A film that’s just as confused and complicated as the love story it portrays
The first meeting between Gautham (Harish Kalyan) and Tara (Shilpa Manjunath) isn’t the sort that one would expect after seeing the cutely-in-love kind of posters of the two in the promotional material. He picks a fight with her a few minutes into seeing her for the first time, and drops her into a swimming pool. A little later, she’s in trouble, and he has to save her from some rowdy elements. Ironically, a few months later, when they get to know each other, she saves his number as ‘Rowdy’ on her phone.
There’s another nice little scene in the first half, and that’s when the two of them are just getting comfortable with each other. She’s wearing his jacket and bidding him goodbye. He pulls her over for what you think will turn into a ‘moment’. But he says: “Give me back my jacket.” Like he doesn’t care much about her.
He says he’ll take a video of this apology, which both parties will upload on their Facebook page. Because… he wants to see who gets more ‘like’s. Gautham then crashes the scene and beats the makeshift judge up (among other people). This head-scratching what-the-fuck-ery colours even the important, character-defining stretches. Gautham’s rage is a result of his assumption that his mother abandoned him. But when he learns the truth, he acts as though it’s a minor annoyance, as though he stepped out of the house and forgot his keys. And just wait for the quasi-philosophical scene where he turns to drugs. I haven’t laughed this hard in a while.
Why didn’t Gautham’s father (Ponvannan) tell him about his mother earlier? Why does this man enter and exit the narrative as he pleases? Why did we need that fake interval point? What is this film, really? Ispade Rajavum opens with a Socrates quote: The hottest love has the coldest end. But the films credited at the end (Kaatru Veliyidai, Tamasha) offer a better clue to what the director was after: a jagged, modern-day romance. (You could add Neethane En Ponvasantham to this list. Also Harish Kalyan’s hit, Pyaar Prema Kaadhal.) And at least A Kavin Raj’s cinematography follows the brief. It’s jagged and modern. Conflicts are covered with handheld shots. An unreliably narrated flashback is soaked in diffused light. The intensity of the present-day portions is emphasised by ultra-saturated, neon-glow colours reminiscent of Wong Kar-wai’s work. There’s even a vertical 360-degree move. Bravo! Bravo!
when the above-mentioned thoughts occur, Gautham smokes weed for the first time, and it seemed as if the film got stoned. Everything goes berserk, the actions of the characters aren’t explained, the logic goes for a toss, and a lot of questions get raised, all within a span of 20-30 minutes in the second half.
The thoughts and maturity of the director have been translated well to the screen. He doesn’t preach toxicity and stalking through lengthy monologues. Rather, he places scenes that show stalking, but provides a beautiful flip towards the end (watch out for Bala Saravanan’s well-timed one-liner), resulting in it becoming more of representation, than glorification.
