We know that he’s a drunkard, a chain smoker and broke. His traits trickle out like water from damp clothes. We know little about the main character (Karuththadaiyaan excellent performance, full of wounding intensity). Vinothraj is able to elicit that effect because he relies on the Iceberg Theory: his film lies both below and above the surface, engaging not just the eyes and ears but also the mind. ![]() The final outcome doesn’t make us a voyeur but a companion: we stroll inside a foreign setting, yet feel like a native. Vinothraj leaves us alone with the characters and images – there are no voiceovers, few filmmaking cues – presenting a ravaged world unvarnished. ![]() But the magic of the film lies in the way it is told – deriving its powers from silence and visual storytelling. It almost risks being an art-house cliché: a sparse quiet drama, much like the lives of its characters, where nothing much happens. Its story can be summarised in a short sentence. Koozhangal doesn’t rely on revealing dialogues or intricate plot turns. Vinothraj P.S.’s debut, Koozhangal (Pebbles), which won the top prize at the International Film Festival Rotterdam, unfolds as a day in the life of a village, where rains have evaporated, turning farmers into hunters: they roast rats for lunch. The setting, a hamlet in Tamil Nadu, resembles a desert: barren lands, despairing trees, stale trails. The father and son barely talk they walk, and walk, and walk some more. The first half on a local bus, the other half on foot – barefoot, in punishing heat, a journey that doesn’t seem to end. ![]() A drunk man, a bleak village, a reluctant son – and a long journey to the wife’s home, asking her to return.
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