Spoiler alert: If you haven’t watched it yet, you can watch the film before or after reading, depending on whether you like spoilers or not.
The movie ‘Super Deluxe’ released in 2019 received much praise in the media for its concept, storytelling and for many the highlight was the ‘sensitive’ portrayal of a transwoman by actor Vijay Sethupathi. Very soon, however, trans people highlighted key issues with the movie. One, a cis man was cast in the role of a transwoman; two, the portrayal does not escape stereotypes such as the so-called begging mafia, sex work, abandoning of wife and child; three, some trans people also took conflicting positions regarding the purported conclusion of her life story – the discussions loosely stood around whether it promotes a forced return to the ‘abandoned’ wife and whether some trans people may be objecting to the ending merely because they do not wish to accept the possibility of transwomen as lesbians.
All these issues deserve attention. That cis men are being cast as transwomen is a historical problem of representation that affects every marginal identity. At the other end, in Bollywood, now we also see cis women (Sushmita Sen, Vaani Kapoor, for instance) playing transwomen characters. Objectively, this is wrong and should not happen. At the same time what these two extremes represent are different types of visibility and desirability attributed to the transfeminine existence, and what the cis people view or understand as different classes, stages of and possibilities of medical transition. And because different people are at different stages of transition, dealing with different desires and obstacles surrounding their transition, there will always be some part of the community that will feel “seen” in these visual representations. For instance, when the Malayalam movie ‘Njan Marykutty’ was released many older transwomen spoke about crying after seeing themselves being represented ‘sensitively’ in a Malayalam commercial film for the first time, though it too had a cis man as the lead. Without denying those emotions, we can agree that trans roles should be performed by trans persons.
As regards the stereotypes and the ending, I would argue that the makers haven’t given such great thought to the matter. And this is where I would like to move away from the question of visual representation to the story itself, and the place of the transwoman’s character in the story.
Sin and redemption: The heart of the story
The film is characterized as a ‘hyperlink’ narrative, where different characters, living different lives, impact each other’s lives in unknown ways. There are elements of fantasy, sex, crime, death and theology. The narrative itself ends on the note of universal unity, half-truths, butterfly effects and such plaintive philosophies.
The hyperlinking takes place across the following key characters: Vaembu and Mugil (a caste-endogamous couple in an arranged marriage); Leela and Arputham (a couple separated by Leela’s past as a porn film actor), and their son who must face his mother’s past; A band of 5 teenage boys who want to watch a porn film (Leela’s son being one of them); Shilpa and Raasukutti (a transwoman and her young child); Berlin (a sub-inspector up to no good); An alien girl.
Even though disparate, there is one common feature tying all these characters (except the alien girl): they are all sinners. However, Shilpa – the transwoman, I argue, is the original and the worst sinner in this story, and hence her redemption is also the worst.
Let us review.
Vaembu, stuck in her unhappy marriage, commits ‘adultery’ with a paramour from her past. Through the course of the film, since the paramour is now dead and simply a lifeless (comedic) representation of her sin, she is brought closer to the husband in conflict and a shared interest in keeping the sin hidden. She must face the possibility of punishment in the form of a real and overt threat from the inspector Berlin. And in a comedic manner, she is rescued from this ‘punishment’. Till such time, however, she is verbally assaulted.
Leela, a single mother, abandoned by her husband, lives with the truth of a growing son and her past as an actor in a porn film. Her ‘sin’ – the desire for fame – is offset by the reality of those who consume said content. And she stands tall, with the equanimity of a self-possessed and self-aware mother. An equanimity that is made possible by the fact that the child is an errant son. We do not know how this conversation would have unfolded if it were a self-righteous daughter.
Arputham, a father who abandons family, resigns to shame and suicidal behaviour, now lives as an irrational fanatic and god man. In this he commits the ‘sin’ of duping himself and others. All the while living with the guilt of abandoning his family. His redemption is merely a simplistic re-telling of the eternal question: whether god exists or not. He does not have to answer to wife or child.
The five teenage boys commit a battery of ‘sins’ in close succession. After beginning to watch the porn film, Leela’s son proceeds to attempt matricide, while one of his friends follows in an attempt to stop him. His redemption is accidentally maiming himself, fighting for his life and returning to reality. Topped off with some self-deprecating humour.
The remaining three friends, unconcerned by the fate of their friend, get involved in attempted murder, theft and the endless references to being horny – ending with them meeting the alien girl. They face no lasting consequence except to successfully watch a porn film they had set out to watch at the beginning of the movie.
What about Shilpa? Everyone’s opening is true to life. According to this movie, Shilpa, a mature transwoman, having transitioned, naively returns to her crowded home street in broad daylight. From there on she maintains a forced, submissive and fearful femininity, quietly receives all the harassment brought her way, and teaches her young son to always remain ‘obedient’.
