Quarterly Review of Film and Video

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Yakshi at the Crossroads: Gendering Horror and

Trauma in Malayalam Horror-Comedies

Arya Aiyappan & Johnys P. Stephen

To cite this article: Arya Aiyappan & Johnys P. Stephen (2021): Yakshi at the Crossroads:
Gendering Horror and Trauma in Malayalam Horror-Comedies, Quarterly Review of Film and
Video, DOI: 10.1080/10509208.2021.1939623

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/10509208.2021.1939623

Published online: 29 Jun 2021.

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QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO
https://doi.org/10.1080/10509208.2021.1939623

Yakshi at the Crossroads: Gendering Horror and

Trauma in Malayalam Horror-Comedies
Arya Aiyappan and Johnys P. Stephen

Anxiety, nervousness, and an unplumbed fear grip our sense of being, wak-
ing to the realization of a thrilling experience that we enjoy over and over
again. Ironically, the use of horror films to needle a “dreadful” experience
is an enduring “fascination.” Cinema’s assurance of a safe distance through
the screen interface is widely recognized for mitigating the trauma of our
multi-modal engagement with onscreen horror and violence. Nevertheless,
this positioning remains ambiguous and slippery with cinema’s latent
power to reboot and reproduce trauma!
Representations of horror through cinema range from the realistic to the
imagined across a multi-layered spectrum. Be it an apocalypse, the specter
of war, genocide, a calamity, or an upsurge of an incurable virus, films
have seized us beyond the fathomable grips of our rational sensibilities. In
the outbreak of coronavirus disease 2019, these representations become
more potent while tapping into our fear of surviving against all odds. The
boundaries of horror are ever-widening, encircling tales of possession, para-
normal events, violence, and murder unleashing an appalling array of ali-
ens, zombies, monsters, vampires, witches, and ghosts, all haunting our
perceived sense of normalcy and sanity. Psycho (Dir. Alfred Hitchcock
1960), The Exorcist (Dir. William Friedkin 1973), The Evil Dead (Dir. Sam
Raimi 1981), Aliens (Dir. James Cameron 1986), Schindler’s List (Dir.
Steven Spielberg 1993), Saving Private Ryan (Dir. Steven Spielberg 1998),
Inglourious Basterds (Dir. Quentin Tarantino 2009), The Conjuring (Dir.
James Wan 2013), Pandemic (Dir. John Suits 2016), Us (Dir. Jordan Peele
2019), and many more films have preyed on our deep-seated fears to
unearth a Freudian understanding of the “uncanny” encased within our
subconscious.
Dr Arya Aiyappan is an Assistant Professor with the Department of English and Cultural Studies, CHRIST
(Deemed to be University) Bangalore, India. Her doctoral research was on the construction of gender and cul-
tural identities vis-a-vis the politics of representation manifesting through contemporary Middle cinema in Hindi.
Indian cinema, specifically Middle cinema and Malayalam cinema, together with an understanding of gender
representation has been her prime focus. She has published several articles and two books in the field of Film
Studies and has completed a monograph on the Malayalam filmmaker P Padmarajan with the National Film
Archives of India, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Pune.
Johnys P. Stephen is a post-graduate student at CHRIST (Deemed to be University), Bangalore, India. A passion-
ate film researcher, his primary focus is on film history and an understanding of critical reception. He is an aspir-
ing filmmaker and has a few short films like Amico to his credit under his direction banner.
ß 2021 Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
2 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

The term “horror” signifies concentrated feelings of shock, fear, and

revulsion. The disquieting images feed on our anxiety and curiosity about
the unknown, despite being fabricated representations. The thrills we enjoy
are interlinked to an unsettling experience of trauma impinging on our
emotional and psychological notions of the self and the world. Cinema vis-
ualizes the unknowable and the imagined, circulating them back into the
social discourse. Manifesting as a disturbing involvement, the genre has led
to many viewers experiencing cinematic neurosis, “a psychological crisis
through exposure to a film” (Ballon and Leszcz 2007, 211). Initiated as sub-
tle uneasiness to visible anxieties, physical inconveniencies, psychotic com-
plications, and alienation, many a spectator has reeled under the weight of
an incomprehensible trauma. Within the ambit of trauma theory, horror
films mediate as narratives probing into our conflicts concerning separ-
ation, loss, isolation, and identity crisis. The narrative elements resonate
with the viewer’s state of mind and life experiences together with the social,
political, and cultural aspects.
Over the ages, horror films have mutated into different subgenres—even
interweaving horror and comedy! We become terrified by bone-chilling
scenes only to laugh heartily the next moment. Horror-comedy as an oxy-
moron, seemingly an odd pair, works magic. The interlacing of comedy
into horror has carefully navigated the presumed friction into a unique
fusion. An American Werewolf in London (Dir. John Landis 1981), Army of
Darkness (Dir. Sam Raimi 1992), The Cabin in the Woods (Dir. Drew
Goddard 2011), Shaun of the Dead (Dir. Edgar Wright 2004), Tucker and
Dale vs Evil (Dir. Eli Craig 2010), and One Cut of the Dead (Dir.
Shin’ichiro Ueda 2017) are among a long list of horror-comedies that have
engagingly juxtaposed the two genres in varying degrees and modes.
Horror and horror-comedy—where do we draw the line? However sub-
jective these labels may seem, academic interpretations in the West make
room for nuanced differentiation of horror and horror-comedy. A horror
film without a doubt is nerve-rackingly terrifying in its representation of
horror, with no space for comedy. In contrast, a horror-comedy attempts a
deeper engagement with comedy as a pronounced aspect to facilitate an
emotive shift from the frightening to the humorous on a timely basis.
Interestingly, Indian cinema’s reading of genre classification is at odds
with that of the West. Accommodating genre-bending and fluidity, Indian
cinema’s differentiation between horror and horror-comedy remains por-
ous. The distinction between horror and horror-comedy varies according
to the intensity and not in terms of the absence of comedy. The nomencla-
tures work based on the predominant mood, emotion, and intent to which
the individual film caters and is accordingly typified as horror or horror-
comedy. Therefore, inevitably, room exists for comedy, music, and dance
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 3

