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Many say there is no place for ego in sports. They must be out of their minds. Where there is talent, there is ego, and when there is ego, there are differences, and where there are differences, there are disputes, and where there are disputes, there are societal hierarchies, and it is in between all of these that debutant director Tamizharasan Pachamuthu balances a delicate tale of love, family, and cricket in Lubber Pandhu.
In many ways, Lubber Pandhu might seem cut out of the same cloth of Blue Star, but it stands out because the focus is more on interpersonal relationships. It is grounded by the aspirations of the protagonists ‘Gethu’ Poomalai (Dinesh) and Anbu (Harish Kalyan). It is elevated by the strong emotional cores of Yashodha (Swaswika) and Durga (Sanjana Krishnamoorthy). And what truly sets the film apart is the brilliant support cast featuring actors Bala Saravanan, Jenson Diwakar, Devadarshini, and Kaali Venkat. They play characters who push the narrative ahead but they are not cardboard roles at all. They get individual moments of brilliance, and yet are moulded firmly into the narrative. This efficiency in writing is what makes Lubber Pandhu a truly terrific issue-based film that ensures bitter pills are swallowed, but not before a dollop of honey is given on the side.
In Lubber Pandhu, Tamizharasan mixes cricket, romance, male ego, and caste hierarchy in the right proportions to tell the tale of two cricketers Gethu and Anbu. It is beautiful how audacity and affection drives every character in the film. Even though caste-based discrimination is an underlying theme of the film, it never overpowers the narrative. But it isn’t too subtle for the audience to miss out on the social commentary either. There are many parallels between Gethu and Anbu, and once again, it is not pronounced and in-your-face, but a simple layer that adds extra value to the film. The same parallels are drawn between the love stories anchored by Yashodha and her daughter Durga. Yashodha’s rough love for Poomalai is similar to Durga’s equation with Anbu. Poomalai and Anbu might be at loggerheads every single time they meet on screen, but the real story, and the real chemistry is between them and their respective partners.
Take, for instance, the scene in a bus involving Durga and Anbu. Staying true to the fiery nature of her name, Durga expresses her love and admiration for her lover, Anbu, but not at the expense of her father, Gethu. Similarly, the only time we see Gethu become vulnerable in the film is when he breaks down in front of Yashodha. Both are beautiful scenes that just have a simple dialogue or two without any rousing score to make us feel things. And yet, we do, because this is as close to reality as cinema can get. What is love, if not being vulnerable? What is love, if not being accommodative? What is love, if not being adamant? And what is love, if not being understanding?
While Lubber Pandhu’s commentary on caste seems to be subtle, it is anything but. The punches land perfectly, and it will make people reflect on the casual casteism, and the ingrained biases. Change can happen only if we understand that something needs to change. Tamizharasan also ensures that it is not the film’s ‘heroes’ who spout the monologues about inherent casteism. It is beautifully explored through the equation of Yashodha and her mother-in-law (Geetha Kailasam). It is wonderfully exemplified in the scene between Kaathaadi (Bala Saravanan) and Karuppaiah (Kaali Venkat). These beautifully understated scenes explore the utter nonsense of caste barriers, and how humanity and love trumps everything else. And Lubber Pandhu guides us towards realising the importance of this understanding. The film isn’t interested in providing solutions to questions you don’t even know. It is more targetted towards posing these questions. But again, it takes a slightly utopian approach to certain resolutions on this issue, but when a film keeps a lot of things grounded, it is okay for it to aim for the stars at times. They say sports is the greatest leveller, and in a country like India, where even this doesn’t always ring true, utopia is the only way to go ahead.
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Lubber Pandhu can also pride itself in being a technically strong film thanks to its cinematography by Dinesh Purushothaman, editing by Madan, and music by Sean Roldan. Sean revels in this space with his songs being perfect additions to the narrative, and the background score knowing when to step back, and when to go ahead in full throttle. The same can be said of the visuals of Dinesh, who keeps us rooted at the spot of the happenings without giving us a sense of being alienated. The work of Madhan is exemplary, especially in the cricket sequences, which always deliver the sense of watching an intense final between the world’s biggest teams, even if it is being played in a dustbowl in an interior town of Tamil Nadu.
With so many things going for the film, there are a few slight niggles that feel disengaging. Of course, the brownfacing of the actors is a major deterrent, and it is only the convincing performances of Harish and Sanjana that makes us look past it. But nevertheless, this continues to be a problem in Tamil cinema.
Here’s the Lubber Pandhu Trailer:
Except for the final scene, it is wonderful how Tamizharasan never once drives home a point with the strength of a pull shot over covers. It is mostly a well-timed straight drive that does the trick. He plays perfect textbook shots throughout the innings, and the rare audacious pull or ‘dilscoop’ feels out of place. But it is okay because the film isn’t just about cricket, male ego, and romance. It is also about caste hierarchies, and Lubber Pandhu makes a compelling case for the importance of inclusion.
Talent can come from anywhere, and you can’t stop it from bursting out through closed doors, veiled grounds, or tall walls. Talent will find a way, just like how Tamizharasan has found a way to enter mainstream cinema and tell a story that he truly believed in. Lubber Pandhu is the result of honesty, brilliance, and cheekiness, and is testament to the ideology that love will trample every difference that comes its way. It will take time… probably more than the time it took for the price of a rubber ball to go up from Rs 15 to Rs 35, but it will happen. It has to.
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