Anbil Avan Movie Review:
What do women of today expect when we say we want a green-flag husband? One who doesn't treat household work as a favour. One who has emotional maturity. One who doesn't expect his wife to become his mother. And most of all, one who heals the traumatised inner child. In Anbil Avan, directed by R Kaarthikeyan, Ashok Selvan’s Surya Kanthasamy is all this and more, portraying a Sillinu Oru Kaadhal Suriya-coded character. Given Ashok Selvan’s chocolate boy charm and realistic performance, he is also very believable and admirable as the dream husband in the film. Yet, the film fails to capitalise on his rizz as it transforms into a monotonous action photoplay.
Director: R Kaarthikeyan
Cast: Ashok Selvan, Preity Mukhundhan, Kadirbalu, Maha Delhiganesh
Anbil Avan hard launches Surya and Iyal’s (Preity Mukhundhan) married life, seven years after they first fell in love. Having left her life of riches behind for him, the two hotel management graduates struggle at their workplace, a five-star hotel, leaving no room for romance or marital bliss. One fine day, Surya is reminded of a canon event: when he made a promise to start a homestay, nurturing Iyal's dream. And that's where the action of the film begins.
Surya, the wife guy, finds a beautiful bungalow with lore in a hill station, owned by a former queen (Revathi), who refuses to sell it to anyone. Still, Surya, being the 'Golden Retriever husband' that he is, convinces her by expressing his wish to satisfy his wife’s dreams. However, little does he know that the coveted house comes with its own baggage.
The film takes its own sweet time, and quite a number of songs later, finally establishes its central conflict by the interval. Until then, to give credit where it's due, we watch with attention and amusement, wondering what's next. Even until then, though, the film does have some logical gaps. For instance, Iyal, having experienced the creeps from a police officer, still allows him inside her house in the absence of her husband, with the confidence that she will be able to “handle it”. Of course, he misbehaves, and she handles it. But seldom do women welcome such predators home and serve them tea.
Similarly, the central conflict of the film boils down to one MLA's ego of wanting that house, which the queen refused to sell to him but sold to Surya. Throughout the film, we see him go unhinged towards Surya and Iyal, as he introduces one trouble after another in their life. And yet we wonder why he couldn’t do the same thing to the original owner of the house, who isn’t established to have as much power either. These loopholes, and many more, undermine the overall intensity of the screenplay.
Where the script excelled, however, was in writing the couple’s characters and their activities to be relatable. In a scene, we see Surya pull Iyal’s leg when a suitcase’s zip comes apart, saying, “Nee kadhara kadhara beram pesi vangina potti dhaane idhu. Avan vaitheruchal laye adhu pinjirukkum.” Such lines come organically and aid us in buying their chemistry as real. One of the best scenes of the film, by far, is when the two, after love bombing us with their romance, have an intense argument. The filmmaker allowed them to overlap their sentences and speak without thinking, making their bickering representative of any married pair. When Iyal says she’s only “struggled” these past 7 years, Ashok Selvan cries with conviction, delivering one of his most subtly nuanced performances in a while.
With all this and more earning aura points, the film’s second half descended into low-key disappointment. By the intermission, the villain and his motive are made clear. From there, one would expect the film to travel two ways: either Surya and Iyal use wit to overpower the antagonist, or they use brute force smartly to find their peace. The film settles for the latter, albeit in a unimpressive manner. Set within a house, the film's makers had immense potential to stage an action sequence that ensured the main characters use brains over brawn. Instead, the action choreography suffers from predictable kicks, jumps and attacks, with no visual break for the eye. There is also very little creativity in the way the action is choreographed, making the sequences feel repetitive rather than inventive. For a solid portion of 20-30 minutes, we get one smack-punch-slice-kick after another, which tests our patience as we await the end of the seemingly unending parade of villains.
The film’s vibe is to demonstrate Ashok Selvan’s action energy, but it lacks material required to sell that this man, along with his wife, is capable of putting an end to an army of rugged men for their survival. Early on, we are introduced to Surya, with main character energy, jumping 70 ft into a lake. Another sequence momentarily establishes his short temper, without any declaration of how powerful his anger can make him. Yes, his love for his wife is his ultimate weapon to defeat even Genghis Khan’s army, but for you to willingly suspend disbelief, R Kaarthikeyan should have done a little more.
Perhaps, a silver lining is that the villains are politicians, police officers and so-called friendly neighbours, making the threat as real as possible. In a way, the film is a public service announcement creating awareness about the risks that come with doing a big, attractive business. A fascinating Preity Mukhundhan and an Ashok Selvan in full form try their best to salvage what the script misses out on. Yet, in the end, Anbil Avan leaves us with a husband worth keeping and a film worth ghosting.