in a horror film! Undoubtedly, when the box office numbers and the
“complete entertainment” tag are the governing dictums, these fusions are
never inappropriate. Malayalam cinema, a prominent and critically
acknowledged regional cinema in India, is no exception to this rule.
Scanning through Malayalam horror films brings us across three iconic
ghost representations – the Yakshi, the Pretham, and the Bhootham.
Malayalam cinema’s configuration of these iconic representations differs
from those conceptualized in the West. Malayalam cinema initiated the
horror genre representing the ghost as a Yakshi, “the monstrous feminine”
(Jose 2016, 84). She is indisputably the spiteful feminine principle with an
insatiable thirst for avenging the sufferings that she endured in life and
death, Pretham is a unisex term designating a spirit, harmful or otherwise,
whereas Bhootham often signifies a mischievous yet loving and helping
genie, predominantly male.
Despite mutations of the horror genre into horror-comedies that have
conferred positive connotations on the Pretham and the Bhootham over
time, the Yakshi still trapped in her monstrosity. The current article probes
this monochromatic construction to understand how these representations
work, why the Yakshi is denied a positive makeover, and what happens to
both the characterization and the genre when humor is interspersed. The
choice of the films coincides with the initiation of comedy into the horror
genre in Malayalam cinema through Aayushkalam (Dir. Kamal 1992). A
cartographic reading of select Malayalam horror-comedies and horror films
that have consciously incorporated humor, together with its characteriza-
tion of the Yakshi, helps unravel the power paradigms posed through the
genre juxtapositions and the experience of trauma it begets. As a psycho-
logical term moved to social and cultural realms, “trauma” warrants the
need for comprehending these intersecting spheres. The horror–comedy
transaction impinges on questions revolving around the sociocultural nego-
tiations of the identity of the Yakshi compared with that of the Pretham
and the Bhootham, the complementary industry–audience interactions, the
multi-layered effects of trauma, and the coping mechanisms operating
within the social fabric.
Fear emanates from a sense of threat to our existence. “Neurocinematics”
foregrounds the connection between the mind and the experience of view-
ing a horror film, interpreting how the film triggers distinctive emotional
responses. Often a threat is experienced by a character, not the viewer. An
experience of trauma connects to both the character and the viewer, each
being equally trapped by the threat. Understanding the nature and impact
of trauma as “reality” with a distinctive language of its own is important to
recognize as social, and therefore collective.
4 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

Horror cinema with its incumbent iconographies rooted in a cultural

ethos resonates quickly with the viewing public of that culture. Contrary to
the lay trauma theory, which considers trauma as naturally occurring, the
trauma of horror is socioculturally rooted, spiraling through numerous rep-
resentations as “art horror” (Mubarki 2016, 22). Horror trauma reinstates
the relevance of reading the Yakshi myth within the sphere of Malayalam
cinema, Kerala culture, and its social structure. Intriguing as it may seem,
the Yakshi as an iconic representation reigns over every Malayalee’s cul-
tural consciousness, which this cinema repeatedly projects to the extent of
inflicting “cultural trauma.” Exploring this cultural icon inevitably necessi-
tates an understanding of the positioning of Yakshi in Malayalam horror
cinema across time, engendering several permutations and combinations
such as horror-comedies.
The oft-attempted reading of comedy and horror as “opposite sides of
the same coin” (Carroll 1999, 146) is unsatisfactory because of the subject-
ive definitions of each. Interestingly, a character’s horrifying experience
may resound with some among the audience whereas others laugh when
an onscreen character suffers a terrifying experience. The problem is with
our stringent value judgements categorizing comedy as positive and horror
as negative when the binaries are themselves fluid. In contrast, horror-com-
edy incorporates moments to offer respite from stress. Spectators experi-
ence both fear and relief respectively based on the yoking of the two.
Horror and humor are premised on the principle of extremes. The
sequence of the “build-up” or “setup” and the subsequent “payoff” or
“release” being timed at the most opportune moment is the logic governing
these individual genres. Both genres set up a moment and build the tempo
with perfect timing to ensure a befitting payoff. If in horror the anticipated
payoff is screaming and trembling in fear, humor instead calls for a hearty
laugh. In a horror-comedy, the duo work in unison when the audiences
engrossed in a horrifying or humorous scene are caught unaware to experi-
ence the opposite. Horror and comedy together execute the “setup” and the
“release.” This relationship becomes significant in our gendered reading of
horror-comedies, the impact of trauma, and its associated coping mecha-
nisms. These perspectives help explore “how” and “why” Malayalam hor-
ror-comedies employ humor and construct and propagate specific gendered
identities, bearing on both the individual and the society.
Horror films are delineated through the presence of a specific character
type whose existence is negated within the fields of established domains of
knowledge, which exclude the horrors of war and other catastrophic cir-
cumstances. The article focuses on art horror, with films centering on
ghosts. The representations of ghosts emanating from our social conscious-
ness and cultural imagination probe questions surrounding the unknown.
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 5

