Bujjigadu

bujjigadu-poster

Puri Jagannadh and Prabhas are a winning combination and while Bujjigaadu lacks the wardrobe excesses of EK Niranjan, it is a fun if ludicrous film.

Little Bujji and Chitti are neighbours in Vizag, inseparable until they have a fight. Bujji always does what Chitti says and she tells him to not speak to her for 12 years, after which she will marry him. He knows he can’t stay without wanting to talk to her so he runs away. Time passes, and Chitti’s family move away. Flash forward and we see our grown hero (Prabhas) beating up goons in Chennai. As evidence of his Tamilification, Bujji is a huge Rajinikanth fan, desperate to get to the FDFS of the Superstar’s latest film. And that leads handily to a corking tribute to the man himself.

Bujji returns to Vizag after 12 years, confident that Chitti will be there waiting. He is distracted and strays into a comedy subplot which results in some jail time. While in jail he is offered 1 crore if he breaks out and kills a man. After a moment of soul searching and confirmation the target was a bad guy, he accepts. After all, he needs money to marry Chitti. Meanwhile she has returned from studying overseas to look for Bujji, only to be sent away by his folks with a flea in her ear.

The pair cross paths, each unaware of the other’s identity. Bujji’s nom de crime is Rajinikanth and apart from knowing Chitti (Trisha) is in Hyderabad, he has few leads to go on. Eventually Bujji discovers that Chitti is the sister of Sivanna (Mohan Babu), the man he was paid to kill but has since befriended. Bujji has been living in her home all along. Sivanna asked Bujji to keep his true name a secret as he knew his little sis would leave home as soon as she found her childhood love. So Bujji agrees, albeit with some conditions.

Bujjigaadu-ogle

Hero and heroine under one roof with the erstwhile villain, more villains breathing down their necks, true love and secret identities…What could possibly go wrong?

Bujji and Chitti still imagine each other as they were in childhood, and their adult selves don’t really hit it off. I wondered how long they would last once they had to spend a lot more time together and the idea of a mutual destiny started to wear thin. Trisha plays Chitti as a little stuck-up, vain and intolerant, but still with some likeable characteristics. Good friend The Mahesh Fan once damned Trisha’s acting by saying she always looks a little more in love with herself than with her hero (Mahesh in that instance) and I tend to agree. Trisha and Prabhas do have an easy rapport but it never seems like a sizzling chemistry.  On the other hand, when Trisha looks at herself in a mirror, all bets are off.

Prabhas is immensely likeable, and despite his slightly dorky charm he can muster up a good death stare and punch dialogue when needed. Bujji is fairly easy going but he is a Telugu film hero so there were a few moments of brain melting ‘logic’ and chauvinism. His declaration that if Chitti said she loved him he would have to kill her because she could only ever love him and she didn’t know who him was so clearly would be guilty of cheating and thus deserve to die made me wish again that every film had a Tight Slap Administrator, and that it was me.

Mind you, Prabhas does get props for his Chihuahua wrangling skills.  And I love how much love Bujji has for Sivanna and his constant calling people Darling.

If we define love as mutual respect and affection with a dash of chemistry, then the strongest relationship in this story is between Bujji and Sivanna. Sivanna sits back to watch his goons take Bujji apart, but instead finds himself cradling his bloody opponent, shouting at him not to die because he loves him. Mohan Babu and Prabhas play off each other very well, and their characters seem more complex when they are together as they get down to the truth of things rather than just posturing.

Of the large supporting cast, MS Narayana is a standout as Bujji’s boozy, soft hearted dad. The scene where he recognised his runaway boy was sweet, and I really do like him in roles where he gets to act and not just be the butt of jokes. Sanjana plays Chitti’s sister Kangana and she is pretty and not completely terrible so I suppose she met the brief.

The villains are Machi Reddy (Kota Srinivasa Rao) and his two lions – Ajay and Supreet. House favourite Subbaraju is excellent as hapless third son Venkat , who seems a bit too sensible and not really hard-core enough for his dad. Sunil and Ali provide more than enough pointless comedy. Brahmaji is Sivanna’s hot headed sidekick. And Mumaith Khan does her thing as a welder/item girl.

