Thandakaaranyam Movie Review: Has all the right ingredients, but in the wrong proportions

What if a film is socially relevant, has a fiercely unique directorial vision, competent performances, an interesting storyline, and still leaves you wanting for more? Or perhaps, like in the case of Thandakaaranyam, it makes you wanting for less. Athiyan Athirai’s sophomore directorial speaks about how the complex symbiotic relationship of systemic oppression and corruption exploits the downtrodden and breeds violence. Through dialogues and inventive visuals, you see the kind of metaphors, often seen in poetry, that draw parallels between emotional human bonds and the unshakeable magnificence of nature. Athiyan draws deeply evocative performances from almost every single character, irrespective of whether the scene or the character is small or important. Inspired by true events, Thandakaaranyam follows Murugan (Kalaiyarasan) as he joins a military training camp for a special anti-Naxal unit, and vows to cross every type of physical and emotional hardship so he can return home to his family and the love of his life, as a uniformed officer and earn back lost respect. With a fairly engaging premise, along with all the positives listed above, the film has a lot going for it. However, by the end, all that lingers in your memory is how these endearing elements were swallowed up in the quicksand of sappy, melodramatic, and indulgent filmmaking.

Director: Athiyan Athirai

Cast: Kalaiyarasan, Dinesh, Vinsu Sam, Shabeer Kallarakkal, Bala Saravanan

The seams start falling apart during the protagonist’s first emotional outburst. With no means to contact his girlfriend from the training camp, Murugan gets emotional upon hearing a song that reminds him of her. A classic portrayal of romantic yearning, which is well documented in not just films but in every form of art as well. What starts off as a poignant moment quickly spirals into a childish outburst, as Murugan, unsatisfied with just breaking the music player, runs around a track, collapses on the floor, and flails about, throwing dirt around in agony. We understand what we are supposed to feel early on, and whatever follows lingers as a loud, mutating caricature of that scene’s original intent. Such thick punctuations (of a scene’s emotional intent) pervade the entire film. When they do work, they work wonderfully to deliver an emotional punch. And when they don’t, it reminds us how crucial subtlety can be to a film. The fact that the song that triggers Murugan’s memories is ‘Oh Priya Priya’ because his girlfriend’s name is Priya (Vinsu Sam), is exactly the kind of lack of finesse that I am talking about here. Can a person not fall in love with a Priya, and can they not be reminded of her while listening to the Ilaiyaraaja classic? Of course, all of that can happen. But, straightforward coincidences are a rarity in real life, and so they dazzle. In a film, it just takes up space where a writer could have exhibited their creative writing choices instead. Maybe a scene of how the song brought Murugan and Priya together, or helped them overcome a stressful period, could have established how it became their song while also showing us the strength and beauty of their relationship.

As I mentioned earlier, strong emotional punctuations work in favour of the film as much as they are detrimental. And it is no more pronounced than in the scene where Murugan and Sadayan’s (Dinesh) father bids a tearful adieu to his farmland as he sells it to fund Murugan’s enrollment in the training camp. The frame captures the family arguing over the decision, with Sadayan asserting how this will help their family; the women are nevertheless distraught, and Murugan himself is lost in thought. And then the frame expands to reveal their father in the foreground, looking away from the chaos, fighting back his tears. The emotional pitch of the moment is driven up further as the old man picks up his wooden plough, forlornly walks away, pauses and turns around to look at the land that fed him and his sons, one last time. This is an indulgent scene but the kind that makes you want to take it all in. You want to be swayed. The film just struggles to know when to do this and when to pump the brakes. The heavily overpowering music and the constant need to elevate Dinesh’s (almost every) scene as something from a commercial mass masala actioner work against the film.

From its political stance to its humanist themes, Thankadakaaranyam is a sincere and honest effort that makes you care about its characters and keeps you engaged throughout. If not for the excessive melodrama and lack of finesse in the writing, perhaps it could have been a satisfying emotional drama rather than a film with the subtlety of an airport marshaller.