Andhadhun. A word, to my understanding, that means a blind tune. A tune that’s clumsy and haphazard. I was told the title is also a play on the word ‘Andhaadundh’ which means blind haze, which is a clever thing to play around with because the film is just that. A woman blinded by her need to cover up a murder and a blind man in search of a few fitting notes to end his piece.
Andhadhun is about Akash, a gifted piano player, who happens to be blind. He unwittingly becomes a part of a murder cover-up organized by Simi, yesteryear’s film star’s wife. What happens between the two of them and who gets the wrong end of the stick forms the crux of the story.
Sriram Raghavan has always made sharp thrillers, some less so than others, but the intent has always been there. In this installment, he uses moments of shock and people with shocking amounts of contempt to make the viewer laugh and gasp, at times both. The way he stages the murders of the film star and his neighbor makes one want to jump up in excitement. The film has a unique way of bringing the worst in us where we actively look forward to the next murder and what a hoot it is going to be. Not to mention the subtlety with which he uses imagery and foreshadowing to make a point. For a movie that’s about murder[s], the only time we are asked to see red is when Simi wraps her chill-paste soaked hands around her husband.
K. U. Mohanan’s cinematography gracefully switches between omnipresent shots to PoV shots, lending itself to the story’s narrative—a flashback given to us by a not-so-reliable narrator. But the music by Amit Trivedi blends itself into the narrative so well that we get most of our cues into the plot and characters through it. The songs are great, but what a background score. I mean, the whole piece where Akash first witnesses the dead body is impeccably arranged to go with the player’s mindset—the highs and lows of the keys, the way they hesitate. It’s basically an internal monologue through musical notes and it beautifully seeps into the viewer’s psyche.
In the diabolical Simi, Tabu finds a role she can have a lot of fun with. Tabu has always been a phenomenal performer, but watching her play a woman who is as surprised as us by how trigger-happy she is an experience to savor. She says to an artist to go make art immediately after blinding him. She brings this coldness with a tinge of guilt on her face so effortlessly and well that you wouldn’t mind watching the film again just to look at her. Ayushmann gives a skillfully measured performance as well. Notice how he can be perceived as either innocent or cunning depending on our understanding of the film. The others add to the fun— especially Ashwini Kalsekar and Zakir Hussain.
Andhadhun is a dark comedy, filled with shady characters, masquerading as a thriller. As such, it makes you laugh more than it takes you by surprise. In fact, the parts that thrill you are the ones that make you laugh. It has a few twists up its sleeve, but they aren’t as outstanding as the setup and the people in it. Some of the plot twists feel too convenient/predictably filmy and too open-ended at times—the ending especially, but I have no complaints. The best thing about a noir film is its ambiguity. The way it introduces an idea and lets the audience go crazy with it. And Andhadhun is an idea worth chasing even if it makes you a bit breathless at times.
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