I liked that she wore professionally appropriate gear for both her day jobs.

The fight scenes are campy and funny, with lots of flexing and posing by Prabhas. Every single breakable thing on set is utilised, and the sound effects team are given full rein on the biffo and squishy stabby noises. The finale took place on an abandoned film set so there were lots of fragile brick walls and stained glass windows, enough for everyone to have a go. Almost all the boys get to fly about either through wires or effects. I kind of love the moment when Bujji sets his foot on fire, all the better to kick the goons with. That’s commitment. I liked that Bujji could pour out his feelings in Tamil to Telugu people and in Telugu to Tamil friends and thus get to wallow in his woe while keeping his secrets. There were some zingy one liners and some mystifying subtitles, and that all adds to the fun.

The costume department made some interesting choices, and I applaud their application to the task of dressing the overseas backing dancers with only the materials commonly found in hotel rooms and budget clothing chains. And Prabhas takes denim in some unexpected directions. The songs are mostly fun (even if just for the outfits) and help you take a breather in between fight scenes.

Bujjigaadu has a hero who knows exactly how to hit all the right spots in a mass potboiler, and a director with a big budget and a sense of fun.  4 stars!

Nandalala

Nandalala

I’m a big fan of Mysskin and have been slowing working my way through his earlier films whenever I can track them down on DVD. However I put Nandalala at the end of the queue, since it’s a change of direction from his more usual crime thrillers and didn’t sound like my cup of tea. But I should have known better. Nandalala is still very much a Mysskin film with a focus on the dark side of human nature, although this time there are some lighter moments scattered among the social commentary of the film. Even better, Mysskin himself makes an appearance in this film as one of the lead characters and does almost as good a job in front of the camera as he does on the other side.

Essentially Nandalala is a road-trip film with a young boy and a mental patient who has escaped from an asylum both searching for their mother, although their reasons for doing so are very different. Aside from their own journeys, both physical and metaphorical, along the way they meet up with an interesting mix of characters that serve to illustrate the joys and the difficulties of life in rural India. Although it does move at a slow pace, perhaps to go along with the walking pace of the journey, Nandalala is a beautiful film with a heartfelt screenplay and is very well worth a watch.

The story opens with Akhilesh, commonly known as Agi (Ashwath Ram), waiting outside his school. There are 15 seconds of silence while other pupils and their parents’ stream past his downcast head, which is an incredibly effective way to describe his isolation and give a general idea of his circumstances. When Agi does walk home, it’s to a greedy servant and his blind grandmother, both of whom need him for their own reasons. While it’s obvious he doesn’t live in abject poverty, there is little affection and no joy in Agi’s life. His most precious possession is a photograph of himself with his mother as a baby and he takes advantage of a school trip to set off on a journey to find her. Agi seems well prepared with his mother’s address, her photograph and a relatively full wallet, but he doesn’t have any real idea about how to find her. Just to make matters worse he is robbed in the local town and left without the means to buy anything let alone a bus ticket to Annaivayal. His journey seems to be over before it has started but he chances to meet up with Bhaskar Mani (Mysskin), a mentally disabled man who has escaped from an asylum and is trying to find his own mother. Bhaskar is searching for answers, wanting to know why his mother abandoned him to the mercies of the hospital staff and has never visited or contacted him. Despite their many differences, they make a good team as they travel together to find their respective mothers.

In many ways Agi is a typical young boy from a small town. He’s had a sheltered existence and his innocence and loving nature colour his approach to everyone he meets on the road. He is accepting of Bhaskar and his mannerisms, but still manages to become exasperated when Bhaskar does something particularly unhelpful, although this doesn’t change the easy partnership the two share. Ashwath Ram is excellent and plays his part perfectly throughout. His eagerness and excitement as he runs around the village searching for his mother is infectious, while his emotional ups and downs are natural and feel very honest. Agi’s guileless approach to life and his innate practicality are perhaps a little unlikely given his upbringing, but they do mirror a similar innocence and matter-of-fact abruptness in his companion.

