Maaman Review: Soori's Film Is A Celebration Of Traditionalism As Virtue

News18

16-05-2025

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Maaman Movie Review: Beneath its sentimental warmth, Soori's Maaman clings to outdated ideals under the guise of virtue.
Maaman Movie Review: There is an old couple in Maaman played by Rajkiran and Viji Chandrasekar. His name is Singarayar and hers is Pavun. Their subplot has no bearing on the central conflict (which itself doesn't seem to find closure), but this digression is intended to draw a parallel between their relationship and that of the lead couple Inba (Soori) and Reka (Aishwarya Lekshmi). It's a rural attempt at recreating Ganapathy Iyer (Prakash Raj) and Bhavani Ganapathy (Leela Samson) from Mani Ratnam's OK Kanmani. If you've followed Tamil cinema since the late '90s, you'll know exactly how this relationship will play out—down to its morbid end. A running, friendly tussle between them is that Singarayar only buys her flowers but doesn't braid them into her hair himself. The emotional payoff is designed to move you to tears, and if it does, Maaman will strike many such chords throughout. If it doesn't—and you squirm at the melodrama—the film will feel like a bundle of clichés.
Moving to the central conflict of the film, it revolves around the strong bond between Inba and his nephew Nilan aka Laddu (Prageeth Sivan). Nilan is the long-awaited child of Girija (Swasika) and Ravi (Baba Baskar). Girija has been harshly criticised and slandered for being childless till 33, and so her affectionate brother Inba becomes deeply attached to Laddu and obsessed with his well-being. This unwavering devotion to his family draws Reka, a doctor treating Girija, to fall in love with him. However, Nilan grows equally obsessed with Inba, much to a bit of dismay of his father. The conflict arises when Reka and Inba get married, and he continues to prioritise Nilan over her. Nilan monopolises Inba's time and affection, leaving Reka alone in a marriage.
The film remains mostly engaging until this conflict surfaces. It becomes frustrating to watch the adults' parenting, as they remain oblivious to the brat Nilan is becoming. Neither the child nor the grown-up manchild Inba understands boundaries. Still, the film's gaze on this relationship is reverent. When questioned about the growing tension with his wife, Inba tells his father-in-law, 'Give it four to five years, he (Nilan) will not mind me at all, even if forced." Inba shows no concern for Reka, and when she relocates them under the guise of a job transfer, he weaponises the truth to shame her for her physical needs. When Inba slaps Reka for questioning his bond with his sister, Singarayar says, 'I have never raised my hands against my wife, and she proudly proclaims it all over. I have pride in it too, and you just lost that respect." This encapsulates the film's philosophy on familial relationships. According to Maaman, slapping a wife is ordinary—it only becomes honourable when refrained from.
While such deep-rooted sexism is a problem in the film, it isn't the source. The root issue lies in the deification of traditionalism. Everything familial is framed as virtuous. Inba's self-destructive devotion is portrayed as noble. While the film occasionally feigns sympathy for Reka, it subtly shifts the blame onto her. In the end, she is the one apologising to Inba for pulling him away from his beloved family. Nilan's accident—caused by his father's carelessness—only reinforces Inba as the better caregiver. The film is quietly skewed in Inba's favour, even while pretending otherwise. Crucially, it never addresses how the family will resolve the Inba–Nilan dynamic. It's implied that Reka will simply accept it. Worse, the film concludes with a hint that Nilan is turning into a toxic version of Inba for his two nephews.
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