Cut! Rethinking mental health in Tamil cinema

From the confines of his self-made prison, Saji gazed out. Behind the window panes, the caged man asked for help from his younger brother, a fracture appeared in the fortress of masculinity. Later, within the serenity of a therapists office, Saji seemed to identify the chains that caged him. As he was held in a strangers compassionate embrace, it was a toxic silence that was being shattered for an entire culture to hear. This scene from the Malayalam film Kumbalangi Nights was hailed by critics and audiences alike, including in Tamil Nadu, for its ground-breaking sensitivity. It stands in stark contrast to a film like Anniyan , where a characters mental health disorder is portrayed as a catalyst for elaborate, vengeful violence. One film presents a health condition, the other, a caricature. This gap between responsible representation and harmful stereotyping defines the journey of mental health portrayals in Indian cinema and Tamil cinema, a journey that is only now beginning to correct its course. Insights on the portrayal of mental health in Tamil cinema emerged at a recent panel discussion at the Break the Silence Mental Health Art and Short Film Festival Chennai Edition. This two-day festival was hosted at the British Council, Chennai, and organised by the YRG Foundation in partnership with the British Council, SCARF, Stella Maris College, and Team Training Sideways as collaborative partners. A still from Sethu A history of harmful stereotypes For decades, the silver screen has been a cruel platform for those with mental health conditions. The problems began with confusion. Looking back, the line between mental retardation and mental ridicule was not clear. Characters were often used for comic relief, explains Dr R Mangala, joint director at the Schizophrenia Research Foundation India. This evolved into something darker. A significant shift happened in films like Sethu , where the protagonists descent into mental illness after a brutal attack was presented as the absolute end of his life. The message was that if you become mentally unwell, your life is over, says Dr Mangala. Then came the era of the psycho. Any unimaginable violence was immediately attributed to a mental health flaw, she adds. Aalavandhan featured a memorable performance by Kamal Haasan, but Dr Mangala points out its glaring inaccuracy in portraying mental illness. That kind of planned, cunning violence is not possible for someone with a severe chronic mental illness. In such movies, violence became the primary factor associated with mental health. A still from 3 This stereotyping extends beyond violence. Dr Valarmathi Subramaniam, HOD at Vels Institute Of Science Technology and Advanced Studies, draws a parallel with other lazy characterisations. In most movies, whether its 3 or others, mental illness is stereotyped the same way women or trans people are stereotyped. The film 3 , which deals with bipolar disorder, was particularly problematic. While it attempted sympathy, its portrayal suggested the male lead might harm his wife, reinforcing the dangerous myth that people with mental health conditions are inherently dangerous. The film also sensationalised treatments, showing electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) as a brutal, punitive measure rather than a controlled medical procedure. A still from Aalavandhan A wave of nuance The film industry often operates in a vacuum, isolated from the expertise that could lend authenticity. Dr Valarmathi highlights this, noting that while a director like Christopher Nolan engaged with theoretical physicists for years to ground Interstellar in scientific plausibility, such rigour is absent here. Dr Mangala has a clear, two-step rule for filmmakers. First, how much is mental health relevant to your story? Is it important to include it at all? she asks, citing the film DNA where an undiagnosable, stereotypical behaviour was irrelevant to the plot. Second, consider the impact. She recalls patients being deeply affected by films, with colleagues asking them insensitive questions based on what they had seen on screen. Despite this troubling history, a shift is perceptible. The conversation is moving from clinical illness to general wellbeing. Dr Mangala points to subtle, normalised inclusions in recent cinema, like the underlying melancholy in Kadaisi Vivasayi . We are moving towards including them as part of the normal narrative, she says. A still from Aarohanam This new approach is built on a foundation of research and empathy. Filmmaker and actress Lakshmi Ramakrishnan, whose film Aarohanam was appreciated for its sensitive portrayal of mental health, describes her process. I wrote the script and did the characterisations first, and then I started visiting doctors and experts. Her reward was a psychiatrists validation after a screening, It cannot be more accurate. For Lakshmi, the learning extended to language. When I said the character becomes violent, I was corrected. I was told to say she got into a frenzy. The word violent creates a specific picture, and its not accurate. Our own responsibility Documentary filmmaker Anand N argued that popular cinema often sidesteps the social causes of mental distress. Very few films talk about social causes how being marginalised due to caste, gender, or class creates stress that influences mental health, he said. We take the easy, dramatic route. But its much more subtle. A still from Peranbu The impact of cinema extends beyond the theatre. Composer and change maker Khatija Rahman, who scored the film Minmini , admits that the casual language of films has seeped into our own lives. What has always bothered me is the language used in films phrases like coming from your second home [a euphemism for a mental hospital]. Ive probably used jokes myself without knowing. Im also learning. This self-reflection is crucial. The words we use mental, mad, crazy, loosu are not harmless. They form the bedrock of the stigma that cinema so often reinforces. Amid the critiques, one film stands out as a beacon of what is possible. A member of the audience, a sibling caregiver themselves, highlighted Peranbu s impact. Peranbu validated a lot of my own struggles, they shared, noting its unusual focus on a father as the primary caregiver. This narrative challenges the stereotype that caregiving is solely a womans role. The film treats its subjects with profound empathy, focusing on the human experience of love and struggle rather than reducing its characters to their conditions. We hear their collective voice as a demand to stop repeating one-dimensional portrayals. If Tamil cinema commits to research, layered characters and careful storytelling, it can probably reverse the harm.