Several films have graced the silver screen featuring male and female
ghosts. If the predominant trope of sadistic pleasure is centered on the
ghosts preying on their victims; the female ghosts have an earmarked
agenda for their return. The trope of “unfinished business” has pulled her
back to avenge her troublesome past and painful death. The characteriza-
tion of the male and female ghosts in a distinctive cultural context orches-
trates a set of concerns, fashioning discourses that lend themselves toward
reading back into the social fabric.
Kerala has nurtured and challenged many movements and ideologies
through its cinema. Interestingly Malayalam cinema has held its position
firm as inspiringly progressive with an affirmed belief that audiences in
Kerala are more realistically attuned. The film industry enmeshed in a
reciprocal relation between production and reception presents a contradict-
ory picture. The projected ideal of “rationally plausible” as the prevailing
logic does not sync with the preferred genre of melodrama. Claims to
experimentation and rationality must be revisited in the light of Malayalam
horror films and horror-comedies. To connect with the passionate movie-
goers, film makers have tried both time-tested and novel ways of represen-
tation. We position the article at this juncture for interpreting Malayalam
horror-comedies. To comprehend the gender equations concerning horror,
comedy, and trauma, the discussion focuses on the Yakshi compared with
the Pretham and the Bhootham.
The Yakshi myth is one among the larger “sociocultural narratives” of
Kerala, which has facilitated much meaning-making and shaped several dis-
courses. The Yakshi cult dates to the cultural borrowings from Buddhism
and Jainism, which revered her as a benevolent spirit. The concept of the
supernatural that is despised by the upper castes in Kerala found ready
acceptance among the lower castes. Yakshi residing in the Kavu (sacred
grove) was soon deemed a nature spirit by everyone. Over time, the con-
cept of Yakshi took on negative connotations as the merciless avenging spi-
rit of a woman (particularly lower caste) who was tortured to death.
Popular culture has given widespread currency to this conceptualization
through repeated representations. Films have widened the gulf by propagat-
ing the binaries, the Devi (Goddess) and the Yakshi—the divine and
the diabolic.
Yakshi is an enchanting mythical feminine spirit springing from the
Kerala folk traditions. Construed to be an anthropomorphized demon
driven by the sole urge for revenge, Yakshi seeks redressal for her torturous
death. She wanders around forlorn places preying on lost travelers, entreat-
ing them with favors. Through viciously contrived mind games she lures
the man to her dwelling on the pretext of seeking betel leaf and lime.
Connoting irrepressible Kama (sexual desire), Yakshi enjoys moments of
6 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

amorous pleasure with her prey only to pierce her fangs deep into his
neck, seizing the life mercilessly. Synonymous with dread, she unleashes
“hostile aggression” to procure pleasure through the harm she inflicts
(Niyas, “The Female Abject in Malayalam Horror Films” 2010). In a fit of
fury, she is believed to devour his flesh leaving behind traces of his hair,
teeth, and nails at the palm tree. Occasionally repressed and disciplined
through exorcism, the Yakshi is nailed to the Kanjiram tree (snake tree)
until she is set free by chance (Meenu 2020, 329 330). The backstory of a
benevolent spirit who fell from grace unlocks ways to analyze the nexus of
religion, caste, and gender that shape popular representations. Yakshi
myths are “ideological apparatuses that contained rebellion and resistance”
(Mathew 2014, 1).
The Yakshi myth is entrenched in Kerala’s history of Marumakkathayam
(matrilineal system) in the 11th century when agricultural and land owner-
ship rights entailed the adoption of matrilocal structures. This system was
in vogue until the early 20th century when the British legally abolished the
system. Marumakkathayam and Sambandham (contractual marital rela-
tions) in conjunction with caste hierarchy, dictated social relations.
Namboothiris (Brahmins), the religiously superior landed gentry, wielded
supreme power in the social order. Among them, only the eldest son could
marry from within the caste community. For the other Namboothiri men,
Sambandham with the lower caste Shudra women, Nairs, or Ambalavasis
was the order of the day. To protect their privileged land ownership rights,
these sambandhams were always conceived beyond the domain of kinship.
Deemed the spirit of a lower caste woman whose sexuality was maligned,
Yakshi suffered extreme injustice and had an unnatural death at the hands
of these Brahmanical patriarchal structures.
The Yakshi myth through years of perpetuation has become a “cultural
trauma” as described here: “members of a collectivity feel they have been
subjected to a horrendous event that leaves indelible marks on their group
consciousness, marking their memories forever and changing their future
identity in fundamental and irrevocable ways” (Alexander 2004, 1). The
phrase “cultural trauma” as an expression is intrinsically tied to the wider
angle of societal accountability within its framework, foregrounding trauma
as a social construct. Malayalam cinema has amply cashed in on the Yakshi
myth, recreating it in many forms and ever playing out the politics behind
it, explicitly or implicitly. She is never completely domesticated, for “by
destroying the competition, we negate an important means against which
the self is defined and enhanced” (Dempsey 2005, 127). Horror-comedies
become a case in point.
A cursory survey draws up a nominal list of 73 horror films made
between 1964 and 2020. Tracking the noticeable dip in the Malayalam film
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 7

