*Spoilers ahead*
The music in the recently released Tamil romantic drama Love Today is unexpectedly telling of its sexist undertones. No, it is not the groovy ‘Pachai Elai’ set to tune by Yuvan Shankar Raja, but the background music playing out in correspondence to the quarrels between the film’s protagonists Uthaman Pradeep (played by Pradeep Ranganathan who also directed the film) and his girlfriend Nikitha (Ivana). Upon finding that they have been dating each other, Nikitha’s father Venu Shastri (Sathyaraj) challenges them to exchange their phones for a day and assures them that if they’d still like to proceed with the relationship, he would support them.
When the couple swaps each other’s phones, Pradeep finds out that Nikitha has been sending flirtatious messages to her ex-boyfriends and going out with them. Meanwhile, Nikitha discovers that he has been sliding into the DMs of several women on social media, on the pretext of being a filmmaker who wants to cast them in his next short film (The scene is accompanied by a casteist and racist joke about women wearing ‘tribal’ attire).
A sombre background score — usually reserved for scenes tracing the emotional highs of a character — plays while Pradeep confronts Nikitha and questions, “Neenga vilayadradhuku engala madiri nalla pasanga vazhka dhan kedachida" (you want to have fun at the expense of the lives of good guys like us)? Cut to a few scenes later, when Nikitha confronts Pradeep about falsely posing as a filmmaker, a peppy background score is used in the backdrop. Only the makers could speak to whether these were conscious attempts at invalidating the woman’s experiences or if it was an outcome of the gender bias they hold, but such disparity between the treatment of its lead characters can be felt throughout the film.
Love Today had a great box office run following its release on November 4 this year, but it also garnered criticism — especially from social media users — for its misogynistic outlook. The makers conveniently equating Nikitha’s ‘misdoings’ with Pradeep’s, without acknowledging that the latter had clearly breached cyber safety norms, was perhaps the single-most criticised aspect of Love Today.
Nikitha also finds out that the intimate photos she had shared with Pradeep, which were to be deleted once he views it, were stored in his phone. This, like a number of other slip-ups from Pradeep’s end, is conveniently brushed off. The exciting premise of exploring the perks and perils of sexting — which many feel has become integral to dating — is also squandered away.
The contradictory sentiments and biases embodied by Pradeep’s character also go unnoticed. Pradeep does not mind saying “Vazhkayila ivala oru daravayachu patham paakanum” (which literally translates to ‘I want to ride her at least once in life’) pointing to a stranger, but would say “Pin Kuthiko” (use a pin while draping your saree to cover yourself) — an alternate to ‘Duppatta podunga doli’ — to his girlfriend. Much like Tamil meme creators who made Nithya Menen’s Shobana in Thiruchitrambalam ‘the best girl bestie ever’ but would slut shame their girlfriends if they had a ‘boy bestie’ (Case in point: Atharvaa in Imaikkaa Nodigal), Pradeep is not comfortable with Nikitha talking to her best friend Revi. He admires Nikitha for being all lovey-dovey in the track ‘Saachithale’, but mocks her for addressing her ex-boyfriend as ‘Mamakutt-yyyy’.
Although Indian standup comics have long bid farewell to the ‘my parents/ partner found my browser history’ trope, the makers of Love Today decide to beat the dead horse with the sequence in which Nikitha stumbles upon her boyfriend’s search history. A visibly disconcerted Nikitha questions him about his porn-viewing habits. Pradeep responds with the question: “Have I ever misbehaved with you?” When she replies saying he has not, Pradeep says it is because he would watch porn before he meets her. Dear Nikitha (who seems to be suffering from the Arjun Reddy syndrome), if your boyfriend tells you he’d misbehave with you if he does not have access to porn, either quit the relationship or urge him to seek psychological help. The suggestion that pornography reduces incidence of abuse is as baseless and unscientific as an argument can get. If anything, pornography has led to more sexual violence and abuse as has been illustrated in various studies on the subject.
As Love Today inches towards its climax, a huge fight breaks out between Pradeep and Nikitha when she finds out about the fake Instagram account he has been using with a number of other people. This account indulged in a wide range of offences from trolling, bullying, pulling pranks on, and sending inappropriate texts to unsuspecting people, to sexually harassing others by posting and sharing offensive sexual comments, and extorting sexual content through impersonation. The men using the account also sent offensive and inappropriate sexual texts to Nikitha and her sister, completely disregarding their lack of interest and consent.
