Readers Write In #765: A Masterclass in Storytelling: Reflecting on Lubbar Pandhu

By Hari Govind

I recently met actor Vishnu Vishal at the Mumbai airport. During our brief conversation about the movies I had watched, I suddenly realized how deeply I admired “Lubber Pandhu”. Thanks to the two hours of delay of the flight back to Bengaluru, I was able to pen down my thoughts on the movie.

Typically, I rate movies based on how long they linger in my mind after watching, and this movie refused to leave my thoughts even after a fortnight—something quite unusual. I wanted to express my admiration for the director Tamilarasan Pachamuthu in the form of ‘How’ questions:

How did you conceive such a brilliant introductory scene for a supporting female character—driving her tractor  & ploughing a cricket pitch in anger, to chase away her husband’s gang who enabled his cricket pursuits? This scene easily surpasses most Thalaivar introduction sequences. I was blown away and resolved to watch the entire movie no matter what.

Most Indians are obsessed with cricket, and cricket-themed movies are countless. How did you craft a unique, sublime story that revolves around two individuals’ passion for playing cricket while also capturing the essence of the local culture surrounding the sport, including team ego clashes and personal rumblings? 

How did you realise that by blending Ilayaraja’s music (playing the song “Nee pottu vacha thanga kodam”) and actor Vijayakanth’s memories, you would automatically give the viewers the vibes of a typical village story?

How did you manage to assemble such a stellar cast—Swasika, Sanjana, Geetha, Dinesh, Harish, Devadarshini, and others? In one particular scene, Swasika’s piercing glare at Harish during his fight with Dinesh conveys more intensity and emotion than a lengthy, dramatic monologue by a veteran actor.

How did you so effectively portray vulnerable men juxtaposed against the powerfully presented women characters? Instances like Swasika refraining from crying when Dinesh breaks down like a child during their reunion, or Devadarshini calling her son Harish ‘Paithiyam’ when he rehearses his dialogue to be told to his fatherinlaw awkwardly, or Sanjana unambiguously explaining her expectations to Harish to make peace with her father to win her back, Sanjana letting Harish play the finals/pursue his passion instead of attending their own engagement—these moments speak volumes.

How did you beautifully depict the delicate bond between a father and daughter, particularly the consequences when a father crosses a line his daughter never expected him to breach when it came to her life-partner’s choice, that too in such a restrained, non-dramatic manner?

How did you ensure that every single character, even the smallest ones, received their due justice and power? Side characters like Dinesh’s friend Jansen, Harish’s friend Bala, and Kali Venkat were all etched with such clarity and purpose.

How did you break the stereotype of a typical mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship? You beautifully portrayed the mother-in-law as the ‘glue’ of the family, who proactively reunites her daughter-in-law while admitting that she became like a parent to her, despite having been a late teen herself when she entered the family.

How did you come up with scenes like the hero/tailor Harish questioning the necessity of printing caste names on t-shirts, or explaining caste discrimination subtly through the distinction between ‘Annan Mathiri’ and ‘Neja Annan?

How did you maintain the narrative’s coherence until the end, particularly when Dinesh gets out on 94 in the final ball? This moment remains consistent with his character, who finds an unusual joy in making the bowler happy in the last ball, defying the audience’s expectation of a century. Behavioral scientist Daniel Kahneman refers to this phenomenon as “Duration Neglect and the Peak-End Effect,” where people focus disproportionately on the ending, even if the preceding experience was vastly different.

How did you conceive such a delight end to this epic movie by letting the hero’s team lose to ensure the local talents are given the required motivation despite regional/caste discriminations? I bet no one would have expected that the movie will end this way

How were you able to organically integrate critical aspects of life—without being preachy—such as caste dynamics, the nuances of occupations like butcher, tailor, and shopkeeper, the value of talent and merit, cricket as a unifying force, personal finance and poverty, the struggle between career and passion, complex family dynamics like husband-wife and father-daughter relationships, the vulnerability of men countered by women’s sacrifices, ego and jealousy between talented sportsmen, the long-term consequences of early marriages, and the subtleties of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationships?

How did you manage to create a cinematic masterpiece that deserves a place in the curriculum for aspiring filmmakers, and that too, on your very first attempt?

After watching this movie, I realised that the actor Siddharth’s rant about the movie industry in decline is slightly misplaced but as passionate viewers of Indian Cinema, its our responsibility not just to make ‘Pushpa 2‘ the highest grosser of all time but to support and celebrate ‘non star’ & stellar quality movies like ‘Lubber Pandhu‘.