Thiruchitrambalam [dir. Mithran Jawahar]

I'm probably shooting myself in the foot by saying this, but Baradwaj Rangan's review of Thiruchitrambalam gives a rather good analysis of what works and what doesn't in this 2022 Dhanush vehicle. With a piece that comes more than a year after the film's theatrical release (and a couple of months after it started streaming on Prime), I suppose I am rather late to the party. But then the film itself is drawn in good measure from Hrishikesh Mukherjee's cinema as well as the 90's Hollywood rom-com.

The Thiruchitrambalam of the title is the embarrassingly archaic name given to the characters of both Dhanush and his grandfather (played by director-actor Bharatiraaja, who in his heyday was known for his rural dramas and remarkable crime thrillers). Of course, almost no one calls them by this appellation. Instead, both are commonly addressed as 'pazham' (literally fruit, roughly translating as simpleton). It is a simplification that to some extent also defines how the world sees them.

Thiru Jr makes deliveries for a food aggregator app, while the retired grandfather takes care of the house. The third member of their home is the father (Prakashraj), a police inspector. At the beginning of the film, against visuals of an automobile accident, Thiru Jr monologues about how life is like a piece of glass even a single crack can destroy. The crack is reflected in the broken relationship between son and father. At home they either completely ignore each other or bicker using the grandfather as a go-between. In the first scene we see them together, the inspector father slaps Thiru Jr at the police station when he is taken there after having being dragged into a scuffle.

That's the other trait for Dhanush's character. Far from the archetype South Indian 'Mass' hero, he runs away from the mere whiff of confrontation (except his verbal spats with dad). His profession also becomes a source of awkwardness when he has to deliver meals at the homes of former college-mates, including the girl he had a crush on (Raashii Khanna). If Thiru Jr has any feeling of freedom, it is in the company of his neighbor and 3:00 am buddy Shobhana (Nithya Menen). As Rangan's review points out, Shobhana is in many ways Thiru's polar opposite. Where he is pessimistic and withdrawn, she is a bubbly go-getter. She lends Thiru a sympathetic ear and backs him up when he doubts himself, but is also brave enough to laugh at his confusions while giving him pragmatic advice. Given this is a mainstream romantic drama, one can see where this leads, but the writing and the chemistry between Dhanush and Nithya keep the journey interesting.

One way TCB deviates from the rom-com template is by allotting sufficient breathing space to the drama in Thiru's family. The animosity between father and son is not reduced to cute standoffs - When towards the interval point the father suffers a major health calamity, for a long time it is Thiru Sr who must serve his son's needs because the grandson cannot find it in himself to tend to the man he has thus far hated. Which is not to say that their lives are wholly grim. The vibe between the grandfather and the grandson remains a warm and humorous one. They share pints and opinions; Thiru Sr serves a similar function as Shobhana in the narrative: he's a sounding board, life coach and motivational speaker to his grandson; he even doles out love-life advice.

The little details, the dedication to keeping a low-key approach is where TCB shines. Where other films would make a huge do about the reconciliation of father and son, where the son getting over his timidity would be an extravagant 'HERO' moment with slow-motion, wire-work and guitar-driven BGM, the scenes here play out with a minimum of directorial fuss, and the characters remain within their skins. As writer and director, Mithran Jawahar deserves kudos for not stooping to incorporate the star mannerisms Dhanush employs in his 'mass' films.

Of course, there are flaws in the bigger picture. Rashii Khanna as a former classmate calls Thiru a topper that abruptly disappeared after college. Surely if you are in the same city, it can't be that hard to track a classmate, and even in the pre-smartphone days, news of family tragedies did travel. While class consciousness is a continuing sickness in our society, the way in which Thiru Jr's classmates openly jeer at his lowly occupation in public is a cheap way to garner sympathy for his character. The most significant "Tchah!" moment for me was late in the narrative when Shobhana is suddenly revealed to have been infatuated with Thiru right from their schooldays, as her brother claims, when he scatters a boxful of unsent Valentine's Day cards from her. It reduced her from the pragmatic, supportive friend to a stereotype wallflower from a more primitive age of Indian cinema. Thankfully it doesn't entirely take away from the charms of the film, which remains watchable.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that TCB was one of Tamil cinema's big hits for 2022. That this breezy low-key character drama managed to stand well amidst the din of the adi-thadi (biff-pow) Ajith, Vijay and Kamal starrers is a heartening trend.