Kadhalikka Neramillai Review

Picture Courtesy: Cine Point

Kadhalikka Neramillai – A Masterclass in Performative Wokeness

While Kadhalikka Neramillai throws around plenty of taboo topics, it does so with all the depth of a puddle after a light drizzle. It’s almost like the director fed ChatGPT a prompt saying, “Write a woke script, but make sure it’s still safe enough for my conservative uncle to watch with his family.” Having worked with AI platforms myself, I can confidently say even an AI would have churned out a better screenplay than this.

Fair warning—this review has spoilers. Normally, I’d avoid them, but in this case, they’re necessary to highlight the chef’s kiss levels of absurdity at play. Also, the movie has been out for a while on both OTT and in theaters, so if you still haven’t watched it, do so and come back.

Picture Courtesy: Movie Crow

Now, I’d love to say credit where it’s due, but when a film treats serious issues with all the respect of a high school project thrown together the night before submission, it feels dishonest to hand out compliments. That said, Kadhalikka Neramillai does deviate from the usual narratives—characters don’t end up with their toxic partners, the lead chooses single motherhood, and there’s even a gay character (for exactly 2.5 scenes, but more on that later).

The problem? These moments are sprinkled in like breadcrumbs—just enough to bait the “progressive” audience but never enough to make the “trad” viewers uncomfortable.

Shriya’s Motherhood Saga: Bold Choice, But Only in Theory

Shriya (Nithya Menen) gets cheated on by her fiancé. Since she desperately wants a child (but not woke enough to adopt), she chooses IVF. Brave decision? Sure. But the execution? Laughable.

She’s thrown out of her family home, but her chithi—a character with zero backstory or presence until now—magically drops everything to move in with her, like she was waiting for this exact moment. The convenience is almost touching.

Her best friend? Coincidentally a gynecology nurse at the same IVF clinic. Because why waste time establishing characters when you can just slot them into the plot like LEGO pieces?

Then comes the full U-turn—after all the “strong, independent woman” setup, the film doubles down on the age-old belief that a woman cannot successfully raise a child alone. Shriya’s son grows up to be a brat because how dare a mother think she can parent without a man?

Picture Courtesy: Akash Milton's Blog

Enter Siddharth (Ravi Mohan), raised perfectly by a single father (because single fathers can do no wrong, obviously). The second he steps in, Shriya’s kid transforms from a spoiled 8-year-old with the attitude of a drunk 18-year-old into an angelic cherub. Poof! Father figure unlocked, all problems solved.

The film leans so hard into this nonsense that it even throws in not one but two ridiculous “lost child” moments—one where Siddharth heroically finds Shriya’s missing kid and another where the same child somehow manages to travel interstate and miraculously lands at the hero’s house unharmed.

Kids, if your parents are irresponsible enough to show you this movie, please don’t take notes.

And just when you think things couldn’t get any more convenient, Shriya’s estranged mother—who hasn’t spoken to her in eight years—suddenly breaks down in tears and apologizes right at the climax. That’s it. Problem solved.

Man, I want to live in this world—seems like a place where happy coincidences solve everything overnight.

The Gay Character Who Was Almost There, But Not Quite

Now, onto the film’s attempt at LGBTQ+ representation.

Sethu (Vinay Rai) is gay. And, thankfully, for once in Indian cinema, he isn’t used for comic relief. Great start. They even almost discuss gay parenting. Almost. For exactly 2.5 scenes.

The film is so painfully scared of offending the “trad” audience that after Sethu’s wedding, his husband—who gets zero backstory—disappears from the screen faster than my motivation to finish this movie.

In the final “group of friends” scene, where everyone stands together like a Hallmark postcard, Sethu’s partner is conveniently rushed out of the frame while Shriya and her son get screen space. It’s like the filmmakers are yelling, “See, we showed a gay couple! Now clap for us! But don’t worry, we’ll keep it subtle so no one gets too uncomfortable.”

Picture Courtesy: Youtube

A Lone Bright Spot (And It’s Not Even That Bright)

If I had to scrape together something positive, the now-famous virginity scene actually made me chuckle. And, to be fair, unlike OK Kanmani, the film doesn’t force its lead couple into marriage just to tie things up neatly.

They decide to remain unmarried, which is… something? I guess?

But then, in classic Kadhalikka Neramillai fashion, it undermines its own point. Siddharth, who starts off as a “I don’t want kids, the planet is doomed” guy (even breaking an engagement over it!), suddenly becomes a kid-loving, football-teaching, instant father figure. No pregnancy period struggles, no actual responsibilities—just an instantaneously lovable 8-year-old, ready to be taught football while he romances the mom. Magic.

Now, stepping away from the narrative for a second—people who know me know I’m a huge A.R. Rahman fan. His music has a hold on me like nothing else. But let’s be honest—his golden 90s era remains unmatched. Lately, I’ve found that his albums take time to grow on me—they eventually do become earworms, but they don’t captivate instantly the way his older hits used to. 

Picture Courtesy: Desimartini

Kadhalikka Neramillai’s tracks unfortunately felt very mediocre. Maybe it’s because I felt like he could create better tracks in his sleep, but the album just didn’t work for me. And to make things worse, the lazy visuals did nothing to elevate the music. The only song I ended up replaying was Yennai Izhukkuthadi, mostly because it was the only impressive one. Disappointing, given the talent behind it.

There’s nothing to say about the performances because absolutely no one does anything specifically important or different from the roles they’ve played before. You could swap this cast into any other film, and it would make no difference. It felt like the movie was taking too much inspiration from OK Kanmani—not just in its sanitized, picture-perfect sets and costumes, but also in how everything looks aesthetically pleasing, but nothing feels real or lived-in.

Final Thoughts: Pick a Side and Commit

Picture Courtesy: The Hindu

In the end, Kadhalikka Neramillai is the cinematic equivalent of someone who really wants to be progressive but is too scared to fully commit. It throws in just enough “woke” elements to pat itself on the back but then backpedals hard to keep the traditional audience happy. And that, dear readers, is how you get a movie that pretends to care about important topics but delivers nothing more than aesthetic progressiveness.

Request to writer-director Kiruthiga Udhayanidhi: Pick a lane. Choose your audience. If you tell your story with sincerity, it will resonate beyond your target demographic. But don’t pretend to care about serious topics just to earn “woke points” while delivering a watered-down, comically contrived narrative.

Kadhalikka Neramillai wants to have its cake and eat it too—but all it ends up serving is an underbaked, flavorless mess.

If you must, you can watch Kadhalikka Neramillai on Netflix.