Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum Movie Review: Anthikadian Hyper-Optimism In A Partly Funny Soapy Comedy

Director: Akhil Sathyan

Cast: Fahadh Faasil, Viji Venkatesh, Anjana Jayaprakash, Dhwani Rajesh

Looking closely at Akhil Sathyan’s first film (he is the son of legendary filmmaker Sathyan Anthikad) can be a thoroughly satisfying exercise if you’re one to consider yourself a feel geek. The ebbs, the flows, the idea of humour, the casting decisions, the narrative shifts…the first-timer’s film is sure to hit you with a truckload of déjà vu. Not only have we experienced this sequence of emotions in this particular storytelling fashion before but we’ve also watched (and re-watched) films with suspiciously similar plot-lines in multiple films made by Sathyan Anthikad before. 

Yet this statement should not sound like a complaint. The reason why most of us (including a theatre filled with people over 40) rushed to watch this low-key comedy is because it felt like a film that falls under the safe, feel-good Anthikadian sub-genre. For a man who made his first film over forty years ago, his brand of cinema has grown to become such a vital part of being Malayali that it’s beyond technical finesse or any logic of diminishing marginal utility. It’s a familiarity we seek out specifically to not be taken to a new place, quite like a drive past the house you grew up in.

Even so and even with this very specific set of expectations Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum, still remained a film that was increasingly difficult to sit through and there’s a variety of reasons for that. To begin with, when one watched Varane Avashyamundu (2020, by Akhil’s brother Anoop) we felt like we were watching an evolution of the Sathyan Anthikad template. Apart from the surface-level updates on the technical front, the film developed into a complex multi-character narrative that addressed modern issues (like the wonderful relationship between Kalyani and her fiancé’s mother) with modern storytelling. Not only was he able to retain the bits we loved from his father’s films but he also brought his own style to make it superior. 

In contrast, with Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum it’s almost impossible to differentiate the new filmmaker with his father. In that terrific monologue in Varane…, the one in which Dulquer holds a close frame as he narrates that split second before a man experiences insanity, you could see an original mind at work, co-creating an intense moment in an otherwise light film. Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum too presents a similar situation in which a character has to narrate the events leading up to her brother’s disappearance. If one filmmaker figured out his own method to deliver an emotional scene, Akhil chooses to play it safe with a predictable performance in a predictable setup. 

These are points one makes understanding fully well that it can be unfair to compare the works of two siblings. But when both films choose to consciously (or sub-consciously) utilise the benefits of their homegrown brand, you are also opening up your film to comparisons with films that are considered classics. 

And this is why it disturbs you a little more when Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum falls into the exact same pattern as films like Veendum Chila Veetukaryangal (1999), Vinodayatra (2007), Oru Indian Pranayakadha (2013) and Njan Prakashan (2018). These films are set in different places and the details of the characters may change from film to film, but you cannot deny how the larger picture remains the same. Not only are these films about lazy, directionless protagonists, looking for an easy route to prosperity (a free office in Mumbai is what Pachu is eyeing, like how Prakashan wanted to migrate to Europe in Njan Prakashan), but these are also films that are written around the man’s transformation alone.

Incidentally, these are also films that require an external character, almost invariably the heroine, to catalyse this transformation. This is the street-smart Samyukta Varma in Veendum, the tough Meera Jasmine in Vinodayatra, the worldly Amala Paul in Oru Indian or the mature Anjana in Pachu. These films often sideline the interiority of these characters, only to keep their purpose to what they teach the hero. 

Pachu too xeroxes the same notes but the difference, IMO, is how the genre shift is gentler here than in these older films. Usually, once the film transforms into the serious zone, there’s little room for its protagonist to retain humour. They shockingly turn into upright, stable gentleman to the extent where they become unrecognisable, but in Pachu, this character’s arc remains more or less believable. Of course these include jarring passages where Pachu has to suddenly grow a pair and flex in an uninspired fight sequence (choreographed by Sham Kaushal), but Fahadh manages to keep his own performance light and fun, helped greatly by the space to crack a joke whenever things become too serious. 

Over and above this thread, we also get another equation that involves Pachu’s love-hate friendship with a much older character he calls Ummachi. This too starts off interestingly enough, evoking the limitless joy we experienced when we saw Jayaram’s crackling chemistry with Sheela in Manasinakkare. Yet even this tapers off when the screenplay splits up these two characters into two separate places. 

But given the film it sets out to be, you also understand how there is a thin line of novelty in the way that it takes three women from three different age groups to fix our protagonist’s priority and for him to finally grow up. There are several one-liners and scenes that work best as separate comedy sketches, independent of the film it’s being used for. Given how Akhil feels like a natural at writing comedy, you’ve also decided to watch the film a second time once it appears on OTT.  But with the flat staging and a subservience to the Anthikad template, it’s a film that’s best enjoyed when you have the comfort of a fast-forward button.