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04 Jul 2025, 4:15 am

Paranthu Po(4 / 5)

Shiva plays Gokul, an entrepreneur dealing with organic products, who is the father of an 8-year-old Anbu (Mithul), who thankfully stays true to his age, and never once is shown as a character that is precocious. In any other film, Shiva would have looked out of place in Ram’s world. However, the filmmaker wouldn’t have placed Shiva in any other world except the one in . It needed someone whose middle name is levity, and who can portray vulnerability without feeling the need to be overtly sentimental. Gokul is married to Glory, who is also an entrepreneur, played by the supremely talented Grace Antony, who brings a new charm to a role that could have easily been judged. That is the beauty of . Whenever the protagonists are judged by someone, the film almost immediately moves away from them without any reason, simply because it doesn’t want to associate itself with people who don’t believe in the power of goodness. Similarly, when it is the protagonist who judges others, it makes them apologise almost immediately, and instills in them the power of goodness in people. 

And in between all this empathy and judgment among the adults, Ram weaves a rather enterprising world for the young Anbu, who feels like a prisoner in a concrete world that his parents like to call home. Of course, he also enjoys the benefits of living in a city that thrives on consumerism. But also points out that he is smiling and enjoying despite his loneliness. Gokul and Glory are going out of their way to ensure Anbu studies in the best of schools, wears the best of clothes and shoes, and is surrounded by kids who come from privileged backgrounds. In fact, in a scene, Gokul tells his father that the reason why Anbu is made to study in an expensive school is that the kid would have influential friends. And Gokul wishes Anbu understood the sacrifices and struggles they are undergoing for him. While there are scenes where Anbu is adamant about having both parents at home, and not being the child who is locked in the house during half-yearly holidays because both have businesses to run, he is also the son who stands up for his entrepreneur mother when it matters. He is just eight, but at times, he is also mature beyond his age, and Ram allows Anbu to be both, at the same time. 

If it is Anbu’s arc that is reflective of Ram’s vision of new-age parenting and the rat race that no one is happy about running in, it is Gokul who keeps the film firmly grounded without allowing it to become too whimsical and far-fetched. His one-liners are hilarious and bring the roof down with alarming precision. Right from the first time we see him in a scene where he makes a simple scene of cutting a call feel hilarious to a rather poignant scene about addressing his weak dancing skills and hoping to be a father his son would admire, Shiva is picture-perfect as Gokul. He is the voice of reason that understands the need to nurture the inner child, but is also forced to look past the same in himself because of adulting. Even when he is angry about Anbu’s antics, Gokul never fails to appreciate him when he does something right. Even when he is supremely miffed, he never once forgets that he is dealing with an 8-year-old. These are wonderful traits in a character that oozes sardonic wit, but never once loses track of being a responsible father. Similarly, Glory’s parallel track in Coimbatore, where she is attending an expo, allows her to be her own person instead of just being Gokul’s wife or Anbu’s mother. 

In a film about father-son bonding, it is easy to make the mother a one-note character, but Ram had other plans. Glory is the perfect representation of the multitasking mother. In the initial scenes, we only see her as a businesswoman who also wants to be a mother. Then, we see her as a woman who misses her family, who have abandoned her for marrying a man from another religion. Then, we see her as a sister-like figure for a young girl. Then, we see her as a wife who doesn’t want to burden her husband with the truths of her frugality. Then, we see her as a woman who is forced to be afraid of certain people in an alien setting, and once again, a woman who still believes in the goodness of certain other people in the same alien setting. There is a scene where, for a brief moment, she forgets everything else and dances with abandon, and we get to see her as a woman who just wants to catch a break. And the best part of it all… once she is back into the lives of her two boys, Glory is a different person altogether. She is unbridled and supremely funny, and Ram wonderfully points out how a person is more than just their responsibilities. 

Although the premise of is rather straightforward, and the comedic approach to the proceedings is on point, the film still has layers if you are willing to look through the sweet nothings. Through the various characters that Gokul and Anbu encounter, we make peace with the inherent goodness in people. When a chance encounter at a pond in his hometown makes Gokul meet his fifth-standard crush Vanitha (Anjali), Ram treats it with so much dignity that you feel guilty for thinking of it in any other way. The same happens in Gokul’s interaction with Vanitha’s husband, Gunasekaran (Aju Varghese). More than love, trust, belief, and security, it is just the understanding that people can be all of this and much more. While they offer a peek into a contented life that Anbu wants to emulate, the couple played by Vijay Yesudas and Dia, who are parents to Anbu’s school crush Jenna, give him and Gokul the materialistic life that they aspire for. And full points to Ram for not excessively glorifying Vanitha-Gunasekaran and not vilifying Jenna’s parents. It talks about the middle-class dream of Gokul and Glory, but it is beautiful how the writing points out that it can never be satiated because it oscillates between wanting more and saying it is enough. 

One of the biggest challenges while watching was the willing submission to the style of the film. Thanks to composer Santhosh Dhayanidhi’s wonderful album, Madhan Karky’s sing-along lyrics, and Ram’s decision to treat the film as a musical, is a rather unique watch. Would this film have been the same without these songs? Probably. But do these songs work in favour of the film? That answer would decide your experience, and honestly, the earnestness of it all completely bowled yours truly over. The kids are in for a ride, but it is almost like Ram is asking the adults in the crowd to allow their inner children to smile a bit wider and find a way to rekindle the twinkle in our exhausted eyes. 

Usually, when nature is showcased in a film that aims to ask humanity to come to terms with its vastness, people are shown as minuscule and almost insignificant. Those expansive drone shots, the lush greenery, the unforgiving mountains, and the serene water bodies are present to remind us of our smallness and what we are missing out on. However, through NK Ekambaram’s terrific visuals, Ram doesn’t want to alienate humans. In , these visuals are an invitation and not a reminder. The nature in Ram’s film is very forgiving and beautiful, and treats humans as one of their own. That is why whenever we see Anbu scaling mountains, diving into ponds, climbing tall trees, and even wave-boarding on an empty concrete road, it strikes a sense of wonderment, and not guilt or regret. 

And when finally, the film ends with a conversation about home, family, parenting, loving, and being loved, you understand what Paranthu Po truly means. It isn’t to fly away from responsibility or consumerism or globalisation or troubles or bottled emotions, or even crumbling aspirations. It is to fly away from the pressure of fitting in. It is to fly away to a land of hope on a tourist visa. Yes, we have to return to a sobering reality, but it is not wrong to escape into a world of happiness, hope, and goodness. Just like the movies... Like Ram's movies.