industry’s inclination toward making intense horror films tacitly explains

why comedy was appropriated into horror. Publicity material for
Malayalam commercial cinema, be it posters, advertisements, or trailers,
repeatedly foreground the phrase, “family entertainer.” Family, the social
institution holds prime significance for all Malayalees as the backbone of
the society. The ideology of “family entertainment” with the right mix of
comedy, romance, action, drama, and melodrama, catering to the members
of the family, has been the time-tested reliable strategy attracting the view-
ing public to the theaters. Filmmaker Ranjith Sankar (of Pretham fame,
which he directed in 2016) makes a pertinent observation of horror-com-
edy as “a very popular, commercially-viable genre” (“Just for Chills” 2016)
that explains the importance of the market feelers. Publicizing a film genre
as horror or horror-comedy makes clear room for factoring in audiences’
expectations, acceptance, and potential box office success. Therefore, the
need to ensure that the audiences are not traumatized has been a
prerequisite.
Yakshippadangal (Yakshi films), Prethappadangal (Pretham films) and
Bhoothappadangal (Bhootham films) are terms used in informal parlance,
although research in Malayalam cinema makes a pronounced use “horror
films” as the prevalent terminology. It is pertinent that we use the term
“horror-comedy” rather than “Yakshi film” or to otherwise make the
rationale governing the choice of films clear. The term “horror-comedy”
does not factor in those horror films that incorporate humor as a mere
add-on, in some scenes alone. As an auxiliary element, humor does not
mediate to equalize horror through the length and breadth of the films. In
contrast, horror-comedies (featuring a Yakshi, Pretham or Bhootham)
make a marked effort to reconcile the diametrical opposites—chilling hor-
ror and comforting comedy. Consequently, the plausible delineation of
Bhargavi Nilayam (Dir. A. Vincent 1964) with a few comic scenes in a pre-
dominantly horror film and Aayushkalam with its balanced blending of
humor and horror explains their categorization as horror film and horror-
comedy, respectively. Mapping Malayalam horror-comedies according to
the specific horror character type portrayed, helps examine the nature and
impact of humor along with horror and the resulting trauma through mul-
tiple lenses. The impact, negotiation, and moderation of trauma become
important in the context of our encounter with these distinctive characters
on screen in different horror-comedies.
Malayalam cinema from Bhargavi Nilayam to Aakasha Ganga 2 (Dir.
Vinayan 2019), horror to horror-comedies, have promoted the Yakshi way
beyond the Pretham and the Bhootham. Smoky and windy night, hazy for-
est, eerie sounds, an apparition clad in white with cascading black locks
vanishing past us in a jiffy while enchanting us with the captivating
8 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

Figure 1. The stereotypical seductive Yakshi in Aakasha Ganga (1999).

fragrance of jasmine or pala flowers (devil’s tree) are spot-on codes to

promptly behold the lurking presence of a Yakshi onscreen (Figure 1).
Delving into the creation of the Yakshi divulges the deep-seated anxieties
clouding the Malayalee’s consciousness entrenched in the patriarchal and
caste stratifications. Tales foreground our cultural apprehensions of
encountering the “unknown” or the “other.” Yakshi, the “un-dead” occu-
pies a liminal space between life and death. Never the docile submissive
woman disciplined by patriarchy, her “monstrousness in the cultural
imagination is a result of the modernizing project of gendering in Kerala”
(Jose 2016, 4), an antithesis to the ideal Malayalee woman. The patriarchal
society projects its fears and anxieties surrounding sexuality and agency
onto her. Her body, the site of resistance together with her un-dead iden-
tity topples all binaries that operate in the society. Eventually, through
exorcism, hegemonic masculinity strikes back in retaliation to maintain the
status quo. Recurrently Malayalam horror cinema has appropriated this
narrative to allay the horror of her menacing return onscreen ensuring
“normalcy” is reinstated in society.
Exploring the construction of the Yakshi compared with the Pretham
and the Bhootham in Malayalam horror-comedies lays bare the implicit
connections to power relations operating in the society and the negotiation
of trauma. From Bhargavi Nilayam, the first horror film, to Aayushkalam,
the first horror-comedy, films have portrayed the demonic Yakshi as con-
trolling and controlled through possession, black magic, and exorcism. Lisa
(Dir. A. G. Baby 1978), Kalliyankattu Neeli (Dir. M. Krishnan Nair 1979),
Sreekrishna Parunthu (Dir. A Vincent 1984), and many more among the
earlier horror films depicted an unforgiving Yakshi, never a compassionate
and happy spirit. For the first time in Malayalam cinema, Aayushkalam
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 9

