Iravin Nizhal review: A preposterous film that pretends to be deep, emotional and affecting

Parthiban's disgusting puns seem plucked straight out of forwarded messages on WhatsApp, and will appeal to the self-indulgent male crowd.

Parthiban in Iravin Nizhal/Twitter

Iravin Nizhal

Plot: Iravin Nizhal, conceived, written and directed by Parthiban, was publicised as the world's first non-linear single-shot film. Although the makers claim they pulled off a technical feat, I couldn't make a head or tail of it.

Review: Parthiban is someone who deliberately wants to be "different". I am all for it if that trait was present in him naturally. But, no! The man tries; tries very hard... Okay, never mind. In 2014, he made Kathai Thiraikathai Vasanam Iyakkam. The film remained true to its tagline—a film without a story. In 2017, he came up with Koditta Idangalai Nirappuga—which means fill in the blanks. But the film in itself was blank. In 2019, he made Oththa Seruppu Size 7. We never saw anyone else in the frame, for that matter—except Parthiban, the narrator. I admire his confidence. I really do! In 2022, here comes Iravin Nizhal.

When Parthiban is involved, you don't expect this-is-how-a-film-should-be. Naturally, my mind went blank in the theatre. Before the actual film began, we were shown a 30-minute video that demonstrated what went into the making. We are told a simple mistake like a wrong expression or movement could have negated the entire effort, leading to a retake from the beginning. We are shown the goof-ups. Someone screwed up something at the last minute, and the team had to start all over, again. Parthiban loses cool. He reacts and yells at that person. This gets captured on the camera, too! Parthiban, further, tries to milk sympathy from the audience, by saying he had to eat spoiled biryani to keep the film going.

The cast and crew members shower praise on him, including K Bhagyaraj (who mentored him), and AR Rahman, for the filmmaker's "remarkable" and "groundbreaking" effort. We get an interval; after which a glimpse into Nandu's (Parthiban) life follows.

Iravin Nizhal tells the story of its protagonist, a loan shark named Nandu, in its 90-minute runtime. The man's life is full of regrets and tragedies. He has been abused, raped, deceived, and corrupted. Now, Nandu goes on a hunt and has a gun at his disposal. Meanwhile, police are chasing him. He visualises a woman, but she's gone in the blink of an eye. And, there are scorpions around him. He's stuck. He's in danger. But, we don't perceive any tension despite all these stakes. Simultaneously, Nandu examines his life and misdoings.

Cut to his past. We see Nandu lie on his dead mother's bare breasts. Then, while growing up, the boy seeks solace in a graveyard. As days went by, he witnessed everything that a boy shouldn't at that tender age. But that's not an excuse for Nandu to shame his first love for choosing some other man over him. Nandu is everything that a man shouldn't be. He's a plain disgrace. Iravin Nizhal is not subtle. It's outrageous. It's violent. It's indifferent—all in one. Parthiban wants to sound intellectual, I guess. So, he laces the script with ruminations (read: voice-overs). In mainstream cinema, voiceovers are usually used to punctuate flashbacks and, to a lesser extent, to introduce characters. Whereas, in Iravin Nizhal, voiceovers are everywhere. I felt I was harassed by the neverending voiceovers. I kid you not. I mumbled to myself, "Will you shut up, Parthiban, so that I could experience the film…”

But here’s the thing with voiceovers: If the narrator is a character within the film, there is a possibility that what we hear is not exactly what transpires. This is true in particular when he recounts events from the past or his dreams. In case the narrator is unreliable, what is being said becomes less significant and less interesting than how it is being said. That's what happens in Iravin Nizhal.

Let’s not even get into the so-called romantic portions that are equally horrendous. There's zero intimacy in these relationships. Everything appears stagy—the situations, the characters, the way they speak and act. In one of the scenes, Chilakamma (Brigida) comes to Nandu with a toy, so that the man knows his wife is pregnant. (Someone, please kill me already!) For a second, I thought I was watching an MGR film!

Then, Nandu jokingly tells his second wife (played by Sai Priyanka Ruth), that the “child was born out of rape, after all”, when she said she liked him, as the father of her daughter.

Iravin Nizhal barely qualifies to be called ‘cinema’. The chaos is the result of insensitive writing. Even those who commit the gravest crimes deserve not mere social anger and revenge, but instead the opportunity to discover their capacities for human goodness. I am not sure why Iravin Nizhal didn't take this path. The problem with the film isn’t just that it is unfunny, it is unimaginative and often cringe-worthy and regressive.

Moving on... Only Parthiban should answer why he brought in Robo Shankar and Varalaxmi Sarathkumar as the fake godman and his mistress. The whole episode resembles a mess and leaves us with a lot of unanswered why(s) and how(s). Some bland writing spoils what could have been an interesting subject for a short film. A few things, which are meant to evoke laughter, fall flat—like Parthiban himself, who communicates a “matter joke” in English with earnestness.

Verdict: If not for the effective background score and music, I don't know what would have happened to Iravin Nizhal. Parthiban should thank his stars for having gotten AR Rahman on board. As an avid film-goer, I have concluded that when someone calls his film, "experimental cinema" it just means he had no idea of what he was making.

Iravin Nizhal is running in theatres.

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Cast and Crew

Parthiban

Sai Priyanka Ruth

Varalaxmi Sarathkumar

Robo Shankar

Amitabh Bachchan

Actor

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