When Nikitha refuses to believe that the account is used by many people and places the entire blame on Pradeep, the latter turns into a self-pitying hero seeking to be exonerated. Of course this scene had to play out along with an emotional background score as the protagonist — to prove that he is indeed an Uthaman — dubbing lines that seem like they are straight out of Samuthirakani’s films. “Unmai ellam nambadinga, poi ellam nambunga” (You don’t believe the truth, but you believe all the lies) and “Na panala, panirundha naan pannen nu solirupen” (I didn't do it, I would have admitted to it if I had). Although the filmmakers have made an attempt to include counter arguments against the protagonist, with Nikitha calling him out for using an anonymous shared account and being complacent in the first place, Pradeep still has the final say.
The misogynistic outlook of the filmmakers is also apparent in a scene where Nikhita reads his chats in a Whatsapp group where her boyfriend and his friends discuss sexual fantasies and exchange erotica, a scene that is glaringly similar to the boys locker room row. The men in the group sharing photos or comments about women without their consent is not something the makers seem to be worried about. Numerous scenes in the film made this writer wonder whether Pradeep was filming a “How to say ‘men will be men’ without actually saying it” reel.
Love Today’s half-baked attempt at depicting the risks posed by morphed videos and the repercussions of revenge porn unsurprisingly falls flat. A morphed video of Nikitha sexually engaging with another person goes viral, only for it to be followed by Pradeep playing the supportive boyfriend and to put him on a pedestal. This is further established when Pradeep finally tracks down the perpetrator (played by YouTuber Vijay Varadharaj), Nikitha’s coworker who uploaded the morphed video. Pradeep records a clarification video where the co-worker admits that he had used an app to use Nikitha’s face and shows the original video, exposing the face of another woman. What about her privacy? Irony died a thousand deaths seeing ‘Uthaman’ right a wrong only when his girlfriend is the victim. (The Vadivelu dialogue “Idhukku edhukku da velaiyum solaiyumma suthanum” comes to mind).
Besides, would Pradeep be equally compassionate towards Nikitha if the video was not morphed, but was an original released without her consent? The makers of Love Today are careful not to act in defiance of regressive notions around ‘purity’ and ‘virginity’ of women. In the archaic world created by Love Today, women don’t kiss their boyfriends or watch porn.
When Nikitha reads out some of the sexually coloured comments and messages shared by Pradeep and his friends in the Whatsapp group, she looks uncomfortable, understandably so. But does the film give room for Nikitha to explore her sexual desires without being shamed? The scene also reiterates the stereotype of women being displeased or unaware about their sexual desires, thus entering the murky and problematic territory of women’s refusal or lack of consent being counted as a ‘yes’. Perhaps this is a far-fetched argument, but it is tough to give the makers of Love Today the benefit of doubt.
In multiple instances, Pradeep shames Nikitha assuming that she shares a sexual relationship with her ex-boyfriend. “Unakkena ipo avanoda poi suthanum, adhanala dhane potu elathayum thirupina. Po poi suthu (You just want to go roam around with him, go, roam!),” Pradeep is heard saying towards the end of the big fight that breaks out between them. It forces viewers to wonder whether Pradeep is enraged about Nikitha cheating on him or her being sexually active.
Watch the trailer of 'Love Today':
The roles written for Love Today’s supporting characters are also equally problematic.The mother (Radhika Sarathkumar) who is obsessed with Pradeep using phones (the joke which only lands the first time), and the girlfriend, who works in an IT firm but needs her father’s help to figure out how WhatsApp messages are restored, seem like caricatures. One cannot help but feel sad for the director’s ex-partner whom he says he has dedicated the film to. It is the brief romantic narrative between Divya (Raveena Ravi) and her fiancee Dr Yogi (Yogi Babu) which comes as a refreshing departure from the rest of the script, and would have made a better film than Love Today.
The introductory montage of Venu Shastri, a Brahmin man, has shots of him tidying himself up, removing black pepper from a plate of pongal, wearing poonal (sacred thread), applying a thilakam (a mark worn on the forehead), and playing the veena. Him playing the string instrument also works at a metaphorical level, implying that he is the one in control. After this elaborate sequence involving not-so-subtle caste indicators, one hopes that the character gets called out for his privileges, or at least expects the filmmakers to offer some comic relief through witty jokes slamming Venu for his caste privilege, since humour seems to be Pradeep’s go-to tool to discuss serious subjects. However, over the course of the film’s running time, we only see Venu Shastri’s positioning as an upper caste person being reiterated for no good reason. He is also surprisingly projected as the man who had the foresight to equip the couple to face the curve balls thrown at them.