Figure 2. The friendly Pretham in Aayushkalam (1992).

blended humor and horror into a winning concoction, narrating the saga
of friendship between a man and a Pretham (a male ghost). Biting into our
unnerving feelings of unfamiliarity, the “gentlemanly” Pretham and his
cheerful good-mindedness bridges the emotional gulf between him and the
viewer (Figure 2). That the Pretham indulges in humorous conversations
and gestures, humanizes him, weakening the impact of trauma. Depicting
him as a fun-loving male spirit is an attempt to mitigate any shock and
underscore the gender differentiations between a Yakshi and a Pretham.
The oft-repeated fear-inducing close-up shots of the evil incarnate Yakshi
in many a film is no match to the medium shots of the affable and endear-
ing Pretham. To initiate humor, a male Pretham is brought in, which is
not entrusted to the Yakshi, owing to her established propensity toward
monstrosity. The success of Aayushkalam was a trailblazer for many more
humor–horror interventions in Malayalam horror cinema. Comedy became
Malayalam cinema’s new antidote to a horrifying experience.
Manichitrathazhu (Dir. Fazil 1993), a gripping psychological horror film
makes room for both situational and expression-based comedies, together
with specifically planned comic scenes that sidestep many cliches associated
with horror films. Acclaimed as a classic for its compelling representation
of horror, the film redefined its engagement with the genre conceptualiza-
tions. The depiction of horror is intense, but the humor makes its claim, a
not-so-popularized angle of reference. Every character is introduced
through a humorous situation, slowly scaling up the horror angle. These
associations help dispel any potential threat the mind draws while identify-
ing a character in anticipation of the professed genre: horror. The humor
linkage is reassuring as we travel with the character. When a horrifying
10 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

scene leaves the spectator palpitating, a sudden humorous dialogue breaks

the moment. Mixing humor, the horror is rendered palpable, but not dam-
aging. Nestled in the haunted Madambi tharavadu (ancestral house) are
myths and superstitions clouding Nagavalli’s ceaseless thirst for retribution.
When Madambi beckons us with its door ajar and a chair rocking to an
eerie background score, the frantic call, “Rajappo … Raghavo” by Unnithan
(the popular comedian Innocent) cuts through the conventional codes of a
horror film, evoking laughter. His panic call has gained currency as a
popular hilarious expression of helplessness in a lonely place. The setup
and the payoff are perfectly timed, emotionally displacing an intensely trau-
matic experience for the audiences through comic juxtaposition.
Nagavalli is not the typical white-clad Yakshi roving about Madambi and
its vicinity. Using the psychological perspective of internalization and
empathy, the professed attempt is to view Nagavalli–Ganga bonding
through a scientific framework. However, Ganga’s empathetic identification
with the battered court dancer Nagavalli of yesteryear plays out the
class–caste hierarchies structuring the Kerala society. The depiction of an
unforgiving and merciless spirit haunting the forbidden thekkini at
Madambi feeds into the Yakshi myth entrenched in the social ethos. The
build-up on confronting her spirit injects an unsettling fear clouding the
consciousness of the characters and the audiences alike. Her merciless char-
acterization is in stark contrast to the jovial Pretham in Aayushkalam, lay-
ing bare society’s perpetuation of gender differences. Nagavalli’s inability to
jest is indicative of the gender pigeonholing thrust upon these feminine
representations and circulated back into the social discourse. The Yakshi
trope imposed on her typifies society’s fear to behold an “undomesticated”
feminine principle whose moral vicissitudes pose a threat to institutional-
ized patriarchy. Noel Carroll’s explanation of monsters as not completely
the “other” rather “contortions performed upon the known” (1990, 166)
becomes relevant in the vicious conceptualization of Nagavalli along the
lines of a Yakshi.
Malayalam horror-comedies to mitigate the trauma of horror have incor-
porated slapstick comedy as stopgaps (Mayilpeelikkavu [Dir. Anil Babu
1998]) or visibly alternated a long horror scene with a comic one (Aakasha
Ganga [Dir. Vinayan 1999]). The narrative structuring of Aakasha Ganga
propels audiences to a high point of fear when a comic intercession brings
them back to comfortable normalcy. Shunning the emotionally draining
effects of horror affirms the industry’s deep-seated knowledge of its target
audiences and their expectations from a film. The romantic tale of posses-
sion and exorcism popularizes the avenging Yakshi beyond imagination.
The lower caste maid’s insatiable thirst to avenge her excruciating death
has propelled her return as Yakshi wreaking havoc on everyone. The
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 11

