One-line review: A “gangsta” gangster movie.
The film’s title means excitement and writer-director Jithu Madhavan leaves no stone unturned in his quest to entertain. For example, the title song, the pulsating “Illuminati” (already a hit before the film’s release), is cleverly placed at the end when the credits roll so that an already roused audience gets up and dances. The over-the-top film throws every trick of the trade at you, but they work because of the thoughtful detailing behind the scenes, including the film’s title logo, which tapers towards the end with an upward arc. Madhavan says it reflects the film’s emotional arc that begins from an over-the-top wider angle and moves into the protagonist’s inner conflict towards the end.
The film, loosely based on the director’s college day experiences, is told from the perspective of three young boys from Kerala who come to study in Bangalore (known for its dime-a-dozen Engineering colleges). Ragging, a rite of passage for first-year students, is common in these colleges. Although it usually entails harmless teasing by the seniors, it can escalate to dangerous and even fatal heights. The three boys annoy their seniors (led by the menacing pint-sized Kutti, played by a superb Midhutti) with their nonchalant attitude and are beaten to a pulp in the name of ragging. Although Kutti now considers the boys part of his gang after this rite of passage, the boys are not ready to forgive him and vow revenge. They decide to seek out some local gangsters to beat up Kutti and his gang.
The boys hang out in the local seedy bars, hoping to befriend some gangsters, but they have no luck. But one day, in a twist of fate, they meet a feared local gangster Ranga (Fahadh Faasil, who is introduced brilliantly), who also takes a fancy to them. The rest of the film revolves around the boys’ experiences with the eccentric and unpredictable Ranga and his gang. Many hilarious incidents ensue, and we also get glimpses of Ranga’s past told by his equally over-the-top lieutenant, Amban. Soon they get Ranga to beat up their seniors but also get embroiled in Ranga affairs. The excitement of hanging out with a gangster turns into fear and annoyance when they start flunking their exams and see Ranga’s gray shades. Their efforts to extricate themselves from Ranga is told as an edge-of-the-seat thriller, but everything ends happily and hilariously.
Some have unfairly criticized the film’s scant plot, but when you watch it multiple times, you are blown away by its precise detailing. For example, even Ranga’s change of style in the end is tied to his new identity and car. Or how Ranga, who mostly speaks Kannada (Bangalore’s local language) at the beginning of the film, begins speaking more Malayalam (his mother tongue) towards the end in the company of the boys. Similarly, the movie chosen for the critical dumb charades of movie names scene allows Ranga to display all his shades. Madhavan’s script deftly weaves high drama, hilarity, physical comedy, suspense, and heartbreaking pathos.
But the script transforms into an unstoppable juggernaut because of Fahadh Faasil’s unhinged and unabashed performance as Ranga. He is menacing, vain, stupid, hilarious, naive, and sensitive. Faasil’s role is challenging since the film parodies many tropes of Indian gangster movies, including the omnipresent mother, who is the gangster’s soft spot. But Ranga’s plaintive cries for his mother in the final scenes are heart-wrenching and could have become comical in the hands of a lesser actor. Although you don’t realize it when you first watch the film, the script subtly takes advantage of Faasil’s superstardom; he, though a gangster, is the only one who emerges as human. The seasoned producer Anwar Rasheed convinced Faasil to do the role, saying that the audiences crave an over-the-top Faasil. We have seen many shades of an eccentric Faasil, but Ranga is unique; he’s a gangster and failed actor (according to Faasil).
The rest of the cast is also pitch-perfect. Ranga’s sidekick, the menacing yet teddy-bearish villain, Amban, is played brilliantly by Sajin Gopu. As director Jithu Madhavan points out, both Ranga and Amban are hyper characters, and the film would work only if Amban could ride roughshod over his boss. Their chemistry is captured beautifully; Amban adores his boss but cannot clamp down on his natural showmanship (the scene in which his boss helplessly watches him destroy his birthday cake is just one example). Madhavan rightly points out that the film’s comedic and stunt scenes are not novel, but they work because we can’t have enough of the lovable characters.
Since the film is told from the perspective of three college students, getting their casting right was important. The three rookie actors and social media influencers Hipster, Mithun Jai Shankar, and Roshan Shanta Kumar (whose role was extended after seeing his initial performance) match each other’s energy beautifully. Yet, after multiple viewings, their characters come across as shallow and self-serving, and I hated them for exploiting Ranga. It’s this multi-dimensionality that makes Aavesham so appealing. Many minor characters are unforgettable, like Ranga’s mute driver Nanjappa (Krishnakumar, a real-life Karate instructor), Pooja Mohanraj as the call girl, Neeraja Rajendran, as the mother whose warmth is evident even when we don’t see her (the reason for casting her). Some characters like Ranga’s mentor, played by the famous star Mansoor Ali Khan, the second call girl, or some of Ranga’s gang members don’t make much of an impact, but those are minor blips.
A stellar technical team backs the film. Ace cinematographer Samir Thahir takes us inside the student dorms and the seedy bars and plants us in the middle of Ranga’s birthday celebrations (an exhilarating experience) with deft lighting and closeups. Editor Vivek Harshan aces the challenging task of ensuring the film runs on fourth gear for over two hours; Anjali Kale’s set design (most locations are sets), including the unique swimming pool (Madhavan’s idea), is top-notch. Costumes are by Mashar Hamsa, who gives Faasil an unforgettable look but outdoes himself with the younger Ranga’s look. Chetan Souza carefully choreographed the stunts to ensure all the fights were different yet thrilling. Frankly, only the final fight scene worked for me, but who cares as long as you can see Ranga and Amban in action. Even Ranga’s weapon of choice, a bottle opener with a knife at the end, was carefully chosen so that it doesn’t overwhelm like a sword but is lethal and doesn’t spill much blood. In fact, despite the violence, the film has no bloodshed, another ploy to attract all audiences.
But the film’s aavesham (enthusiasm) would not be so infectious without Sushin Shyam’s pulsating tracks (each sung by a different artist) and the equally punchy and everyday lyrics of Vinayak Sasikumar, who stuck to his guns for retaining the controversial word Illuminati in the title song. Shyam, who thinks hit songs are easier to compose than lingering melodies, delivers with every song. Each one is hummable; I heard a little boy humming “Jaada” with all the lyrics intact and an Indian group marching to “Illuminati” in a parade in the US.
Although I missed the theatrical experience of watching the film with a cheering audience, it is strangely comforting to know that, like the boys in the movie, I can join Ranga and his loyal gang anytime with my Prime subscription.
