Earlier this month, news came in that members of rightwing organisations had filed police complaints against Annapoorani’s director Nilesh Krishnaa, the lead actor Nayanthara and others for allegedly hurting the majority community’s sentiments.
The list of grievances was predictable in the present political climate, considering that the film is about an upper-caste woman, daughter of a temple cook in Tamil Nadu, rising above her social and religious conditioning regarding meat consumption to become a chef. Among other objections, offence was taken at comments in the film about Ram’s eating habits and the heroine’s relationship with a Muslim man.
Annapoorani was in theatres in December 2023. Its arrival on an OTT is what led to an outcry. What changed in the intervening weeks? The answer is not flattering to Netflix. It also speaks volumes about who in India is willing to push back against fundamentalist diktats and who capitulates unhesitatingly.
At the time of its theatrical release, Annapoorani was not widely marketed across the country. Which is why critiques emanated almost entirely from south Indian reviewers and viewers who, as it happens, are accustomed to filmmakers continuing to question conservative values despite the rightwing backlash they face. The southern ecosystem, therefore, dissected Annapoorani’s politics and cinematic worth, and that was that.
When the film dropped on Netflix, however, it attracted sections of the right who have grown used to the Hindi film industry largely genuflecting before the establishment in the past decade. Fuelled by their track record of successes in this part of the country, they took a legal route to protest. Annapoorani’s co-producers, Zee Studios with its head office in Mumbai, promptly apologised in response to a letter from VHP. There was no court ruling asking them to do so, not even violence that has become common in such circumstances. Zee did what LK Advani accused the media of doing during the Emergency of 1975-77: when asked to bend, they crawled. Annapoorani is apparently now being re-edited while it remains off Netflix.
Contrast this to the Tamil Nadu BJP attacking Mersal (2017) and the actor Vijay, even dragging his minority religious identity into the discussion, because his character in that film criticised government policy and in particular GST. The public in the state and the Tamil film industry backed Mersal.
As a result, the producers who were reportedly preparing to capitulate, dug their heels in instead, and the film stayed on course, becoming a theatrical blockbuster before reaching an OTT.
Annapoorani, too, has defenders in Tamil Nadu. While condemning the danger to creativity that this episode signifies, however, the influential producer-director Pa Ranjith was quoted in Chennai Times as saying, ‘It is strange to note that the production company didn’t fight back. If there was a fight, we would have all supported them.’
It is not that south India is free of bigotry. Obviously not. The objections that the protagonist faces in Annapoorani come from reality. It is equally the reality though that defiance from the cinema of the south and film artistes is still the norm. As debatable as Annapoorani’s quality is, in its own way, it is an act of resistance. That a major studio like Zee and the global streaming major Netflix did not shield the film till all legal options were exhausted is shameful.
Netflix is headquartered in the US, a country that prides itself on its free speech ideals. In its indifference to an Indian film selected by its Indian arm, the company has proved that its commitment to democratic norms is not universal but selective.