Figure 3. Humor alongside horror in Aakasha Ganga (1999).

cinematography ideologically positions her as a vicious icon through

extreme close-ups, tracking shots, and unconventional subjective camera
angles. By isolating her, audiences identify with the camera eye and shud-
der in abominable fear. She unleashes her rage hurling people around
amplifying our fear, only to witness characters rolling and bumping against
each other, culminating in a hilarious scene (Figure 3). Long shots shift the
focus onto these characters’ histrionics as they wriggle out of her threat
unscathed. The Yakshi lurks in the background as a performer whose evil-
ness is beyond redemption, but the humorous intervention lessens the fear
nullifying the repercussion of her performance. Unfortunately, it remains a
mere performance of horror in which humor is never her forte! Comedy is
primarily handled by the male characters, always distancing the Yakshi as
one incapable of enjoying any moment of humor.
In the new millennium, the Pretham (a spirit typified as male in the
film) instead of the archetypal Yakshi was again brought to the screen
through the romantic horror film Devadoothan (Dir. Sibi Malayil 2000).
The fact that this film failed at the box office becomes a working example
to scrutinize audiences’ reception and the approach toward horror films.
The film’s engaging treatment of horror marked by an absence of organic
humor explains why Malayalee audiences failed to warm to this film.
Audiences in Kerala were least prepared to enjoy the thrills of fear unmedi-
ated through humor. The occasional slapstick interventions, unfortunately,
persist as serrated attempts never coalescing with the larger theme of hor-
ror. A determined diffidence toward immersing themselves in a traumatiz-
ing horror in contrast to the winning formula of a family entertainer
explains the verdict in Kerala. Gender politics are self-evident presenting a
tolerant and considerate male spirit, not blinded by the purpose of his
12 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

Figure 4. The monstrous Yakshi in Meghasandesam (1982).

return. Unlike the Yakshi trapped in her demonic self, the Pretham is con-
siderably positive and more humanized in portrayal.
The interlacing of comic scenes in Meghasandesam (Dir. Rajasenan
2001) and Vellinakshatram (Dir. Vinayan 2004), romantic tales of
revenge, was the assured formula, despite lacking a well-knit story. If
Meghasandesam presented a Yakshi’s unrequited love and jealousy
(Figure 4), Vellinakshatram intensified horror through the depiction of a
possessed child indulging in strange activities at the behest of a Yakshi.
Through the reaction of those at the receiving end, gripping horror is
metamorphosed into humor, leaving the Yakshi as the only spiteful one.
In Vellinakshatram, the possessed child Ammu seizes her uncle
Kuttikrishnan by his throat to silence him; then the scene instantly leaps
into lighthearted comedy. A low-angle shot of Kuttikrishnan thrust atop
the palace roof, crying for help, albeit hilariously breaks any link with
the horrifying. The audiences are cushioned out of the dreadful experi-
ence through humor, with the camera angles accelerating an emotional
glide from repulsion to relief. Mindful of not traumatizing the family
audiences who are accustomed to the portrayal of children as nothing
but innocent or naughty, comedy was the safest bet. Freud’s identifica-
tion of the “uncanny” accounting for our fear and Kristeva’s notion of
the “abject” explaining feelings of disgust and loathsomeness match the
construction of the Yakshi image. The humorous mediation eventually
ends up barricading the Yakshi within her evil self, with no respite.
Society’s power systems trap her within the demonic identity signifying
the deviant feminine that is eventually controlled through institutional-
ized patriarchy and religion.
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 13

A parallel reading of the horror-comedy In Ghost House Inn (Dir. Lal)

and the horror thriller Dhrona (Dir. Shaji Kailas), which both graced the
screens in 2010, become important reference points in our focus on how
horror-comedies intercede the effect of trauma. While the former film
ruled the roost, the latter made a silent exit from the theaters. As a sequel
to two popular comedies, In Ghost House Inn impressed upon the acknowl-
edged fanbase the larger framed narrative of humor accommodating hor-
ror. The gang of four men courting trouble to be eventually resolved in a
humorous vein was established beyond doubt, preempting any genre
expectations, even be it horror. With an indicative title but expectations
correctly placed, In Ghost House Inn consistently foregrounded Yakshi’s
presence through conventional stereotypes.
Every time the audiences wait with bated breath to behold the Yakshi,
the men and their witty mannerisms ease the mood. When lightning and
thunder strike in all fury, driving the characters and the audiences to the
brink of fear, a quick dialogue or a funny gesture switches the emotion.
The association works through close-up shots of the three brave men shud-
dering in fear, while their naive friend Appukuttan snores away blissfully.
He dreams of an Oscar award photoshoot when lightning strikes in all
fury. Ironically, the close-up shots customarily used to intensify the
Yakshi’s evilness reverse the outcome in this scene. Through the right setup
and payoff, the film enjoyed wide acceptance alhough it worked the oppos-
ite direction infusing horror into the larger framework of comedy. The
humor is worked among the men, and the Yakshi never partakes of it.
With a definitive focus on the male characters, the Yakshi no longer domi-
nates the screen space; estranged more through visually dramatized humor.
The film must be read alongside Dhrona, a well-crafted horror thriller. In
keeping with the horror genre, as much as the narrative was frightening,
extreme horror scenes did not find a perfect balance with comedy as the
stress buster. All for the want of organic humor, Dhrona’s electrifying hor-
ror failed to negotiate the trauma as shown by In Ghost House Inn.
Nevertheless, both films exploited the evil Yakshi symbol as a make-believe
character pointing toward the abominable identity conferred upon her.
In the same line as In Ghost House Inn, Adi Kapyaare Koottamani (Dir.
John Varghese 2015) revolves around a gang of boys concocting the story
of a Yakshi haunting their hostel as a ploy to help their friend Lakshmi
escape unnoticed. The Yakshi myth is the frame story built into the hostel’s
history, circumscribing the riotous tale of scheming and confusion.
Conceptualized as a full-length comedy, horror is integrated toward the
end. Unlike horror films that highlight Yakshi’s proclivity toward evil, the
film invests considerable screen time on the consequences characters face
on reckoning the hostel as haunted. She treads the fringes of the narrative
14 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

