AALAN MOVIE REVIEW
Cast: Vetri, Mathura, Anu Sithara, Vivek Prassana, Aruvi Madhan, Tito Wilson, Sri Deva
Director: Siva R
In Aalan, the path taken isn’t always one of choice but of circumstance. The film moves between Varanasi and Pondicherry through the perspective of Thyagu (Vetri), a man in search of spiritual solace. Raised in the 1980s, Thyagu’s troubled past quietly lingers as we meet him years later, seeking guidance from a guru in Varanasi. He returns to Chennai by train, his demeanor subdued, his thoughts seemingly distant. He’s a writer, though his creative impulses have stalled.
On this journey, Thyagu encounters Janani Thomas (Mathura), a German tourist drawn to Indian culture with an infectious laugh and curiosity. Her warmth and admiration for the Tamil language leave an impression on Thyagu, and a tentative bond forms. Once in Chennai, Janani plans a solo trip to Pondicherry, a decision that leaves Thyagu uneasy. He agrees, nonetheless, revealing a passive acceptance that characterizes much of his behavior. Tragedy soon follows: Janani is murdered by three men in a remote area, a development as predictable as it is devastating. Thyagu is left adrift, his grief prompting a return to Varanasi. Fifteen years later, he releases Aalan, a book inspired by Janani, which reconnects him with a childhood friend and offers a measure of closure.
Vetri’s performance as Thyagu leans into the character’s quiet nature, though at times his restraint borders on detachment. Mathura is lively and engaging as Janani, with her foreigner-in-Tamil-Nadu accent playing credibly. But Janani’s arc, so obviously geared toward an inevitable end, limits the depth of her role. Anu Sithara brings some needed texture to the film, especially in relation to Thyagu’s past, while the supporting cast, including Vivek Prassana, drifts in and out with little fanfare.
Director Siva’s intentions are clear, but Aalan often feels more like a sketch than a fully realized portrait. Thyagu’s emotional struggles are kept at arm’s length, never fully inviting us into his world. The film flirts with the “tortured artist” idea, but without showing much of his writing process, it’s difficult to invest in his creative crisis. Similarly, Janani’s naivety feels out of place in a context that demands more awareness, especially considering the dangers of solo travel in the region. Her fate is less tragic and more telegraphed from the moment she steps into the story. Thyagu’s backstory, meanwhile, is hinted at but never quite explored with enough depth to justify his emotional arc.
Visually, however, Aalan offers some striking moments, particularly in the hands of cinematographer Manoj Krishna, who captures the contrasts of Varanasi with a quiet elegance. The film, at just over two hours, leaves room for contemplation but not quite enough emotional impact. In the end, what’s presented doesn’t quite achieve the sense of wonder or astonishment it seems to be aiming for.