Unlike Vaembu, Leela, Arputham, the alien girl or any of the boys, she has no sprightly comeback, no excellent philosophy, no savior, no friend. The filmmakers haven’t met a real trans person, for sure. She is the original sinner: the one who must consistently seek forgiveness for venturing on the path to seek herself. But because the filmmakers cannot acknowledge that this is the actual sin she has committed, they manufacture a sin that beats all sins into nothingness – the sin against innocent children. Though there is no proof as regards the existence of ‘begging mafias’, she is the sinner who unwittingly leads children into such a mafia. Unwittingly, being the key point here. Unlike all the other ‘sinners’ who make a conscious decision to commit the ‘sinful’ acts, her sin is unwitting.
This is neither immediately apparent, nor is this the largesse of their storytelling. No.
There is no other way they could have presented it, because they do not understand the deeply rooted prejudice that lies in all of our minds against self-determination, against ‘resisting’ nature, against ‘embracing oneself’ to the fullest. And so they can’t explain it in any meaningful way. Nor can they explain how, unlike the other people – characters who have been written, critiqued and re-written over time – this character’s psyche, life and actions operate in this universe. A universe in which her existence neither the writer, nor the actor, nor the viewer can fathom.
Therefore, the undressing of a ‘manic pixie’ alien girl invites youthful salivation and visuals of ‘ethereal beauty’. Whereas the dressing of the transwoman must invite distaste.
And so it is that Shilpa connects all the story lines with her original, irredeemable sin. Cursed by each and every sinner, directly or indirectly, through the movie, her redemption occurs in two extremely demeaning ways. One, she places the curse on Berlin – the inspector, thereby ensuring his death and the protection of the caste-endogamous couple of Vaembu and Mugil. In ‘gaining powers to curse’ she is temporarily ‘possessed’ and separated from her real self.
Second, she must kneel before her son (who, we must assume for now, will grow up to become a man) for wanting to be herself and knowing that such a life will never be possible within the four walls. And in this final moment, the true relationship between an adult trans person and a cisgender child is unwittingly brought forward by the filmmakers. Every adult trans person knows what it is like to live around a self-assured, often spoilt cisgender child – whether related to us or not, a child who can smell our fear, tell us off, publicly throw stones at us, investigate us, demand answers from us. What has been described as a ‘magical’ relationship between the ‘innocent’ child and ‘repentant’ parent, is in the final analysis, an act of emotional violence that perhaps only a trans person can face at the hands of a child.
The role of the ‘wife’ is quite inconsequential (just as the camaraderie forced), when we reflect on how the child invites and succeeds in ensuring that Shilpa now seek the path of self-abandonment. A fate that is visited upon none of the other characters.
Gaaji, the mark of the makers
It is presumed that a film such as this does not have a hero. Disagree. Let us define ‘hero’ in simple terms. In popular culture, the hero doesn’t have much of a complicated backstory, goes through obstacles with relative ease, and emerges successful at the end of the story. And, for most part, the hero bears the mark of the psyche of the author/filmmaker.
That mark and that hero in this film is Gaaji. One of the five teenage boys. He has no real backstory, is the most objectively good-looking, smooth and savvy, his intentions lack any complexity or reflection beyond primal desires, and he is the epitome of the cisgender person’s deep envy of transness and all its beautiful possibilities and complications. As such, even while bathing Shilpa in sin after sin, the filmmaker actually splits Gaaji into two using the shoddy tool of fantasy. One, for intellectual masturbatory explorations with the alien girl, another for more base physical masturbatory explorations with friends. In both lives, irrespective of whether he lies, cheats, abandons friends, commits fraud or murder, we must presume he faces no consequence. Not even the threat of consequence.
Indeed, apart from Gaaji (representing the filmmaker), everyone else faces the threat of consequence. And apart from everyone else, Shilpa bears violence and the full force of consequence. Thereby reiterating the eternal Brahmanical rule of karma/consequence – it is only for the ‘fallen’. Fallen being those who seek self-determination.
Conclusion
I watched the movie in 2020, but was too caught up in crisis to fully write this down. But it was important to write because very often we get caught up in the layer of physical / visual representation forgetting the deep wounds being repeatedly left by absolutely shoddy storytelling. As mentioned earlier, a heterogeneous community or a community represented by a very small minority of voices, can never adequately resolve the internal voices around what is and is not right visual representation. We do not have a right to representation in politics yet. So no matter how often we repeat the objective truth that we must represent ourselves, in the realm of the arts (where there is a certain creative independence and private capital) this is a slow realization and a much slower actualization.
But till such time, we must continue to interrogate and lay bare the underlying violence in the storytelling. Describe as barely, as clearly as possible, the real place imagined for the transgender character in the writers’/filmmakers’ universe. And ask those who celebrate the film whether they would now invite themselves to change their mind.
And, more importantly, hold that even with shoddy visual representation sometimes a sound story might emerge. But with a shoddy story, a sound representation will never be possible.