When an actor chooses to portray a character bereft of redeeming qualities, embodying the depths of human vice, they stray far from the comforting applause reserved for the archetypal heroes who grace our screens. Shine Tom Chacko, heralded as a ‘shining star’ in “Vivekanandan Viralaanu,” is such an actor, unafraid of taking on dark, complex roles, despite a penchant for incorporating personal interview quirks into his portrayals.
Director Kamal’s return to the helm after five years came with the promise of cinema reflecting changing societal dynamics. The anticipation was palpable, but the outcome disappoints—an overtly dramatic representation that stifles any opportunity for the audience to engage in meaningful thought. The filmmaker’s method is exhaustively didactic; actors reiterate “My body, my rights,” while a poet redundantly caps off the film, robbing viewers of any interpretive space.
The protagonist Vivekanandan’s disturbing double life wreaks havoc on two women (Swasika Vijay and Grace Antony), who endure his violent and sexual transgressions. To onlookers, he presents the facade of an average man, while these women languish in their silent agony, until one finally decides to revolt against the oppression she faces. This premise represents a gamble by Kamal, an attempt to rival the audacity of his younger contemporaries. Alas, the film’s execution is found wanting, lacking coherence and a true understanding of its central themes. The elements destined for failure are all there—the forced dialogues, underdeveloped storylines, and an incessant dramatic score.
The plot device of a viral video has become a cliché, a shortcut to highlight critical plot junctures without nuance. Predictably, “Vivekanandan Viralaanu” resorts to this trope, cutting to the populace glued to their screens in public spaces, as if to suggest the entirety of society halts for the scandal. That the word ‘viral’ is embedded in the film’s title only serves as heavy-handed foreshadowing for its overreliance on this tired narrative mechanic.
In a milieu where complex villains are often tempered for the sake of star power and audience palatability, it is a marginal positive that the film refrains from sanitizing Vivekanandan’s character. Still, this singular act of restraint is but a drop of sensibility in an ocean of folly; it does not salvage the film’s overall failure.
Running in theaters, “Vivekanandan Viralaanu” misses an opportunity to deliver a hard-hitting, nuanced discourse on a serious and prevalent issue. In its place, we find a movie that reverberates with the cacophony of needless melodrama and fails to leave an impression that incites either introspection or change. As the credits roll, we are left with a resounding sense of wasted potential—both of the cast and the concept that could have fostered a powerful piece of cinema.
