Lubber Pandhu review: A nuanced drama unfolding on the canvas of a sports film

Harish Kalyan picking a fight with an older man, in a film that’s a biting commentary on the fragility of the male ego, could be a genre unto itself. Like the actor’s satisfying previous outing Parking (2023), Harish returns to play the young guy locking horns with a suave boomer in Lubber Pandhu. But this time around, it’s his future father-in-law (Dinesh) and the battle is set in a much more complicated space — the cricket ground. But debutant director Tamizharasan Pachamuthu isn’t just interested in showing us a frivolous battle of testosterone on the ground, something that concerns just men. He instead takes the canvas of a sports film to tell a perceptive drama about identity and dignity, all the while retaining the brilliant pace of a genre film. 

The film, which follows the ego tussle between two men of different generations, is quite tacit in its treatment of things. Take caste for instance. Anbu (Harish Kalyan) dreams of playing for his village cricket team Jolly Friends. But he isn’t permitted entry, despite being a brilliant bowler. There is a lot of internal red tapism — we all know what this implies. 

It is this dream and pain that he internalises as he plays for every other team nearby, but only as a guest player, and never a team player. We can sense the simmering rage. But Lubber Pandhu is gradual and waits for just the right time to pick its battle. 

A conclusion of this rage comes in a brilliant scene between Anbu’s friend (Bala Saravanan) and Jolly Friends’ captain (played by a delightful Kaali Venkat), where the nuances of casual casteism is exceptionally explained. The film takes on several other ideas and breaks it open with maturity. 

Despite its focus on a sport that’s testosterone-heavy – men slur expletives against competing teams from the aisles, looks of aggression are exchanged, grunts are let out when sixes are hit and wickets are secured – Lubber Pandhu stands out among a line of such sports films that normalise male toxicity and aggression on the field and off, in domestic lives. 

This is best depicted in the rocky relationship between Gethu (Dinesh) and his wife Yesodha (Swaswika). Gethu is loving and devoted to his wife. But he finds a thrill in lying to her and flying off to the cricket ground, while the ever-angry, cricket-averse wife cuts up rubber balls with sharp blows of her vegetable knife. But the film doesn’t dismiss Yesodha’s anger by making her out to be the ‘crazy woman’ in the marriage. “Being a good man is different from being a good husband,” she claps back at the leading men whenever needed.

While much of Lubber Pandhu revolves around Anbu and Gethu’s pursuit of cricket, it doesn’t leave their partners behind, as intriguing as their game might get. Just as Yesodha gets to make a mark in this film, so does her daughter Durga (Sanjana Krishnamoorthy), who goes on to become Anbu’s fiancée. 

The film’s incisive lines replace the need for long-drawn emotional dialogue. Like Durga, who doesn’t explicitly express her emotions, the film too manages to serve its ideas — whether it is questioning or quashing the patriarchy — through economical discourse.

The writing is taut and never once lags, especially in the second half. Even the dramatic set pieces that involve the two warring families take place much like the one on the cricket ground, where we’re taken through waves of highs and lows. 

In between all of this, Lubber Pandhu never once takes itself too seriously andis all sorts of breezy. If Gethu is a Vijayakanth fan who gets a rollicking Raaja number from Ponmana Selvan (1989) as his entry song, Vijay fan Anbu picks Pokkiri (2007). The film delightfully posits a battle between Vijayakanth and Vijay, even if the former was the latter’s mentor in real life. 

Lubber Pandhu is a film where gully cricket commentary fills the ears, men use the paint on their house to depict team loyalty, and for a change, the bride’s parents assert dominance over the groom’s. It is also a film where cricket isn’t just cricket, but an analogy for something much bigger. 

If there’s anything Sruthi loves more than watching films, it’s writing about it. Sruthi Ganapathy Raman’s words can also be read in Film Companion, Scroll.in, and The Times of India.

Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.