Over a narrative that combines a trial by jury with the unfolding of an improvised script, Aattam illuminates the reckoning that led to the MeToo movement. After a successful film festival run, Anand Ekarshi’s Malayalam-language feature debut has been released in Kerala and has now emerged in cinemas outside the state.
Anjali (Zarin Shihab), the only female member of a theatre troupe, is exceedingly comfortable with her male co-actors, some of whom she has known for years. Following a successful performance of their latest play, the group convenes for a celebration. The interpersonal dynamic, which has already been somewhat revealed during the rehearsal, is further exposed at the party. A sexual assault on Anjali during the night sends the group into a tailspin.
It’s no coincidence that 11 men, except the one accused of committing the crime, convene to take a decision on Anjali’s ordeal. Seemingly trivial details about individual characters assume vital importance during what amounts to be a mock courtroom hearing.
Among the drivers of the meeting is Vinay (Vinay Forrt), who resents the elevation of Hari (Kalabhavan Shajohn) as the stage production’s leading man. As a somewhat successful film actor, Hari appears to be lending his sheen to his peers, even while he seeks validation through theatre.
Ekarshi’s screenplay dispassionately unpacks the way men talk about women and react to allegations of sexual crimes. Seemingly logical and progressive, the men lay themselves bare in their reactions.
Self-interest clashes with the need to be seen as doing the right thing. The character sketches acknowledge the individual circumstances of the men while also refusing to let them off the hook when their masks drop.
The film overcomes its largely static setting through deft camerawork by Anurudh Aneesh and editing by Mahesh Bhuvanend. Tightly written and superbly performed by the ensemble cast, Aattam doesn’t resort to facile moralising while never wavering on its empathy towards Anjali or its anger at the dilemmas she is forced to confront.
The need to know every detail of the assault, as well as the revelation of truth bombs over the course of the debate, lend the 139-minute movie the air of a police procedural, but with one key difference. Rather than victims and perpetrators, we have a bunch of all-too-human characters confronted with a moral crisis to which the simple solution proves the toughest to adopt.
