God status. Aariyamala is interesting for narrating the folklore of deities Kathavarayan and his consort/lover Aariyamala and highlighting the perpetuity of the social repulsion towards intercaste love and weddings. However, that alone was never going to be enough for a satisfying watch.
Set in Nadu Naadu or Cuddalore, Aariyamala begins with two sisters, Malar (Manisha Jith) and Kayal (Durga), going about playing around in the village and fields. Malar’s anxiety of not hitting puberty and not getting a suitor grows manifold when her younger sister Kayal attains puberty. She gets a dream of falling in love with an army man (RS Karthik); what happens next when she meets the person in real forms the rest of Aariyamala‘s story.
Every character in the film is only functional, with Manisha Jith alone showing some variation in her performance. Actor Elizabeth’s Gomathi manages to mildly impress in scenes where she says she values her stepdaughter as much as hers and never can she neglect her, even if it is beneficial for her biological daughter. The narration may look tactless for laying all of its emphasis on whether or not Malar attains puberty, as though nothing else matters. But you tend to overlook that when you realise this is an 80s village with not so many inhabitants and nothing much to discuss about. Aariyamala‘s problems are twofold. One is its stale storytelling and missing out on achieving a 100 per cent conviction even in that.
The tale of Kathavarayan and Aariyamala is literally the story of every couple that got killed due to caste pride. There was no pressing necessity to set the film in the milieu where it is set. The time period and the remote location are restrictive in themselves to get imaginative. A love story unfolding in a rural landscape requires no nuance while attempting to draw parallels to the story of Kathavarayan; such writing naturally borders on laziness. It would have been subliminal to see how Kathavarayan’s story lives on after centuries, even in lives far removed from the thought process of viewing romantics of different social strata as necessary evil.
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