Mysskin is surprisingly good as Bhaskar, although he does have a tendency to overact and occasionally over-emphasise some of Bhaskar’s obsessive mannerisms. Initially when in the asylum he continually runs his hand along the wall or the bars beside him in a behaviour pattern that fits well with his character’s mental disabilities, but some of his later actions seem more contrived and don’t fit as well with his mental health issues. However, he does an excellent job of portraying a child-like innocence that has an effect on everyone he meets, and if his sudden rationality at some points seems rather opportune, his moments of insanity never become too over-the-top.

The film is at it’s best when it relies on the situations the two companions find themselves in to drive the narrative, ably assisted by Ilayaraaja’s absolutely beautiful background music. There is little dialogue to draw attention away from the body language, which is much more expressive than any long speeches could ever be, and the songs are equally effective in adding depth and emotion to the film. This is a beautifully sad song that contrasts with the happy attitude of Agi and Bhaskar’s mood swings and general instability. Just perfect.

Snigdha Akolkar appears in the second half as a working prostitute whose presence adds rationality to the story. Initially she is understandably annoyed with Bhaskar and Agi when they drive away her paying customer but later events lead to Anjali accompanying the two on their quest. Her presence allows a glimpse of a softer side to Bhaskar, and gives Agi the opportunity to be just a little boy searching for his mother. It’s a powerful role despite the short screen time and Snigdha is excellent, particularly when she allows glimpses of her characters emotional fragility to escape her seemingly strong and confident presence. Nasser and Rohini also appear in small but very effective roles, and the rest of the supporting cast are all uniformly excellent and perfectly understated.

As with most Mysskin films, there are plenty of odd angles and shots of feet. This is very effective during Agi’s desperate search for his mother but also works to draw attention to the journey itself and the miles walked by Agi and Bhaskar. Mahesh Muthuswami adds his expert touch to make the countryside look sumptuous, whether it’s the plants along the roadside, the luscious green fields or the buildings and villages along the route. It is a beautiful part of the countryside, although Mysskin also points out the shady characters and quick violence that lurks amongst the idyllic scenery.

Nandalala is much better than I expected from the brief description on the DVD. It’s difficult to describe just how emotive the film is without revealing too much of the plot, but as it’s a Tamil film it’s probably obvious that there is no happy ending – or at least not completely. However the film is all about the journey and the relationship between Bhaskar and Agi, and from that point of view it is a resounding success. Mysskin excels in adding small details, such as Bhaskar’s stolen shoes that he wears back to front, that add depth and interest to his story and characters. I love this film just as much as his thrillers and am impressed that Bhaskar can turn his hand to such a different style of story so competently. It’s also commendable that he has not only written and directed the film but also acted in a major role without stealing the limelight or making it all about ‘Bhaskar’s story’. It’s probably not for everyone; there is no ‘action’, no comedy track and no big dance number, but the simple emotions and finely nuanced performances make this one for fans of more character driven cinema. 4½ stars.

Piku (2015)

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Shoojit Sircar’s Piku could be summarised as two hours of Bhaskor (Amitabh Bachchan) and his shit, literal and figurative. He is a man obsessed with his ever-present constipation, and that and his intelllectual superiority are his favourite topics of conversation. Luckily there is more than just a constipated old man to this story and for me, Piku (Deepika Padukone) is the real heart of the film.

Bhaskor is well intentioned but domineering and contradictory. I found him slightly monstrous as his self-absorption is limitless, and for all his manners he is often unkind. He won’t let his daughter marry saying that is a ‘Low IQ’ thing to do and he wants more for her than to be a man’s wife, but he also insists she do as he says. On the one hand he talks about how much he loved his wife, then criticises her for being so unhappy (because he made her unhappy by marrying her). He introduces her to prospective suitors by telling them she isn’t a virgin, and asking if they have a problem with that. They mightn’t care, but for me his lack of empathy for Piku is very off putting. The family is loud and shouty, all of them totally obsessed with their bowels or Bhaskor’s motions, but there is no lack of love. Arguments get heated then suddenly devolve into giggles or reminiscences, a nicely realistic note.

