‘Nesippaya’ movie review: Contrived writing clouds Vishnu Varadhan’s promising premise

Vishnu Varadhan’s track record may not be the most consistent but he is an interesting filmmaker, to say the least. Even that odd film that misses its target has a distinct something that tickles your brain. And so when Nesippaya begins with the shot of a middle-aged man (the film’s hero Akash Murali) crashing his car onto a school bus, before pointing his gun at the school driver, you are intrigued; Yuvan Shankar Raja’s title card score further sets up the tone of the film that follows. But then, when this shot recurs later on in the film, you may not incline so positively to it, even questioning Vishnu’s decision to begin the story with the same.

A lot goes for a toss in Nesippaya but the core of Vishnu’s story poses potential, weighing in on the narrative treatment to appeal. From afar, it isn’t anything we have never seen before. Arjun (Akash) learns that his ex-girlfriend, Diya (Aditi Shankar), is imprisoned in Portugal, having been wrongly accused of killing her boyfriend Karthik Aadinarayanan (George Kora), who happens to be the son of a business tycoon Aadinarayanan (Sarath Kumar; Khushbu Sundar plays his grieving wife Vasundhara in a commendable cameo). As one expects, Arjun flies to Portugal, where lawyer Indirani Johaan (Kalki Koechlin; the finest performer in the film) is fighting a losing legal battle.

From hereon, Nesippaya alternates between two narrative tracks: One that looks back at what transpired between Arjun and Diya, leading to their fateful break-up, and the thriller that awaits Arjun when he digs into Karthik’s murder case. The memory of Vishnu’s popular romance thriller Sarvam flashes in, but the storyline and setting do strike a thin resemblance with 2008’s Dhaam Dhoom (coincidence being the release of a Ravi Mohan film alongside Nesippaya). As is the case with most romance thrillers, for the larger narrative to work, the emotions that drive the protagonist need to stick, the backbone of which lies in Arjun and Diya’s romance arc.

We follow two diametrically opposite people; Diya, a sane college-going woman who quickly shuts down the annoying antics of Arjun, a man-child who thinks sending a spree of stickers on WhatsApp is a cool way to open a conversation with his crush. Here’s a woman who doesn’t bottle it all up but voices out when she feels something isn’t right. He, on the other side, is still in the emotional age where he believes in a push-and-pull tactic to get her attention. She isn’t the most sorted of individuals but has the awareness to be upfront about her commitment phobia. Meanwhile, reasoning his overbearing attitude as an expression of love, this clingy man sees no problem in incessantly calling her during office hours, prompting her to wonder if he’s insecure about her. His excessive love-bombing even prompts Diya to wonder if all this lovey-dovey will stay the same.

For how much of Diya’s professional life is shown, Arjun appears consumed by his relationship with her. He even deserts his life in Chennai and follows her to Bangalore, appearing anything but a sorted, self-sustaining man. It’s his relationship with Diya that gives any meaning to his life, not the other way around.

Aditi Shankar and Akash Murali in a still from ‘Nesippaya’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Witnessing this relationship take its course, a serious film viewer — aware that Diya had a boyfriend after Arjun in the present, and that our lovelorn boy is not over her — would assume that it is this toxic love that would have caused the drift, ushering Arjun on a transformative path. But when that doesn’t happen, you wonder if you have been giving the film an unfair benefit of the doubt. In Nesippaya, every warm narrative slant finds a Northern pole, and with every assured step it takes towards something novel, it leaps back to a dull terrain.

We are told that it was Diya who misunderstood Arjun’s ‘love’. Why does this relationship continue even after he makes a huge decision for the both of them without her consent? And so you wonder if Diya isn’t the emotionally intelligent female lead you had pictured from the beginning. You then begin to search for a bone of authenticity in these characters. In one instance, Diya asks for her rightful personal space, a dialogue that would have merited credit if it wasn’t followed by an explanation: personal space isn’t just about being allowed to have individual equations with friends and family, isn’t it? Strangely, Aditi’s delivery makes it seem like Diya hesitates to ask for space for herself. Perhaps in another movie, a partner wouldn’t hesitate to voice their basic needs.

Telling this romance story is where Nesippaya could have become something more than ordinary; it only confuses you about the kind of film it wishes to be. The thriller that follows is trite, predictable and contrived, to put it straight. Much of it is stuck on a pattern: Arjun does something irrational, disobeying Diya’s legal counsel Indrani, but somehow moving an inch closer to cracking the case (nothing but a protagonist’s advantage). The case we follow isn’t anything remotely interesting either. The very minute Diya revealed what truly transpired, you know where this is going — the expository scene is another problem; why is Diya telling this to Indrani now? You wonder how Indrani took the case without a rudimentary conversation with her client.

When the final knot unravels, you lose any love left for Nesipayya. A prevailing social concern is used as an ‘innovative’ trope to replace the ordinary. You wish writers understand that without a moment, or at least a dialogue, that speaks of the plight of those victims, this becomes a mere gimmick. Just recently, a Malayalam thriller had a similar reveal; while even that film could have cut slightly deeper than what it tried to, it’s sad to see a director like Vishnu take superficial swings at a sensitive topic.

Nesippaya might not be the dream debut he wished for, but Akash Murali does promise great things. He looks the part and gives his all, whether it is a stunt-heavy chase sequence or a tender, tranquil moment with his lover. Of course, he could have toned down a bit, like by avoiding that annoying ‘I love ooo’ (meant to be a half-eaten ‘I love you’) or that gesture he makes in a pivotal moment, symbolically catching Diya and taking her into his heart. Aditi, on the other hand, looks more confident in Nesippaya but fails to come into her own in scenes that need a higher dramatic pitch.

But then, witnessing these young actors give so much, you wish the text had more to support their efforts. With no stardom-driven demands weighing him down, Vishnu couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to push the boundaries. His visuals look crisp and stylish, and many action scenes like the one set in a horse stable hold your attention, but the effect withers without the right emotions. Even Yuvan’s terrific background music — ‘Sol Nee Sol’ and ‘Tholanja Manasu’ are the pick of the lot in the soundtrack — ends up as a solo violin to the flat writing.

Nesippaya is currently running in theatres