Once again, a series of regressive practices are normalised and go unnoticed. Take the scenes featuring the person delivering water cans to Nikitha’s house. Pradeep diverts audiences’ attention to the joke about Venu being a miser. Audiences might forget to notice that the local grocer never sets foot in the house, mimicking the reality of upper caste households practising untouchability. “Swetha (Nikitha’s younger sister), Indha naay ah thorathu (chase this dog away!),” Venu says while staring into Pradeep’s eyes. Swetha then enters the scene to show her pet the way out of their living room. Pradeep smiles when he sees the dog sitting behind him, knowing that Venu was not referring to him, but the implication couldn’t have been clearer. Pradeep does not belong to the same socio-economic class and caste as Shastri. This was yet another one of Venu’s attempts at belittling Pradeep.
The father then takes a dig at the boyfriend’s physical prowess and body image by testing whether he’d be able to lift a can of water. However, in the very next scene, when water spills, it is Nikitha who mops the floor, not Venu, the able-bodied, ‘mighty’, cleanliness-freak who was flaunting his physical strength moments before. After Venu comes up with the ingenious idea to make Pradeep and Nikitha swap their phones, Pradeep has another meeting with him after he discovers that his girlfriend has not been completely transparent with him. This time, it is Pradeep asking Swetha to show the dog his way out, it is Pradeep questioning Venu, while the latter looks dejected with a smeared thilakam. (Understanding rocket science might be less arduous than demystifying how and why women are considered the preservers of the family’s honour.) It is a joke based on the tables being turned, but it works only when Nikitha is viewed not as a thinking individual with a mind of her own, but as the liability of either her boyfriend or father. If only Nikitha, like Vivek in Aethirree, had said “Joke Joke. Illa Illa!”
Untouchability, women being forced to conform to gender roles, parents being dismissive of their children’s partners who don’t belong to the same caste, class or social background, are commonplace in upper caste Tamil households. When filmmakers mirror such realities in films, doesn't it become their responsibility not to glorify perpetrators as well-meaning individuals and not normalise such behaviour? Would the victims in these situations smile and happily comply instead of feeling enraged and violated?
Towards the end of the film, Venu says that until a few years back, parents would come up with schemes to separate lovers. However, in the present day, couples themselves part ways due to their differences and inability to face hurdles. It is ironic that the film released around the same time when the death of Shraddha Walkar sparked discussions on why parents cut off ties with their children and refrain from offering support if they are not in agreement with their children’s life choices. Not to forget the ghastly caste-based ‘honour’ killings that continue to make the headlines.
The points made in this article are likely to be countered with the argument that expecting all filmmakers to understand social injustice is too big of an ask, or to cut him some slack since Pradeep wouldn’t have picked this plot if he wanted to show a sexist, macho hero. There might even be opinions that it was simply not the film that Pradeep wanted to make. We are, of course, discussing this at a time when mainstream Tamil filmmakers can make films riddled with misogynistic dialogues and freely say they do not know what feminism is. But isn’t it fair for viewers to expect the filmmaker to be aware of what every frame symbolises and how it adds to the film?
Clearly, the makers have spent a great deal of time visualising social media interactions and timelines through innovative graphics. They diligently play Pradeep and Nikitha’s ringtones ‘Kadhal Needhana’ and ‘Unmai Kadhal’ every time their phones ring, as a juxtaposition. If only they had put the same kind of effort into delving deeper into the subjects they want to discuss.
Why did Nikitha feel the need to hide things from Pradeep? How do couples in long term relationships trust one another and yet give each other space? If Pradeep’s physical needs are not satisfied in the relationship, doesn't it become imperative for him to discuss it with his partner? Is swapping phones healthy and does it actually help a person understand the different sides of their partner’s personality? How does one find the balance between not trusting their partner and trusting them too much?
If Pradeep simply wanted to make a logic-defying entertainer like, say, director Sundar C’s films, none of these questions would come to the fore. But that is not how Love Today positions itself. It sought to ask these very questions, but falters, and does not add up to anything meaningful.