Piku-Bhaskor

Amitabh effortlessly dominates the scenes he is in, even when he is sleeping. He does a little OVER!ACT!ING!, particularly towards the beginning of the film when Bhaskor is being set up as irascible and a bit quixotic. But when he hits his stride, he is delightful and charismatic. My favourite scene was when Bhaskor comes home from a party a little drunk. He puts on old records and starts dancing. At first he is playing to his judgemental daughter, twisting and mugging to get a laugh and stop her from telling him off. But then his moves change and he seems to have journeyed back to an earlier happier time, not even looking at Piku, as he gently dances to a much loved song. Her expressions are perfect as she moves from anger to concern to grudging amusement before sashaying back to her room, half dancing along. For me, that perfectly expressed the love and tension when the child becomes the caretaker and has to deal with their parents’ mortality.

At first I thought this was going down the path of a modern woman has to be an aggressive, unpleasant, and possibly slutty woman. But Piku is overruled by her father and his innards, her clients often ignore her design advice, and she has no one who will really listen so I can’t blame her for getting irritable. Piku is aware of how much her father’s needs and demands are shaping her days, but she is doing what she thinks is right so doesn’t feel bitter. Her love life is limited to the occasional hookup with her business partner Syed (Jisshu Sengupta) and she doesn’t invest time in notions of romance. At first glance Piku is abrasive, but Deepika is lovely, warm, and…real as she adds and removes layers to her character. The rapport between Piku and Rana develops slowly, borne by the conversations and observations of people stuck in a car with a cranky old man. He sees past her tough front, and she sees his apparent laziness is more of a weary pragmatism which she can relate to.

Irrfan (apparently he needs no surname these days) can be hit (Life in a Metro) or miss (do we all remember Krazzy 4?). This performance is a hit for me, and Rana suits his slightly offbeat delivery and everyman style. He and the Big B do indulge in one scene that is more like an improv no one knows how to end, but generally he concentrates on being Rana rather than on skills demonstrations. I felt Rana was a kind of proxy for the viewer as at first he is overwhelmed by Piku’s bolshy character, all the cacophony, and the incessant examination of digestive functions, but gradually he sees behind the bluster. He tries to offer advice and be helpful at home and at work, but his platitudes are rejected. It’s only when he gets real that he is heard. The nascent relationship between Piku and Rana is based on mutual understanding and respect and there is no insta-love personality transplant or makeover required.

Moushimi Chatterjee is a whirlwind as Piku’s Aunty, and brings some fun and a much needed opposing voice to Bhaskor’s benevolent dictatorship. Budhan (Balendra Singh) is a hapless servant, attending to all Bhaskor’s bathroom related chores. While I did laugh at some of his scenes, I could have lived without all the poo jokes.

Whistling in a soundtrack is generally an indicator of whimsy, which is not my most loved style. But apart from a propensity for emo guitar tweedling, Anupam Roy’s soundtrack suits the drama and the pared back style very well, and I enjoyed it and the songs used in the background.

Piku has a flavour of the middle cinema of the 70s; not realism but realistic. The characters felt like they had roots. While the cinematography was beautiful, it wasn’t distracting, more often giving the viewer a fly on the wall glimpse of what was going on. There were a few indulgently arty shots in Kolkata, but who could complain about that? Some of the dialogue feels improvised and Juhi Chaturvedi’s screenplay gives a distinct voice for each character, whether through their blend of languages or the formality of their speech.

Not much really happens in Piku, but all the characters go on a bit of a journey beyond the physical road trip. I laughed, the lady sitting next to me cried and we all did a bit of ‘you go girl’ affirmative nodding. See this for Deepika Padukone giving a fine performance as a modern, complex woman and for some late career Big B magic.

(Note: Maybe don’t see this if even mild toilet humour grosses you out.)