space with the camera fixated on the humor ensuing from the characters’
reactions to their alleged encounter with her. The lens dramatizes their
inane follies and the consequent mayhem than grant her the freedom to
shock the audiences.
Blurring the boundary between the real and the imagined, the
humor–horror divide is rendered progressively hazy. It is in tandem with
endorsing the idea of both horror and comedy working through extremes.
The Ouija board, blood spurts in the corridors, and an ominous face fading
away instill nerve-wracking fear when concurrent cuts to the boys’ enthusi-
astic execution of their plan allay our tensions. The ambiguity between the
real and the fabricated makes the horrifying more porous, muddling the
margins between both. Adi Kapyaare Koottamani is a perfect example of
the transition in Malayalam horror films from “secure” horror to
“paranoid” horror post-2010. If the “secure” horror ensures a safe world at
the end through human intervention to exorcize the ghost, then “paranoid”
horror fogs the borders to endorse a chaotic world around us where com-
plete safety is only a chimera (Tudor 1989, 216–217). The narrative draws
to a close, clearing the confusions, but an indistinct yet intimidating pres-
ence in the backdrop leaves us in paranoid horror where “being safe” is an
illusion. We are caught between the real Yakshi and the make-believe and
are unable to draw the line. In such circumstances, comedy alone can
defuse the fortified walls of chilling horror and trauma.
Situational comedies coupled with the counter-dialogues amplified the
success of the horror-comedy Pretham (Dir. Ranjith Sankar 2016).
Alternating dialogues and counter-dialogues around crazy situations tone
down the emotional shock. The film promoted the savvy image of the
tech-Yakshi in sync with the information technology boom. Pretham pro-
vides the pivot to root the article around the different ideologies structur-
ing the terminologies of “Yakshi” and “Pretham.” To dispel the mentalist’s
hesitancy in acknowledging the presence of a female ghost in the resort,
she performs acts of horror to intimidate him. Convincing him of her pro-
pensity to be vindictive partakes of the society’s Yakshi construct, the
“deviant other.” But with the narrative progressing toward identifying the
culprits behind her death, she is never deemed the blood-thirsty Yakshi but
only a Pretham seeking justice. The film subtly nails the ideologies into
clear fashioned binaries, the Yakshi and the Pretham. The natural inclin-
ation to evil tags the Yakshi, the maleficent feminine other. If that is taken
away, she does not have any other marketable identification. The terminol-
ogies are clear, endorsing society’s power nexus in perpetuating the Yakshi
figure wedged within her negativity .
If the Yakshi never jokes and the Pretham enjoys humor, the Bhootham
outwits both as the fun-loving helping spirit. My Dear Kuttichathan (Dir.
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 15

Figure 5. The fun-loving Bhootham from Ee Pattanathil Bhootham (2009).

Jijo Punnoose 1984) catapulted the Kuttichathan (the little demon) to fame
among children and elders alike. Sakshal Sreeman Chathunni (Dir. Anil
Babu 1993) and Ee Pattanathil Bhootham (Dir. Johny Antony 2009) ren-
dered the Bhootham as mischievous in a friendly way but lending a helping
hand to everyone. He plays around with children and takes immense pleas-
ure in the simple activities of life and living. Humor is evoked through the
gestures, mannerisms, and dialogues of the Bhootham throughout the
length and breadth of these films (Figure 5). Trapped by Manthravadis
(exorcists), they yearn for freedom from eternal bondage. Unlike the
Yakshi, revenge is hardly the motif of these genie-like characters. Male
ghosts as Prethams or Bhoothams with their well-meaning intentions are
hardly spiteful; instead, compassion is their hallmark. Yakshi, as the evil
personified, hardly enjoys this privilege of an alternate representation.
The fear of patriarchy to unreservedly welcome—let alone acknow-
ledge—matriliny as an alternate social order is mirrored through the
Yakshi trope. It runs as both a parallel and a counter-narrative to the
Kerala conventions intertwined with gender and caste. She is the supreme
feminist principle reviving female power to topple the patriarchal power
relations. It echoes society’s anxiety to accept the image of a solitary
woman and therefore typecasts her as vicious. The patriarchal system in
Kerala is blessed with this construct to point to a deviant feminine. Yakshi
works as a commendable and easy ploy to fasten negative attributes to a
female ghost or spirit, which otherwise cannot be attributed to real women
in society. This construct corroborates Herbert Marcuse’s idea of “surplus
repression” suggestive of certain social conditions being sustained to pro-
mote relationships of domination. It thrives in our collective mindfulness
that a Yakshi can never defend her stand as can other socially marginalized
groups who speak against repressive representations. The tried and tested
16 A. AIYAPPAN AND J.P. STEPHEN

