‘Thamma’ movie review: Ayushmann Khurrana and Rashmika Mandana struggle to keep this horror rom-com afloat

At a time when taking umbrage is a national pastime, horror comedy is an imaginative form of creating an entertaining social commentary. With Stree and Bhediya, Maddock Films gave the genre a new life and carried the mood and message forward with Munjya. However, this meeting of natural and supernatural almost hits a dead end this week as the banner seems to be ‘marvelling’ at sustaining a desi multiverse rather than telling a compelling story. Inspired by blood sucking vampires from Hindu mythology, Munjya director Aditya Sarpotdar and his troika of writers have created a fascinating world based on the co-existence between humans and betaals and how the self-seeking creatures in both species are destroying this balance. However, both the text and the subtext remain undercooked, and what we get tastes like an adulterated Deepavali delicacy.

A journalist thriving on sensational stories on mumbo jumbo, when Alok Goyal (Ayushmann Khurrana) has a freak encounter with a wild bear, he is nursed back to life by Tadaka (Rashmika Mandana), a girl without a heartbeat. Soon, Alok discovers he is in a jungle where the tribe has its own rules. The head or Thamma (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) is confined to a cave for breaking the rules during the country’s Partition. It feels like an interesting blend of myth and modern history. On the run, Alok beseeches Tadaka to come along, and the mysterious girl agrees. In Alok’s space, Tadaka becomes Tarika but remains an outsider. His father (Paresh Rawal is pitch perfect for high decibel comedy) sees her as a honey trap to lure his son, and his doting mother (Geeta Agarwal Sharma is fast becoming Bollywood’s resident mother) is baffled by her dietary choices. Again, an opportunity to see the girl’s status in the boyfriend’s home with a supernatural seasoning. An accident allows Alok to become the blood sucking type, but can he shed his humanity?

However, most of the subversion remains on paper, and the film starts staccato and self-aware, as if the genre’s requirements have been fed to AI to create a set of jokes and hilarious situations.

The mechanical flourishes are visible. The first half feels like a dimly lit, dim-witted adventure to keep the Stree-Bhediya-Munjya supernatural universe going. The audience remains ahead of the characters as it pans out like a college-level skit on vampires. The horror element doesn’t scare you, the inter-specific romance doesn’t arouse emotions, and the comic element remains perfunctory.

As for myth-making, there has been an overkill of the Raktabeej story in Hindi cinema these days, and the poor monster feels like a piece out of anaemic imagination. Of course, the item numbers appear with algorithmic precision, and the grey shades take over in the second half.

In the larger-than-life universe, it irks when the actors give in to exaggeration. Rashmika appears wide-eyed for no reason. The help of the dialogue coach is palpable. Ayushmann keeps underlining that he is making a transition from his everyman image to a superhero space, and Nawazuddin chews up all the VFX-generated scenery in a bid to revive the image of a sly betaal once made popular by Sajjan in Ramanand Sagar’s Vikram-Betaal.

A still from ‘Thamma’
| Photo Credit:
Maddock Films

They are not bad actors but are let down by lazy writing that takes a long time to find its groove. After intermission, the beasts find pace and purpose as Aditya injects some flesh and blood into the screenplay. More importantly, the subversion, the story’s secondary layers, which make this metaverse delicious, start functioning. When the social dynamic of belonging and exclusion comes to the fore, the emotions connect, and Sachin Jigar-Amitabh Bhattacharya’s composition “Rahein Na Rahein Hum” starts striking a chord. The face-off between Bhediya (Varun Dhawan in a cameo) and Betal in Delhi’s neighbourhood raises the stakes, and the energetic presence of Sathyaraj (the flamboyant exorcist of Munjya) helps connect the supernatural strands from different universes. Add dollops of natural humour from Abhishek Banerjee and Faisal Malik (of Panchayat fame), and we have an engaging second half.

In between, there are a few fascinating insights into animal behaviour among humans and the importance of veracity among animals. The angry wolf can’t see the sight of his mirror image, and when our newly minted Betal lies, his canines show up. There is a feeble caste dynamic as well, with a Yadav police officer hiding a secret.

The top layer has to be fertile for the layers to work, but the two don’t consistently come together. In an age when the direction of the thumb judges creative pursuits, Thamma is somewhere between thumbs up and thumbs down.

Thamma is currently playing in theatres