‘Neela Nira Sooriyan’ movie review: Samyuktha Vijayan’s poignant drama is a ray of hope for Tamil queer cinema
With neat performances and deft writing choices, Samyuktha Vijayan’s imperfect yet poignant ‘Neela Nira Sooriyan’ is a leap forward in the right direction for Tamil queer cinema
(Originally published in The Hindu on October 04, 2024)
In mainstream cinema, films that attempt to forge a new trail get judged on whether the experiment does justice to the themes without alienating the masses of that milieu. Queer themes — unfortunately as it may — are still considered niche. And the criteria of a ‘good’ mainstream queer drama are how accurately the queer characters are represented; whether it also speaks to the larger audiences who watch it from their cisgender-heterosexual lenses; and if it could break the notion that all issue-based queer films are melodramatic sob fests. On all that accord, Samyuktha Vijayan’s directorial debut, Neela Nira Sooriyan (Blue Sunshine), is a breath of fresh air.
For those familiar with European queer films, the story of Neela Nira Sooriyan might initially appear a tad too simple — a teacher, assigned male at birth, from a conservative backdrop, transitions into a woman. Yet, within the boundaries of this story, the writer-director manages to weave in quite a few underexplored ideas in the Tamil queer cinema space, making it a fascinating watch. The very first scene of this film shows Aravind (Samyuktha Vijayan), on a closeted journey to become Bhanu, taking steps towards perfecting voice feminization. In yet another shot, as a passing detail, we see them (Aravind’s preferred pronoun during transition isn’t clear) remove the binding off their chest, in a bid to hide breast formation, since they are still male-presenting to the world outside. Later on, when she dresses up to work as a woman for the first time, we are told that she took her time, anxiously ensuring she looks as perfect as she desires, fighting a world of dysphoria. How delicately such ideas are written deserves credit.
In mainstream cinema, films that attempt to forge a new trail get judged on whether the experiment does justice to the themes without alienating the masses of that milieu. Queer themes — unfortunately as it may — are still considered niche. And the criteria of a ‘good’ mainstream queer drama are how accurately the queer characters are represented; whether it also speaks to the larger audiences who watch it from their cisgender-heterosexual lenses; and if it could break the notion that all issue-based queer films are melodramatic sob fests. On all that accord, Samyuktha Vijayan’s directorial debut, Neela Nira Sooriyan (Blue Sunshine), is a breath of fresh air.
For those familiar with European queer films, the story of Neela Nira Sooriyan might initially appear a tad too simple — a teacher, assigned male at birth, from a conservative backdrop, transitions into a woman. Yet, within the boundaries of this story, the writer-director manages to weave in quite a few underexplored ideas in the Tamil queer cinema space, making it a fascinating watch. The very first scene of this film shows Aravind (Samyuktha Vijayan), on a closeted journey to become Bhanu, taking steps towards perfecting voice feminization. In yet another shot, as a passing detail, we see them (Aravind’s preferred pronoun during transition isn’t clear) remove the binding off their chest, in a bid to hide breast formation, since they are still male-presenting to the world outside. Later on, when she dresses up to work as a woman for the first time, we are told that she took her time, anxiously ensuring she looks as perfect as she desires, fighting a world of dysphoria. How delicately such ideas are written deserves credit.
Pride Month 2024 | Queer artistes on the stories they want to see on-screen
Neela Nira Sooriyan stands out as one of those rare queer films that are set on a rural backdrop (in Pollachi), populated by convincing characters. People in this world — no matter how little time they get — make an impression by how organically they interact with the protagonist and her situation. You see a mother (Geetha Kailasam) grapple with the reality that her son is her daughter, and that she must not call her with male pronouns. You see how it hurts Bhanu when she is deadnamed, and how…
Read the full review here: