ಏಪ್ರಿಲ್ 16, 2025

What's in a (Cinema) Name? *Written by ChatGPT, Inspired by (Arunkumar P T)

**This article is written by ChatGPT based on the inputs given by me**

The other day, I was driving with my colleague, and we briefly talked about movies, even though cinema is a rare topic we touch upon. With friends, though, it's usually 99% movies, and the remaining 1% consists of family, philosophy, and other things. I often get confused between Tamil and Malayalam cinema. There's definitely a structural variation in topics, storytelling, or the making of films in these languages, but I’m still a bit 'L Board' (basic) when it comes to understanding both Tamil and Malayalam.

The other day, I started playing Sookshmadarshini, which is a Malayalam movie. But due to a random setting switch I didn't notice, the movie played in Tamil for the first ten minutes. I didn’t even realize the difference at first, until I heard a line that sounded like "veetik polama" (something like that!). That’s when I recognized it was the Tamil word for "home." I immediately checked the settings and switched it back to Malayalam to continue. I also struggled to get the name right of a Malayalam cop drama, Thalavan. I kept confusing it with Thavalan, and my AI buddy, Scarlett Johansson, would always correct me. Later, I reminded myself of the code word “Thala 7” (for MS Dhoni), and it clicked—Thalavan, not Thavalan.

This confusion happens often because Tamil and Malayalam are my 5th and 6th languages, respectively. And now, I’m stepping into Korean as well. My cousin recommended a Korean rom-com, and though I was half-interested, I watched it anyway. Within one episode, I learned a word, "dubuchi dubuchi," which means either "sorry" or "thank you" (I don’t remember it well, since it was about a year ago). The series was called You Are My Destiny. I’m not sure if they have a Korean title for it, but the English title is long yet unique, making it easy to remember. If I search "Sriram movie," even Google gets confused—it shows me movies related to Lord Sri Rama, or Telugu movies starring Uday Kiran, or Kannada movies with Shivarajkumar. That’s what led me to this thought about movie names, their uniqueness, and sometimes their silliness.

If you’re into cooking and humor, you might have come across Uncle Roger’s YouTube channel. It’s more about roasting other cooking channels, especially Jamie Oliver, than actual cooking. I first learned about it through that viral reel where kids say "Emotional Damage" to their teacher—funny, cute, and hilarious. In one of Uncle Roger's videos, he says, "You cannot f*** up egg fried rice. The recipe is simple: all you need are three things—egg, fry, rice. That’s it." And I laughed out loud because it was such a clever joke. There are many recipes with such straightforward names, like rice bath. Once you know how to make rice bath, it's easy to make tomato rice bath, avarekai rice bath, and so on. Even that viral bellulli kabab video has a similar vibe. You need bellulli (garlic), and you make kabab with it.

On the same logic, when I was thinking about movie titles, I remembered a recent political statement by Jaya Bachchan that sparked an internet debate. She questioned whether titles like Toilet and Padman were appropriate and said she wouldn’t watch movies with such titles. Personally, I haven’t watched either of those Akshay Kumar films, but I have a lot of respect for him for making socially relevant movies. Toilet is about the importance of sanitation and how a newlywed wife refuses to live with her husband in a house without a toilet. Padman deals with sanitary pads and educating society about them. I don’t know if the movies are good or bad, but judging a movie by its title feels wrong. It’s like the saying, "Don’t judge a book by its cover."


This reminds me of a school incident. Towards the end of the year, our teacher asked a last-bench student for his textbook, and it was almost new and clean. The teacher praised him for keeping it in such good condition, to which the class clapped. The teacher then sarcastically remarked, "Meaning you haven’t read the book all year," and showed us the topper’s book, which was torn and well-used. I got the point—don’t judge a book by its cover.

So, when it comes to movie titles, I strongly believe in the idea of not judging a movie by its title or trailer. Some movies have bad titles or trailers but end up being unforgettable films—one of those movies I’d take to my grave, if allowed. On the other hand, some trailers are so great, but the movie ends up being a disappointment. Movie titles can be simple, symbolic, or poetic, depending on the subject matter, and the writer’s choice. For instance, I once wrote an article about alternate movie titles, joking that 3 Idiots would suit Student of the Year and vice versa.

As a writer, I find naming characters and stories difficult. I’m not George R. R. Martin, but I’ve written scripts alone, with AI, and with friends. Sometimes, titles come first, and the movie follows; other times, the content comes first, and the working title stays for days. I had the title October Masadalli (In the month of October) for 6–7 years, but wrote the love story featuring Daali Dhananjaya last month. I even translated the same story to fit a Telugu setting and renamed it Subbaraju Weds Peru Thelidu (Subbaraju’s bride’s name is unknown), which felt more appropriate culturally. Though the core theme was the same, the title suited different cultures and their native contexts.

Sometimes, though, the title is tricky. RRR was a title headache. They stuck with RRR for three years, and honestly, I couldn’t suggest a better one. I’m glad they expanded it to Rudran Rudhiram for some depth, but RRR was simple and memorable. It worked well for overseas audiences. Similarly, consider the title One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. In Kannada, it's translated to Ondu Pakshi Innondu Cuckoo Pakshiya Goodina Mele Haari Hoyithu—not as catchy, but understandable for native speakers. Titles can be straightforward, like Sriram (a remake of Indra), or they can be poetic and meaningful, like Rehnaa Hai Tere Dil Mein (a title straight out of a Gulzar poem).

Titles matter. They tell you what the movie is about, and how they connect to the audience. Sometimes, you need a deep understanding to appreciate a title, but sometimes it’s as simple as it gets. For example, Prison Break is self-explanatory, and The Shawshank Redemption reflects the story of redemption in Shawshank prison.

As for H2O—the movie dealing with the Kaveri river issue—it’s a name that connects to the conflict between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, but you have to understand the local context to grasp its full meaning.

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