Swineeth S Sukumar’s directorial “Sweetheart!” is a bloated mess of a rom-com that relies on angst to drive conflicts between its central couple. But there’s little meat in the narrative, which is organised in a pointlessly contrived schema of opening up in small chunks. Revelation works when grounded in solid characterization. That’s entirely missing in the rocky love story between Vasu (Rio Raj) and Manu (Gopika Ramesh).
Of what use are flashbacks if they don’t spike up the complexity and richness of the film? In “Sweetheart!,” the way they are used ultimately comes across as a bit of an extreme manipulation, to cover up glaring weaknesses in the writing and prop it up where it demanded serious work. Flashbacks almost drown the structure instead of lacing it with unexpected depth, a blaze of fresh knowledge that grows to unlock a character or their motivation. None of that happens, only a blunt reiteration of Vasu’s trauma that is hammered at the viewer so much it strains interest and investment.
This childhood-stemming trauma perforates and washes over the entire gaze with which the audience looks at Vasu. He is riddled with commitment phobia, balking at marriage and the prospect of bearing kids when he himself hasn’t yet grappled with his mother’s abandonment. When he wasn’t even ten, his mother stormed out of their lives after a scuffle with his dad, never resuming touch. A few years later, his father died, and he had to grow up and fend for himself in a world that suddenly ditched him. That grief and hurt has sunk deep into his philosophy and attitude to any romantic relationship, so he dithers when his girlfriend Manu pops the idea of marriage.
Even when it claws for drama, it’s impossible to overlook how distractingly empty, wavering, and clueless Sukumar’s screenplay appears. The point is simple, but too much fuss is made about getting to them, orchestrating a roundabout way that is neither fun nor remotely absorbing. Supporting characters gather a few scenes, but each, be it the shrewd ‘blind’ old neighbour couple or Vasu’s loser friend, has no flair to grab the viewer.
Manu is incensed and deeply hurt at Vasu’s continued spurning of her interests, be it marriage or walking towards parenthood. Vasu makes the relationship all about his traumas, sidelining what she may have to say. Even as she gently insists otherwise, as do others, he tightly holds onto the memory of his abandonment. Why bring kids into a terrible, unjust world? He sticks to his argument, persistently casting Manu aside. Strangely, she remains obsessed with him despite the pain she has to endure in his presence.
A chunk of the film centers around the discovery of Manu’s pregnancy. Before that, she gets grounded at home when her family chances across Manu and Vasu together in her room. Even then, Vasu puts the blame on Manu. Yet, she nurses tenderness for him. It’s really bizarre. Pushing this forced, implausible affection on the viewer, the film works hard to inject humour and chaos into the proceedings. But these snatches are too clunky and ham-fisted to land smoothly and gleefully. Instead, it summarily halts scenes, adding a silliness that never justifies its presence. Complicated situations ensue, where Vasu has to reach Manu for the pregnancy test despite her being locked up in her room.
The biggest problem with “Sweetheart!” is that it’s just patently unfunny. Jokes don’t land, the humour is too jammed on the viewer, coercing you to laugh when prevailing emotions are just plain irritation. To invest in a helplessly mangled romance is to buy into both characters’ dilemmas and not monopolise one of their issues so much that it overwhelms the narrative. That’s what makes this film collapse quickly, and it’s outrageous that it goes on for a bewildering two and half hours. The same emotional notes are called repeatedly. Though Ramesh and Raj are sincere, the writing is too thin to stay the course. As a result, “Sweetheart!” strikes false notes in reconciliations and mending of hearts. With a buildup itself so lumbering and sluggish, the end barely matters when it arrives.
