Neru Review: A Nuanced Depiction Of Consent With An In-Form Mohanlal

Director: Jeethu Joseph

Writers: Santhi Mayadevi, Jeethu Joseph

Cast: Mohanlal, Anaswara Rajan, Priya Mani, Sidhique, Santhi Mayadevi

Duration: 150 minutes

Available in: Theatres

Jeethu Joseph’s Neru is your straightforward courtroom drama — among other things, about navigating the complicated corners of the Indian judicial system. And there’s nothing really wrong with an ousted advocate (Mohanlal) fighting for the justice of a young woman (Anaswara Rajan) violated by a man who comes from wealth, even if we’ve seen it play out on the screen many times. But what Jeethu and Santhi (whose expertise in law lends Neru a unique touch) do with this film is what makes this a memorable fixture in this genre. It takes all the tropes of the courtroom drama, nodding along with every stock reactionary shot and heavily vitriolic defence lawyer, only to open our eyes and ears to an ingenious take on a woman’s right to consent. 

Neru wastes no time in showing us where its focus lies. Even if it tells us the story of Sara, a visually-impaired youngster who is raped at her own house, it doesn’t dwell too much on the actual incident. In fact, in just its first five minutes, we have the perpetrator in our hands. Sara cannot see, but she can sculpt. “She uses her hands to see,” she is described at one point, and one cannot escape the beauty in the line. Where it uses its time, however, is in the intricacies and frustrations of finding justice in an Indian courtroom. “Shouldn’t I confirm who abused me?” asks Sara in a moment of delicate honesty in the film to her lawyer Vijayamohan (Mohanlal), who then painfully explains to her and us, the follies of the adversarial legal system that binds our courtrooms. It’s a very simple point Sara raises, but it still sounds necessary because Neru shows us that no survivor of abuse reacts the same way. This is evident even in scenes of her testimony in court that depicts the angst and anger of a woman who is gaslit for not behaving like a typical survivor. Mohanlal takes the backseat and lets Anaswara lay her wrath bare, an anger that spills from the box and onto the screen. 

In a genre that leans towards making the brilliant lawyer (who is oftentimes a man) save the innocent woman, Neru shows us a survivor who is equally intelligent. Sara’s courage is never once patronising enough to shame survivors, nor is it negligible. She is an almost perfect character study of a survivor who labours for consent in one scene, and yet is given the space to crumble and fall apart in another. Her sculptures often speak for themselves, and on her behalf, even if we’d have still liked to know more about Sara than just what she’s passionate about. Scenes of abuse here don’t titillate, but it still could’ve been completely done away with in a film that otherwise gives its women the agency to tell their story.

While Neru clearly pushes stardom to the backseat, a few remnants of the tradition remain. So, we obviously get clownish public prosecutors and advocates who goof up before getting someone like Vijayamohan. But Mohanlal plays this prosecutor with a kind of coolness that surpasses the film’s often-stilted dialogue. Responsibility looms large on the PP, but he never once lets himself become bigger than the case (there’s even a nice little Drishyam joke tucked into the film in this context). This makes us forgive most of Neru’s snags in its cinematic language. We might be talking about wine in a bottle, but at least this wine is new. It might just be alright even if the bottle isn't.