Varshangalkku Shesham: Vineeth Sreenivasan's Earnest But Imperfect Hat-Tip To Cinema

WHERE THERE IS Vineeth Sreenivasan, there is nostalgia. A lovelorn over-the-shoulder look at the past. There are a lot of laughs, a romanticised stab at everything familial accompanied by memorable music. Varshangalkku Shesham, the latest film written and directed by Sreenivasan is no different. It is elaborate in its call for a certain period — the film moves from the late ‘60s to late ‘70s, with brief stops in 1989 and the mid-90s, all anchored by a present-day cab ride, the driver conveniently played by Sreenivasan. It evokes songs of MS Baburaj and name drops EMS Namboodiripad. A major portion of the film is set in Kodambakkam in 1970s Madras. It references other films and other actors and filmmakers. A sincere love for cinema and regard for friendship shines through even if the hat tips all don’t stand scrutiny considering the time period. But it’s all not enough to make this as breezy as it all sounds.

Varshangalkku Shesham stars many Sreenivasan regulars, his family both in blood and cinema (he might shoot back that they are one and the same) — his brother Dhyan Sreenivasan is Venu, a young writer in the late ‘60s dreaming of the world of cinema in Madras. He chances upon Murali (played by Pranav Mohanlal, deliberately styled like his father Mohanlal) and strikes up an instant friendship with the prodigious musician. Venu goads Murali to accompany him to Madras and they set off to the world of cinema — Venu to become a filmmaker and Murali to be a music director. 

How all this transpires rests on a very thin foundation. As do big chunks of the film. There is a detour of a love story for Murali with Kalyani Priyadarshan’s Anne that can be completely done away with. Neither does it build Murali’s freewheeling force of nature character, nor does Pranav possess the gravitas to pull it off. A lot of ideas are thrown in to rush to the main conflict of the film — how Venu and Murali drift apart, how Venu finds success and Murali the bottle. For about 30 minutes, the film is directionless… if only to reflect Murali’s career in Madras. The writing here is ill thought, a supposed deliberate act by Murali, for Venu’s first film returns to haunt him. There is neither enough in the story nor the character building to justify this turn.

What follows is a repetitive storytelling pattern of Venu and Murali almost meeting again or meeting again and drifting apart. All of this with the leitmotif that Murali has composed for Venu. After a point, the song grates and the present-day search for Murali drags along with us feeling like the driver circling Venu around the Tamil Nadu-Kerala border. Only, we cannot match the driver’s excitement for this story, for the characters aren’t memorable enough, aren’t strong enough on paper, and the music isn’t catchy enough either. 

The only interesting stretch in the movie involves the film industry where Sreenivasan’s film family get together — there is Basil Joseph in a lovely cameo, Nivin Pauly making fun of himself, calling out the audience and the whole film industry, Aju Varghese doing Aju Varghese things, and a Neeraj Madhav attempted comic appearance. The satire on the film industry, though funny, comes across more exaggerated than intended. It’s particularly hilarious when we consider what the outside world thinks of the Malayalam film industry and how it is caricatured here. The film takes no prisoners.

Despite the not so imaginative digs, this is all a welcome detour from the will-they-won’t-they journey with Venu and Murali. At least if their respective love stories were removed from the script, the film had potential to be read as a potent homoerotic journey. But the film doesn’t register any of the emotional notes to even go there. It is a shame because this is probably Vineeth Sreenivasan’s most indulgent work even as he makes fun of himself; for all that intention, there are no ideas that stick. It’s unfortunate that Varshangalkku Shesham turns out to be the title that we can point to and say, hey look, the Malayalam film industry makes bad movies too.