 

Bahu Begum (1967)

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M Sadiq’s Bahu Begum opens with a happy song, featuring prettily dressed girls playing on swings in a rain drenched courtyard. But it stars Meena Kumari so you know things won’t stay on the bright side for long.

Melodramas are not always my cup of tea, but I like Ashok Kumar a lot and the lovely soundtrack has enduring appeal. And Bahu Begum places a heroine who lives a secluded and blameless life in a moral dilemma, and then pushes her out the door to see what might be. It’s not an uplifting girl power story at all, but there is a charm in the tone and the respect between key characters.

Yusuf (Pradeep Kumar) visits his friend Achchan (Johnny Walker) but his ulterior motive is to see the lovely Zeenat (Meena Kumari). Her family is not as wealthy as they once were and her father Nawab Mirza Sultan (D.K.Sapru) has rented half the house to Achchan. Achchan and Zeenat’s friend Bilqis (Zeb Rehman) help young love as much as they can. Bilqis is less theatrical than Achchan, but they both get results. Yusuf and Zeenat are flowery and poetic, and have more of an idealised love rather than a passionate attraction.

One fateful day Nawab Sikander Mirza (Ashok Kumar) accidentally sees Zeenat’s face and cannot help but look his fill. Sikander Mirza sends his man to present a proposal and at the same time Achchan asks Yusuf’s uncle to send a proposal. The uncle says yes but has no intention of surrendering his control over the estate or of marrying Yusuf off without a big dowry. He sends Yusuf away on a bogus business trip, timing his return for after Zeenat’s wedding. Zeenat only finds out about her wedding when her trousseau arrives, and no one thinks to mention the groom. All overheard conversations point to Yusuf so she assumes it has been fixed, and he himself is sure he is the one.

Bilqis breaks the news to Zeenat on her wedding day. Zeenat gets Bilqis to cover for her and slips away to where Yusuf should be waiting for her. The qawali sung in the dargah seems to be a direct challenge to her to face the tribulations but she cannot comprehend that her true love is not there. Zeenat passes out, regaining consciousness well after the wedding formalities have taken place. An empty palanquin was sent to the Nawab, and there is no bridge left unburned. Some time later Zeenat is found unconscious (again), this time by Naziranbai (Lalita Pawar) and one of her girls (Helen). They take her to the brothel (or whore house as my subtitles have it) as they would not abandon a stranger in need.

Zeenat hears Helen singing about straying from her intended path (the lyrics by Sahir Ludhianvi seem to be very well linked in with the drama) and is drawn to the sadness in the song. It is not until a male guest sees her and waves a fan of banknotes that the penny drops about her current abode. Naziranbai throws the vulgar fellow out and the ladies bond over their miserable histories and a good cry. Zeenat asks for shelter in the brothel and Naziranbai promises to protect her so at worst I guess she would be a virgin prostitute (you know, the ones who only ever dance).

Sikander Mirza asks Naziranbai to send him a plausible fake wife so he can get his little sister Suraiya (Naaz) engaged. Of course, Zeenat is the only girl who can pass for decent. She and her ‘husband’ finally talk about what happened and it is a genuine conversation. I liked that when he asked her why she went to the brothel, meaning why did she throw her honour away, she was firm but polite saying she didn’t take herself there but the brothel that offered her refuge when no one else would. Suraiya guilt trips her fake sister-in-law into staying longer but once she is married, there is no reason for Zeenat to stay. Except that the Nawab loves her, and asks her to remain in his house for their shared honour if not for mutual affection. So of course Yusuf turns up because it is very important that he tell her all about his feelings. What will she do?

Meena Kumari is the tragedy queen, and Zeenat is like the Typhoid Mary of Tears. The longer people are around her, the more they cry. Everyone, at some stage, turns into a soggy mess. Well, except Helen.

