Andhaghaaram Movie Review - Smoke Smoke Everywhere

Andhaghaaram reignited my fears of spending almost 3 hours with a film only to be disappointed.

Andhaghaaram in English translates to "Darkness." One of the three men in the film, Selvam (Vinoth Kishan), is blind. Andhaghaaram tips a hat to this disability but is really about the other dark corners: secrets, suspense, and mood. How mood? Director V. Vignarajan (this is his directorial debut) conceals crucial information from us and the characters only handing out bits and pieces at certain points. The set-up is intriguing - a mysterious phone call, a haunted room, a notorious book, and a peculiar doctor. Vignarajan maintains this mood, which helps in the smooth transition from the psychological to the supernatural.

Apart from his lost eyesight, Selvam is another ordinary man working as a clerk at a public library. He is so honest that he refuses help from his teacher during an exam to answer a question he could not recall. "You might have helped me now, but in the next exam, I'll expect the same from someone else," he justifies. His father was a renowned occultist, and this past catches up on him when he takes on the task of freeing a room in a building from the evil spirits. This decision comes after the dire need of money for his kidney operation.

Then there is a cricket coach Vinod (Arjun Das), who has drowned himself in the insanity of guilt over the condition of his best friend Pradeep (Vijithan). It is after gifting a book on the occult to Pradeep that he started suffering from an unknown mental disorder. Vinod believes the cause to be the book. Greatly disturbed, he prefers being locked away inside his room and doesn't mingle much with guests. His girlfriend thinks it disrespectful when he behaves the same with her brother. Things exacerbate when his phone is replaced by an old landline that starts troubling him with threats and tricks.

The third main thread follows Dr. Indran (Kumar Natarajan), a famous psychiatrist who survived the bullet shot fired by one of his patients. He may have recovered but not his voice. Even his license is taken away. The council has made a decision to grant a permit if he passes the evaluation tests. Indran doesn't give a damn. He starts approaching his patients, treating them most effectively. Bedridden or those in wheelchairs start moving around after just one session. Their faces put on a creepy smile. Indran assures one of the patient's wife, "Well, we are only done with the first session. Just wait until the end of seven sessions. There will be remarkable changes."

Expectedly a film with multiple storylines is bound to intersect with each other. Andhaghaaram plays with this convergence by manipulating the timeline. The result is an almost captivating slow-burner that loses steam before exploding into a fire. Giving information with constraints was working fine. Sadly, towards the end, it indulges in slothful exposition where someone spits the puzzle pieces in place. Our hero had already uncovered so much information, then why impede him with a belaboured phone call? Perhaps, I wouldn't have heeded this bit if the runtime had been shorter. But such an underwhelming payoff to a sit through spanning 2 hours and 51 minutes summoned anger within me.

Andhaghaaram works as a resume for V. Vignarajan. His ideas - of life, relationship, death, redemption - are present as a "display of his skills" in treading these waters than fully cooked meat to chew on. I didn't care much for the Selvam-Pooja track or Selvam-Uncle track or any other track for that matter. What I liked was Vignarajan's vision. And now that he has made Andhaghaaram, he should move on to make a better film.

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