23 (Iravai Moodu) Movie Review: An ambitious tearjerker exploring the human condition

We are so accustomed to ironic use of retro film songs now, a playful spin on our music memories to device a cool visual in action movies, so much so that when Raj R uses a sombre composition like 'O Maharshi' at a crucial juncture in 23 (Iravai Moodu), it almost jolts you with its sincerity.

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The SP Balasubramanaym song was composed for Kamal Haasan starrer Aakali Rajyam, another film about a bunch of underdogs defeated at the hands of system. By using that song here, Raj R doesn't intend to give it a spin - he merely changes the backdrop, while retaining the soul of it, for newer audience that isn't used to grittier stories like these anymore. 23 (Iravai Moodu) is a bold independent film that accomplishes plenty with its sincerity and emotional intelligence.

Written by Raj R in association with Shruti Bhatnagar and Sakshi Gulati, 23 (Iravai Moodu) tells the story of Sagar (Teja R) and Susheela (Tanmai Kushi), a young Dalit couple stirivng to build a life together, with plans of setting up a small Idli center. After his many attempts to acquire a loan go awry, Sagar, in accomplice with his friend Das (Pawon Ramesh), feels compelled to rob a bus full of passengers, but ends up committing a far bigger crime that lands him in prison and up for a possible death sentence. How Sagar deals with his life in prison forms the crux of the story.

The first half of 23 is pacey. While the plot moves briskly, the writer-director also keeps us hooked to the story in other ways. The narrative never lets us forget Sagar's social status even before he is arrested. There are multiple moments where we can see Sagar and Das getting swatted away from places, be it a small paan shop or a police station. Their presence remains unwarranted everywhere. Be it the way Das is handed over money by a cop, or how Chandra's bar membership privileges are instantly revoked at the court cafeteria, these visuals of discrimination make a strong imprint. In a chilling visual, a few upper-caste men casually stroll into a Dalit's courtyard, before setting the house on fire. It's not the violent act that stuns you, but how casually they walk away afterwards - there are no fervent warcry chants, no aggression. For them, killing someone comes as easily as walking.