Darling review: A sincere Priyadarshi struggles to salvage this cringefest misfire of a film

The first viewing of the trailer for Darling, the Priyadarshi-Nabha Natesh comedy, made me ponder over plenty of concerns. Would it be a film that uses multiple-personality disorder as a comedy trope? Is there a way to weave a story around the subject that wouldn’t turn out to be offensive? It is easy to underestimate the creative and subversive capacities of mainstream Telugu filmmakers. But as I watched the film, I realised these should have been the least of my concerns—Aswin Raam’s directorial Darling has much bigger problems.

Director: Aswin Raam

Cast: Priyadarshi, Nabha Natesh, Ananya Nagalla, Moin, Muralidhar Goud, Vishnu Oi

The film revolves around Raghav (Priyadarshi) and Anandi (Nabhan Natesh), two strangers who have a chance encounter on a hilltop, bond and get married immediately afterwards. However, Raghav realises the gravity of the situation within a few days of his marriage when he learns Anandi is not exactly what she seems, that there’s something more mysterious to her impulsive personality, which literally saves him to begin with—Anandi suffers from multiple personality disorder. It takes an audacious filmmaker to even conceive a story like this, where the entire premise hangs on a mild-mannered man employing a DIY approach to deal with such a serious medical condition his wife grapples with. But then again, there is a thin line between audacious and foolhardy, which only a truly skillful writer-filmmaker can tackle. If Darling is any evidence, Aswin Raam has a long way to go. After an intermittently funny first half that entirely relies on slapstick comedy, Aswin tries everything in his capacity to keep the ball rolling, whether it be broad slapstick comedy, or schmaltzy drama about elder family members learning a thing or two. But once the cat is out of the bag, the film never settles down, and it remains too bizarre throughout its 161-minute runtime.

If the film gives any sliver of hope about its potential, it’s in the sequence when Raghav and Anandi arrive at the former’s house to tell his parents about their decision to get married. There is an amusing absurdity to the entire situation, where the newly-in-love couple are super self-assured of themselves, oblivious to how bizarre it sounds to everyone else. The film needed a similar sense of absurdity throughout but, unfortunately, Aswin had other plans for the viewers.

Coming back to the central conflict, we are told that Raghav remains sincere and determined in his efforts to 'save’ Anandi because she was the one who rescued him at a crucial moment, giving him a new lease of life (never thought that MPDG could also stand for Multiple Personality Dream Girl, did you?). By outlandish film plot standards, it would be unfair to write this off on the count of incredulousness. But the second half of the film is too occupied with concocting ‘funny’ situations where Anandi’s multiple personalities create havoc, compelling Raghav to save the day somehow. There is very little investment in building the emotional core of Anandi and Raghav’s relationship that could help the viewer empathise with his endeavours or root for him. When Anandi is not struggling with the disorder, what makes her so special for Raghav? We never know. We are also served a Bommarillu-style monologue, with Raghav venting out his inner frustrations about the way he has been conditioned to think about life, without laying a decent basis for it in the earlier portions. Similarly, Anandi’s backstory is bewilderingly short, flimsy and dealt with in a frustratingly hurried manner.

Nabha Natesh sportingly embraces the over-the-top performance the director needs from her, but such a farcical portrayal of the said disorder never sits right with you at the first place. Priyadarshi delivers a competent performance, single-handedly elevating a few moments with his delivery despite the blandness of his dialogue, but it’s not enough to salvage this messy misfire of a film.

What makes matters worse is that the film makes space for a bonafide psychologist character (Ananya Nagalla) whose medical advice belies her professional ethics. This device only keeps reminding us how detached from reality Darling is, even if we attempted to take a leap of faith. What’s even more disappointing is that, while dealing with its outlandish ambitions of penning comedy around such a taboo medical disorder, the writers cannot resist weaving in elements around Anandi’s character that only reveal the underlying misogyny of it all. One of the many alternative personalities of Anandi’s that Raghav needs to ‘quieten’ is that of a ‘pseudo feminist’ who believes in women’s capacity to be independent. A subplot centres around a self-proclaimed Baba, who spews one too many lines about how a wife remains a curse for a man.

Also, considering the film is so hell-bent on being a ‘happily-ever-after’ kind of love story, we never know whether Raghav has made peace with his beloved’s medical condition. Anandi’s disorder is something he has to live with, forever—does he realise that things are not going to be rosy ever? If he does, the film doesn’t give any hints of it. We are served a quintessential happy ending that refuses to make space for the underlying melancholy of their fate going forward. 

There’s one merit to watching Darling, though. After watching the film, I instantly looked up the subject of multiple-personality disorder. It takes one a few minutes of detailed research to be assured in the knowledge that said disorder can never be fully cured, only managed. If only the makers actually put in these few extra minutes of work while producing this film...