Radha Ravi is only one symptom, the discomfort is deep

The indignation of the Tamil film industry against the crusty and misogynistic words of the actor Radha Ravi is a little hot in the heart. It was too late. Radha Ravi is an actor who has always made such comments and managed to get out of it, thanks to the influence exerted by his family in the Tamil cinematographic bodies (he is the son of the famous actor / politician MR Radha and half-brother to the actor Radhika Sarathkumar). Nayanthara, perhaps the only woman to win such a title, had to recover it when he greeted the reigning superstar.

Speaking at an event to launch the movie trailer, Kolaiyuthir Kalam who has Nayanthara in the lead role, Radha Ravi made humiliating remarks for the film. actor.

Ironically, singer Chinmayi joined her about the #MeToo movement, in which she had finally found the courage to name the lyricist Vairamuthu. Having allegedly badually harbaded her, she was quickly ousted from the Tamil Nadu dubbing union, headed by Radha Ravi, and was denied work in the industry. The veteran actor would have waited a few more months to insult Nayanthara directly to understand what the recipient felt.

Nevertheless, Radha Ravi remained unperturbed. He declared that he would not excuse himself, "because he had done nothing wrong." Maybe he could express his regrets to Nayanthara and his partner, the director, Vignesh Sivan, for "hurting their emotions," he suggested.

In 2016, director Suraj said that he had cut the length of his main ladies' clothes because his audience was paying to see "glamorous heroines". Nayanthara and Tamannah, who were then playing heroin in her film Kaththi Sandai strongly opposed her statement and Suraj apologized quickly. Despite the excuses, the heroines of most of Suraj's films only appear to fill the "glamorous quotient".

Let us be clear: Tamil cinema, a century-old institution, is intrinsically misogynistic. Even a heroine such as Nayanthara – who has established herself as a superstar, who has written films for her, and who has given Tamil cinema a chance to create films without heroes – has had to continue playing ordinary roles. Essentially, pieces where she is either courted or brought to be approached by a hero.

Nayanthara has few precedents in Tamil cinema. Among them, the artist Banumathi stands out effortlessly. She could play, sing and lead. She could write and make music. Yet even Bhanumathi played the role of Manorama in the 1963 film Arivali – an adaptation of Shakespeare The Control of the Snout . Many similar adaptations have followed over the years. The typical Tamil hero has always badumed the role of "reforming" the haughty woman. This can be the heroine or, in some cases, even the mother of the heroine! An example would be Mappillai which starred Rajinikanth in 1989 and was redone in 2011 with his step-son Dhanush. This is the story in which the hero will civilize his authoritarian mother-in-law

but it is nothing compared to other bbad representations in Tamil films. For example, criminal harbadment is not a crime, nor is domestic violence. If the hero is chasing a girl, it's because he really likes him. If he's attacking his wife or sister, it's because he wants the character in question to become a "good woman." The hero has the right to fall in love with three women at a time and to choose one to get married, but if the heroine's adventure did the same thing, she would be rejected by the hero because that she is a "cowardly" woman.

The situation is much worse for women who do not appear on the screen in the Tamil film industry. In a recent interaction with women holding unconventional jobs in Tamil cinema, I met the sound engineer Geetha Guruappa. After three decades of work, Gurappa still has producers who approach him with express doubts about his ability because of his "gender". Women who work as badistant directors are often entrusted with mundane tasks such as monitoring the continuity of the sets or checking the costumes. They have to cope with their most difficult time when the unit is shooting outdoors. In the absence of toilets, women often suffer the humiliation of asking for help from the inhabitants. The unit does not care. One of them said that the form for the directors' union did not contain any section dedicated to women.

In an industry that defends misogyny as a virtue, actively discourages women from being part of it – except when absolutely necessary – the Radha Ravis of the world are not monsters. They do not appear unexpectedly. We raise them and infants. We watch and applaud them. Yet when they become monsters of Frankenstein, we fear them. When the industry refused to listen to the actor Rohini or Chinmayi on their reserves against Radha Ravi, all the women, including Nayanthara, were shot dead. As they had been listened to, the Nayanthara attack would not have taken place.

Radha Ravi is only one symptom of a disease that has plagued the Tamil film industry for a century now. Indignation against his words is necessary but not sufficient. The discomfort is deeply rooted and to cure it, it is important to treat the illness and not the symptom.

(Kavitha Muralidharan is an independent Chennai-based journalist who writes on politics, film, and literature)