Niram Marum Ulagil Movie Review: A tedious exploitation of the 'amma sentiment' trope

The quintessential 'amma sentiment' trope has been a predominant part of Tamil cinema. Often praised as a noble profession—deeply rooted in patriarchal ideals— comes yet another collection of stories where the 'ammas' play a vital role in shaping the future of their children. With a century's worth of films in this genre, anticipation for a unique concept invariably steps in, especially when the first story plants hope for the rest of the anthology. However, with a generic story and even more generic characters, Niram Marum Ulagil drowns itself in tiring tropes and predictable twists.

Cast: Bharathiraja, Natty, Sandy, Rio Raj, Yogi Babu, Lovelyn Chandrasekhar, Viji Chandrasekhar, Vadivukkarasi, Suresh Menon, Aadukalam Naren

Director: Britto JB

The stories are narrated by Na Muthukumar (Yogi Babu) to Abi (Lovelyn Chandrasekhar), who is grappling with a strained relationship with her mother Viji (Viji Chandrasekhar). For a moment, you feel excited to see a mother-daughter relationship on-screen—a rarely explored dynamic in Tamil cinema. But as the story progresses, you realise that the idea of dysfunctionality in a parental relationship is being whitewashed with glorification for the role instead of offering a realistic portrayal of mothers. They aren't just warriors and Gods as often portrayed, but also equally flawed and navigating a system that is often designed against them.

Coming back to the stories, Abdul Malik (Natty) and Lal Bhaj (Suresh Chandra Menon) are two dons who are at the centre of a power struggle in the first story. An innocent couple gets caught inside it. Malik is positioned beautifully in front of the camera. Lights and shadows are used effectively to show his character. Themed on lost love, Natty is brilliant as a troubled man with a dreadful past. But the segment hangs in imbalance as it tapers through the end. Another noteworthy performance comes from Rayappan (Bharathiraja) and Kulanthai (Vadivukkarasi) who headline the second story on poverty and the pain of hunger. Their tender, mature love story reminds you of Pa Paandi and Pannaiyarum Padminiyum. However, its overt messaging and sentimentality kills the film from being elevated into something better. 

Athiyan (Rio Raj)'s seaside story is yet again entangled with predictable twists. A man struggling to take a moral stance due to his circumstances could have been explored further. The last of it all is a tale of an unlikely friendship between Anbu (Sandy) and Annakili (Tulasi) and that puts a smile on your face but falls short of becoming wholesome due to its glaring logical fallacies. For instance, when Mahi (Ayra Krishnan), Anbu's love interest gets into his auto, he plays 'Adikkudhu Kuliru' from Rajinikanth's Mannan, a move that would send shivers down the spine of any woman travelling alone. However, Mahi remains oddly unperturbed, even when a man she has met twice, asks for her hand in marriage, and even considers it at one point. It is also baffling that despite several hours past Annakili's disappearance from an elderly care centre, neither the employees nor her son launch a search operation. It's funny how logic and meaning are thrown into the sea as Annakili goes on an adventure into the city with Anbu in search of...a meaningful love.

Among the four stories, you would expect at least one to stand out. The desperation to make the audience emotionally moved far exceeds the focus on telling a compelling story. For a film on the changing nature of people's colours, its characters are either reduced to black or white. The daughter-in-law or to-be daughter-in-law in every story seems to be based on everyday Tamil soap. They are vengeful, hatred-filled ladies who cannot simply stand their mother-in-laws. Haven't we left this trope for good back in the 90's? These characters merely serve as pawns to put mothers and their sacrifices on a pedestal. If there's any merit, no parent is blamed for raising their children to be the way they are in the film, thankfully. However, you constantly question yourself—why does the storytelling flip down and under when the filmmaking speaks volumes of its technical finesse?  

After a barrage of over-the-top messaging on motherhood, Yogi Babu adds a cherry on top by adding, "Ulagathulaye amma dhan periya gift," essentially glorifying a relationship despite its dysfunctionality. The film paints mothers with a puritanical colour that essentially removes other shades of nuance or complexity. Behind all the sepia-toned and blue-tinted tales of love and loss, remains an anthology that is strangely devoid of any real thematic colour. And in its absence, Niram Marum Ulagil refuses to bring about any transformation—either on screen or within the audience.