Zeenat’s father loses the plot after one of her teary fits, Suraiya goes from manic pixie to weeping wreck. Even pragmatic businesswoman Naziranbai has a sob when proximity to Zeenat finally wears her down. I admired Meena’s ability to cry prettily without getting blotchy or running at the nose, and her makeup artist must have been on call around the clock. She does have some chemistry with Ashok Kumar but I think he could portray rapport with a cabbage so I am not sure who deserves the credit.

Bahu Begum-Ashok Kumar

Ashok Kumar plays Sikander Mirza with regal poise and excellent eyeliner. While the character is obsessed with honour, it is mostly in relation to ensuring his little sister has the opportunity for a good marriage and a happy life. He is not so blinded by his own prestige that he fails to consider Zeenat’s position and desires. There is a bit going on under the surface and Kumar shows the inner turmoil through beautifully judged facial expressions and the pauses and beats in his dialogue delivery.

I liked that the film showed a small space between being married and not, between doing what was right and maybe doing what you wanted. Even though Zeenat was unlikely to deviate from the norms, she could have. And to see her and Nawab Sikander Mirza thoughtfully considering that she had options was quite lovely, especially in the midst of so much heightened emotion and melodrama.

Pradeep Kumar has the charisma of a limp lettuce leaf but since Yusuf, like Zeenat, is more likely to recite a couplet than actually do anything I suppose that is a good fit. Once he learns of Zeenat’s betrayal he goes a bit Devdas, wallowing in self-pity and dramatic eye shadow.  Zeb Rehman is delightful as Bilqis, Zeenat’s mildly rebellious friend. Naaz is afflicted with a character that is either giggling or sobbing so she must have been exhausted at the end of every days shooting. And any film that gives Helen some lovely songs and pretty costumes is doing something right. Johnny Walker has a significant role in the drama but still manages to drag in the comedy sideplot complete with cock jokes and pratfalls.

The opulent sets and costumes give Bahu Begum a timeless quality as does the beautiful soundtrack by Roshan. I have no idea when the story is supposed to have taken place. I think Johnny Walker did slip into some Hinglish in one of his rants but other than that the dialogue is in Hindi and Urdu. I loved the house furnishings, the soft light streaming through draperies and screens and the measured way of life.

I have my issues with the way women are segregated and dismissed, but since this is a vintage film and possibly set in ye olden days I could step back from that a little. But if someone had just asked Zeenat if she wanted to get married and to who, the movie could have been over in one tear sodden hour and had room for a couple more songs. 3 stars!

O Kadhal Kanmani

O Kadhal Kanmani

Mani Ratnam’s latest film is a modern take on romance that works primarily due to the charisma and energy of the two main leads. Dulquer Salmaan and Nithya Menen breathe life into their respective roles as an ambitious game developer and an aspiring architect in Mumbai, and are helped along with excellent support from Prakash Raj and Leela Sampson. The romance is light and breezy for much of the first half, but the film falters a little in the second when events seem a little too contrived. However the relationship is sweet and beautifully developed, the characters are engaging and the ‘feel good’ factor is high making OK Kanmani simply a very watchable romance that lets you leave the theatre with a smile.

The film is set in Mumbai and Aadi (Dulquer Salmaan) immediately wins support for developing a new game set in Mumbai and made specifically with the denizens of that city in mind. I do like a good idea for the opening titles and OK Kanmani has an excellent start with the credits shown over an animation based on Aadi’s game.  Aadi’s initial enthusiasm is a bit of a worry, but he soon settles down to show his zest for life balanced with genuine care and compassion when he moves in as a lodger with Ganapathy (Prakash Raj) and his wife Bhavani (Leela Samson). Initially Ganapathy allows Aadi to move in under sufferance and presents him with a confronting list of rules and conditions. However Ganapathy’s gruff exterior hides a softer heart and it’s not long before Aadi comes to respect Ganapathy and appreciate the love and tenderness he shows for his ailing wife. The relationship between Ganapathy and Bhavani is the central core of the film and becomes the yardstick against which Aadi and Tara (Nithya Menen), and ultimately the audience, measure the strength of their own relationship.

