‘Tere Ishk Mein’ movie review: Aanand L Rai’s romantic tragedy is confusing and magical in equal measure

Here, he dissects the anatomy of the violence that so-called alpha males/stalkers unleash with a painterly flourish. He does not see him as a domineering “animal” seeking to protect his territory in some concrete jungle, but as an ordinary man inhabiting the ravine behind shining India. Her hurt, her anger feel real – not a cosmetic counterpoint to the heroine’s rise in popular culture. Together with AR Rahman, Rai composes a chaotic symphony of desire and despair that seeks to strike a balance between psychological depth and unbalanced melodrama, often leaning towards the latter.

In addition to the mythical iconography, Shankar (Dhanush) and Mukti (Kriti Sanon) present the clash of two worldviews on romance that have existed since time immemorial. Son of a notary (Prakash Raj), Shankar, a student activist, who carries the pain of his mother’s painful death, is a wild force living a lower-middle-class existence.

Mukti, a psychology student, sees Shankar as a potential subject in her doctoral thesis on social violence, in which she posits that love can cure anger. She sees violence as an appendage that can be eliminated without harming the body politic, but she cannot see the storm that spreads beyond the books and laboratories until it threatens to sweep her away.

Reduced to a stone, Shankar initially sees her as a body with utilitarian value for “fun”. Both fulfill the conditions of the social layers in which we live, until physical appearances become immaterial, when writer Himanshu Sharma scratches the surface to give us the ticket to the soul of his protagonists and the environments they inhabit. Social conditioning does not allow Mukti to cross the class barrier, but it encourages Shankar to channel his violent streak in the right direction. Or rather, the direction that takes you towards it. Will he get there? It’s a long, winding story that takes off and comes back to earth, both literally and metaphorically, but it’s a story that needs to be discussed.

It may require a younger set of actors to portray the naivety that love and the nuts and bolts of storytelling require for a soft landing, but Rai is dedicated to Dhanush, and the actor tries his best to overcome the drawbacks to make us believe.

As Shankar, Dhanush gives a revelatory performance that internalizes every scar of unrequited love. Such is the power of his performance that even if you disagree with Shankar’s worldview, he tears down our emotional-intellectual structure to create a space for himself in our hearts and minds.

The contours of the story and character require Shankar to be a northern boy. It is difficult to imagine a South Indian as president of the Delhi University Students’ Union. Furthermore, the logic inherent in the class/caste conflict would have worked better if the makers had not given in to the desire to satisfy Dhanush’s fans on their home turf. Like the university segment, the Air Force segment does not move smoothly towards the main stream. Atrangi Re suffered because the emotional core of the story was not perfectly integrated into the crust and mantle. Here, the gap has been filled, but the flaws remain, leaving a shocking impact.

Kriti Sanon and Dhanush in ‘Tere Ishk Mein’ photo | Photo credit: Special Arrangement

See also  the best heist movie of recent times

In his previous two matches with Rai, Dhanush did not get the same support as his female counterpart. Here, Kriti presents a credible portrait of the vulnerability of the rich and educated class. As a girl who breaks the glass ceiling in professional matters but struggles to deal with the chaos within, she keeps it raw and dignified at the same time.

As Shankar and Mukti’s parents, Prakash Raj and Tota Roy Chowdhury masterfully bring out the unspoken part – the social divide that seems so deep that even challenging it seems foolish. But cinema allows you to jump, and Rai has done that many times. He may have scored zero before, but here he scores and moves.

Speaking of the score, Rahman’s music, as always, takes time to grow on you, but somewhere in the middle, it envelopes you, with the signature “hmmmmm” motif making hearts flutter in tense sequences.

The final act feels stretched and bloated, resulting in emotional fatigue, and when Rai and Himanshu start over-explaining the context, we think hmmmm….

Tere Ishk Mein is currently showing in cinemas.