Kerala wins big, but National Film Awards spark questions over politics and art

The 72nd National Film Awards have brought a measure of joy to Malayalam cinema, though not quite the sweep many might have hoped for. Mammootty’s towering performance in Bramayugam has deservedly earned him the Best Actor award, albeit shared with Kartik Aaryan. Vaikom Vijayalakshmi has won the National Award for Best Female Playback Singer for “Angu Vaana Konilu” from ARM. Feminichi Fathima has been chosen as the Best Malayalam Feature Film, while Bhadrakali Natakam has earned a Special Jury Mention. Together, these honours reaffirm the creative vitality of Malayalam cinema, even if they fall short of the dominance the industry has come to expect in recent years.

Yet, as the dust settles, one uncomfortable question refuses to go away. What exactly do the National Film Awards honour anymore? Cinema of lasting artistic merit or cinema that comfortably echoes the political mood of the establishment? For the second year running, the highest honour has gone to a film that is inseparable from its political messaging. While last year it was The Kerala Story, this year it is Article 370. Both films may have found an audience, and both certainly found enthusiastic political patrons. Whether they represent the finest achievements of Indian cinema is an altogether different question.

The National Film Awards derive their stature from a simple expectation. That they must stand above politics and they must reward artistic excellence without fear or favour. Once that confidence is eroded, the trophy may retain its shine, but the institution begins to lose its lustre. There is nothing objectionable about a political film winning an award. Some of the greatest films ever made have been political. The problem arises when the politics appears to matter more than the art. When films that reinforce the narrative of the government of the day repeatedly find themselves occupying the highest pedestal, the suspicion becomes inevitable. Was this the best film, or merely the most politically agreeable one? The tragedy is not that a political film has won. Political cinema has produced some of the greatest works in the history of world cinema. The tragedy is that the National Film Awards are increasingly creating the impression that ideological conformity is being mistaken for artistic excellence. The moment the country’s highest cinematic honour begins to look like an endorsement of the government’s preferred narrative, it ceases to be merely an award and becomes merely an instrument of cultural validation. That is a burden no artistic institution should be asked to carry.

Supporters would argue that Article 370 is a well-crafted film and therefore a deserving winner. That is a perfectly legitimate opinion. The problem here is not that one jury preferred one film over another, but it is the growing perception that ideological comfort has become an invisible qualification for the highest recognition in Indian cinema. Institutions do not lose credibility overnight; they lose it one questionable decision at a time.

Equally puzzling is the increasing tendency to split the biggest acting honours. Last year the Best Actor award was shared. This year, once again, it has been shared between Mammootty and Kartik Aaryan. One is among the greatest actors Indian cinema has produced, delivering a chilling and restrained performance in Bramayugam. The other delivered a commendable performance in Chandu Champion. But the National Award is not meant to be a participation certificate where everyone leaves with a smile. The purpose of a jury is to make difficult choices. Excellence demands discrimination. When the highest acting honour repeatedly becomes a compromise, it inevitably diminishes the singular prestige that once defined it. Great awards are remembered because they recognise one performance that stood above the rest. They are not meant to resemble negotiated settlements.

None of this should take away from Malayalam cinema’s achievements. Mammootty’s recognition is richly deserved. Vaikom Vijayalakshmi’s National Award is a heartening acknowledgement of an extraordinary voice. Feminichi Fathima receiving the Best Malayalam Feature Film award is another reminder that Malayalam cinema continues to produce stories rooted in humanity rather than spectacle.

But that is precisely why the larger disappointment lingers. National awards should elevate cinema, and should identify films that will endure long after the politics of the day has faded into history. Instead, they increasingly appear to validate the narratives that happen to enjoy official approval. Governments change. Ideologies rise and fall. Great cinema survives them all. The National Film Awards would do well to remember which of those they were created to honour.

(The author is a National Award winner for Best Narration and an independent political analyst. Views expressed are personal.)