Tara is working as an architect in Mumbai but has plans to attend university in Paris to further her training. Refreshingly she has no desire to get married, although she bases this on the failure of her parent’s marriage rather than anything more radical. However she has dreams and desires that are personal goals to achieve and she doesn’t base her worth on her marriage prospects. Aadi too has no desire to get married but does want a relationship with Tara, at least until she moves to Paris and he realises his dream of moving to the USA. Again, in contrast to most SI love stories, there is no stalking required here. Tara likes what she sees of Aadi and is happy to have a relationship with him until she leaves – no strings attached, just two people enjoying each other’s company.

Mani Ratnam is careful to show that the relationship not a one-sided affair, and that Aadi and Tara have an equal attraction to each another. Both characters have reasons to act as they do, and the equal development of both the hero and the heroine is a welcome departure from many recent films with their expendable and interchangeable heroines. In addition, both Tara and Aadi have a fairly casual attitude to their romance and it’s fantastic to have a female character that isn’t afraid of declaring her desires just as loudly as her male counterpart, and act on them too. Aside from giving both characters equal voices in the romance, Mani Ratnam also perfectly captures the delight and excitement of the early stages of their affair; helped along by the excellent on-screen chemistry shared by the two actors.

Aadi and Tara are independent and both are living away from their families, which gives them the freedom and opportunity to live as they please. They decide to move in together, and given the shortage of housing in Mumbai and the fact that Tara lives in a women’s hostel that means that they have to beard the lion in his den and face Ganapathy. However Ganapathy’s initial objections are overcome by the delight he sees on Bhanvani’s face when Tara sings with her, and as easily as that he agrees to the arrangement.  Naturally Aadi’s brother and Tara’s mother are appalled when they learn of the relationship and find out that the couple are living together. The couple also have to deal with the looming separation as Aadi gets his chance to move to the States and Tara’s date to start University is finalised. Weaving through their struggles is the example set by Bhavani and Ganapathy – proof that perhaps love can be enough.

Both Nithya Menen and Dulquer Salmaan are excellent and fit easily into their roles. Dulquer is a good fit for an enthusiastic but respectful young professional and there is no hint of the obsessive man-child more often seen in Indian romances. Nithya is perfect as the fiercely independent and strong-willed architect and provides a good partner for her co-star without straying into overly glamorous heroine territory. However Prakash Raj is the absolute star performer here and he easily steals the show every time he is on-screen. His facial expressions convey more than the dialogue and he has an easy rapport with Nithya and Dulquer while maintaining a perfect relationship with his onscreen wife. Leela Sampson is also superb and completely nails the quiet confusion required from her character while still maintaining her dignity. The scenes between Ganapathy and Bhavani are some of the most moving I’ve seen in recent times and are a good counterpart to the happiness and excitement of Tara and Aadi’s relationship. This second romance is what lifts the film above most love stories and compensates immensely for the somewhat disappointing end to the film. At least for me.

Spoiler alert – stop now if you don’t want to know how the romance ends and skip down to after the next images.

 

What is disappointing is that the film suggests that Aadi and Tara can only be faithful to each other and maintain their long distance relationship if they are married. I find the assumption that they would drift apart without that commitment a slap in the face for all the wonderful development of their romance that has gone before. I cannot see how marriage is the answer to their problem when they could have done exactly the same thing without getting married and probably had the same outcome – especially when the rest of the film does so well at banishing stereotypes and conventional attitudes. It’s a small point, but one that I found annoying given that it seemed so unnecessary – I have more faith and belief in the characters than it appears their creator does, although I did wonder if this was perhaps just a way to get past the censors given the live-in relationship portrayed – food for thought!

End of spoiler!

Aside from my minor quibble about the end of the story, OK Kanmani is a beautiful romance that perfectly develops a balanced relationship and deals with many of the trials and tribulations of modern life for a young couple. The characters are believable, the situations generally realistic and the performances exemplary from the entire cast. Add in the upbeat and catchy soundtrack from A.R. Rahman and O Kadhal Kanmani is definitely a film I recommend and one I will watch again and again.  Just wonderful!