In a genre that leans towards making the brilliant lawyer (who is oftentimes a man) save the innocent woman, Neru shows us a survivor who is equally intelligent. Sara’s courage is never once patronising enough to shame survivors, nor is it negligible. She is an almost perfect character study of a survivor who labours for consent in one scene, and yet is given the space to crumble and fall apart in another. Her sculptures often speak for themselves, and on her behalf, even if we’d have still liked to know more about Sara than just what she’s passionate about. Scenes of abuse here don’t titillate, but it still could’ve been completely done away with in a film that otherwise gives its women the agency to tell their story.
While Neru clearly pushes stardom to the backseat, a few remnants of the tradition remain. So, we obviously get clownish public prosecutors and advocates who goof up before getting someone like Vijayamohan. But Mohanlal plays this prosecutor with a kind of coolness that surpasses the film’s often-stilted dialogue. Responsibility looms large on the PP, but he never once lets himself become bigger than the case (there’s even a nice little Drishyam joke tucked into the film in this context). This makes us forgive most of Neru’s snags in its cinematic language. We might be talking about wine in a bottle, but at least this wine is new. It might just be alright even if the bottle isn’t.