formula of exorcism brings about an overarching feeling of relief emanating

from the narrative closure reinstating the status quo in the society. The
inadvertent domination through male power runs parallel to the narrative
of exorcism, rendering her powerless.
In this context, horror-comedy mediates as another potent mode to curb
the trauma of being overpowered by unchecked femininity. The feminine
principle initially rendered “deviant” through the conceptualization and
visualization of the evil Yakshi figure is subsequently further estranged
through humor. The most important aspect is that in laughing
at something:
We are recognizing that the elements of the joke themselves are worthy of
questioning, or at least lack overt or clear congruency. Relatedly, when we laugh at
something horrifying, it is meant to relieve the emotional build up of horror and
lead towards acceptance of what we do not and cannot understand. (Manuel
2013, 14)

We laugh at our helplessness in understanding and bringing to an end

those who threaten us. The laughter is indicative of us either acknowledg-
ing that the horrifying does not persist or admitting our inability to tackle
it. The very act of laughing at her is to further “other” the “Other,” thus
rendering her ineffective and warding off any traumatic possibility of
thwarting the patriarchal power relations. Resistance is the marked feature
of this acceptance, by laughing right at the face of the menacing horror. It
is the key to bring in relief from the wounding horror that poses a threat
to society. In contrast are horror films such as Bhargavi Nilayam, in which
characters laugh at their predicaments and misunderstandings. In this film
the lack of awareness by Cheriya Pareekkanni (veteran comedian Adoor
Bhasi) regarding Yakshi’s presence to the point of complete ignorance pins
together the humorous scenes. Insulated from the comic scenes, the Yakshi
persists a threat lurking in the background, never laughed at.
Modern social apparatuses forestall threats in multifarious ways, and com-
edy is appropriated as a powerful weapon to tackle the collective trauma of
the society. Humor wielded through horror-comedies works in consonance
with the philosophical approaches. Laughter emerges due to an incongruity
contradicting our expectations as the horrifying events unfold. Pain is the
subtext that underlies every humorous episode—laughing at someone’s pain.
Yakshi never enjoys simple humor, save for sadistic pleasure, but
Bhootham and Pretham participate and enjoy humorous moments. The
superiority principle subtly colors the horror-comedies along the axis of
gender. In both the situations, men and masculinity are positioned a rung
above the feminine by sheer virtue of their ability to laugh at and laugh
out the terrifying horror, Yakshi. Deconstructing the popular value judg-
ment pitting positive humor against negative horror, horror-comedy
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 17

extends a different connotation of “humor.” Endorsing the male superiority

to the viewing public through laughter becomes cloaked beneath the humor
itself. Audiences in turn laugh at those laughing at the horror!
It must be acknowledged that although horror-comedy as a winning
combo has scripted several success stories, there were films such as
Pakalppooram (Dir. Anil Kumar 2002) and Manthrikan (Dir. Anil 2012)
that failed to make a successful mark at the box office. Repetition has
spawned boredom. However, exceptions to every rule exist. Ezra (Dir.
Jayakrishnan 2017) promoted as the “purest horror movie” (Shahbaz 2019)
seized the changing Malayalee consciousness through its spellbinding hor-
ror sans comedy, despite the term “horror film” remaining a contradiction
in the context of Malayalam cinema genres. As a game-changer, the male
Pretham portrayed as violent and harmful had to be exorcized and calmed.
Correspondingly Koode (Dir. Anjali Menon 2018) depicted a cheerful and
compassionate female spirit as a Pretham, but not the Yakshi.
Humor is indeed a powerful weapon leaving the Yakshi stranded at the
crossroads. She remains the evil symbol wreaking havoc, never salvaged
from the negative shades. Popular films rehash this image endlessly secur-
ing it in our ethos. Humor aggravates the injury, disarming her of any pre-
sumed threat by laughing at her to other her! Contemporary society is
neither bogged down by the Yakshi trope nor inclined to deconstruct it.
Deep-seated refusal to accommodate the bold feminine accounts for the
reluctance to characterize the Yakshi in a way other than how it was con-
ceptualized by the Brahmanical patriarchal society decades ago. Doubly
marginalized, the hyperreal Yakshi straddles a liminal space with no voice
to reclaim her lost glory!

ORCID
Arya Aiyappan http://orcid.org/0000-0002-9908-5010

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