Karthik Subbaraj’s Dorothy has triggered a debate that goes beyond whether the film is good or bad. The Keerthy Suresh-starrer deals with LGBTQ+ identity, friendship, social prejudice and the lives of people who are often treated differently by society. While many viewers have appreciated the film, a section of social media users has criticised its LGBTQ+ representation and called for a boycott. Much of the debate has centred on a dialogue: ‘Innum 10 varshathula naanga dhaan normal, indha ooru ungala dhaan kevalama paakum’ — ‘In another ten years, we will be the norm, and this town will look down on you.‘ Some have understood the dialogue as an attack on heterosexual people, while others see it as a comment on how social attitudes can change over time.
There is an important difference between disagreeing with a film and objecting to the very presence of a particular kind of character or story. Cinema has always reflected changes in society. Over the years, films have spoken about caste, widowhood, inter-caste relationships, domestic violence, disability and several other subjects that were once considered uncomfortable. LGBTQ+ lives are also part of society. Showing such lives on screen does not mean that every viewer has to agree with every character or dialogue. At the same time, audiences have every right to question the writing, the treatment of the subject or whether a particular scene works. A progressive society should have space for both representation and criticism.
The word ‘normal’ itself needs some thought. For many years, people whose gender identity or sexual orientation was different from the majority were expected to hide their lives or adjust themselves to society’s expectations. A more inclusive society does not mean declaring one group superior to another. It simply means accepting that the majority cannot decide what kind of life is legitimate for everyone. If a transgender person wants dignity, friendship, companionship, employment and the freedom to live without humiliation, these are not special demands. They are basic human expectations.
Karthik Subbaraj has also asked people to watch the film before judging its treatment of transgender identity. He has said that if someone has a problem with seeing a transgender person’s life as a film, they should ‘also come and watch the film’. He has also said that he is open to a conversation or debate about the portrayal. Importantly, he pointed out that the controversy itself has ‘created a conversation’. That may be one of cinema’s roles — it need not settle every social debate, but it can bring subjects into public discussion.
The reaction to Dorothy also brings out a contradiction in the way we look at films. Audiences regularly watch stories about murder, revenge, crime, violence and morally complicated characters without assuming that watching such films will make people behave in the same way. But when a film shows the lives of LGBTQ+ people, questions about whether such representation will influence society sometimes become much louder. This does not mean that every criticism of LGBTQ+ representation is based on prejudice. Some viewers may genuinely have concerns about the story, writing or presentation. Such criticism is part of healthy debate. But the criticism should be about the film rather than the dignity or legitimacy of the people being represented.
Tamil cinema has always experimented with social themes. But meaningful representation is not simply about putting an LGBTQ+ character into a film. Such characters should be presented as complete human beings, with emotions, relationships, dreams, weaknesses and strengths — rather than merely as comic characters, villains or stereotypes. In this respect, Dorothy becomes part of a larger change in Indian cinema, where stories about gender identity are slowly moving towards the centre of mainstream storytelling. The Malayalam film industry, too, has had several leading actors play LGBTQ+ characters, contributing to a wider conversation about representation.
Ultimately, a progressive society is not one where everyone thinks alike. It is one where people who are different can live with dignity without being humiliated or forced to remain silent. A viewer has the right to dislike Dorothy. Another viewer has the right to identify with it. A filmmaker has the freedom to tell an uncomfortable story, within the law, and audiences have the freedom to question it. What should gradually disappear is the belief that someone’s identity itself is a reason for ridicule or rejection.
Cinema cannot change society overnight. But when people who were once invisible become visible on screen, it can make society look at itself and ask a simple question: is what we call ‘normal’ really normal for everyone, or is it simply what we have become accustomed to seeing?