While some desperately try to scrub away the so-called bad influence of violent films, they do yearn for the very thing they claim to despise.
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Keralites have had a complicated relationship with violence in films, adoring the adrenaline rush of edge-of-the-seat action sequences but screaming blue murder the moment someone suggests that the blood and gore might be a bad influence on young, impressionable minds.
Recently, a spate of teenage aggression in the State has triggered a fresh wave of moral outrage, with self-appointed custodians of public decency pointing the finger at the supposed bad influence of violent films. They argue that films are corrupting the youth with the portrayal of violence and other undesirable elements. Suddenly, everyone has an opinion on the perils of hyper-violent cinema, and the conversation is reaching a fever pitch.
This is not to say these concerns are entirely misplaced. Some films do glorify violence in ways that are pretty damaging, but what strikes one as painfully hypocritical is how the very people calling for censorship now has absolutely no problem with sexism, casteism, colourism, and ableism. They laugh heartily at jokes made at the expense of dark-skinned characters, transgender people, those with a heavier build, and tribal people, all the while patting themselves on the back for their progressive values. If anything, these jokes, though subtle in nature compared with the blood-soaked fights and slow-motion shoot-outs, are far more damaging. They may not leave visible scars, but they do inflict psychological wounds that run deep. They enable and justify physical violence in the real world.
Why bother respecting someone when you have been taught to mock them for who they are? Unlike physical violence, a cognisable offence, these uncharitable jokes go unchecked, passing off as innocent fun. Most of them are never considered serious enough to be challenged. Physical violence, for all its brutality, is still bound by certain restraints. Psychological violence? None. The hypocrisy becomes glaring when you realise how quickly people turn against violent films while continuing to endorse or overlook deeply problematic humour. Maybe it’s because psychological violence is easier to dismiss.
All this new-found criticism of violence is bound to have some effect. Filmmakers will tone down action sequences to avoid public ire, but what happens then? People — especially men — will start missing the thrill. The lack of dopamine-releasing, high-adrenaline fights will frustrate them, and we will soon hear voices lamenting the “emasculation” of Malayalam cinema. Their complaints will boil down to one thing: “Where are the real men in Malayalam cinema?” And so, the cycle will continue, looping back to the same old argument about manliness and machismo, now disguised as concern over moral integrity.
The irony is almost poetic. While some audience members desperately try to scrub away the so-called bad influence of violent films, they do yearn for the very thing they claim to despise. It’s as if they want a diet meal that still tastes spicy. As much as this debate is dressed up in moralistic concern, it’s fundamentally about one thing: what does it mean to be a man in Malayalam cinema?
Until we are willing to question the real issue — why we are so obsessed with masculine aggression and why we conveniently ignore deeper, more systemic biases — this entire debate is just a performance. A noisy, predictable, and thoroughly entertaining performance, but a performance nonetheless.
Perhaps it’s time we realised that violence in films is not the only villain. Sometimes, the real danger is our refusal to acknowledge the quieter, subtler, but far more damaging violence we have been happily consuming all along. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start laughing a little less at those “harmless” jokes.
Published – April 27, 2025 04:20 am IST