‘Happy Raj’ movie review: George Maryan cannot save this tiresome, insincere comedy romp

The chief issue with the film is that everything leading up to the ‘message’ seems crass and exploitative. For over an hour, the Maria Raja Elanzhezian-directed film tries to get you to empathise with the plight of its titular protagonist — all the problems in Anand Raj a.k.a Happy’s life lead to his father Kathamuthu (George, who gives his all for the film), whose short gait and appearance are a subject of ridicule among the townsmen. Happy grows up with a lot of shame due to this, and you do understand why he feels this way — it would certainly affect one if you are constantly bullied due to your school teacher-father’s nickname ‘Kuthiraimuttai,’ meaning horse’s egg, and if even your college love interest breaks up with you for this, citing humiliation.

Now, Happy Raj would have been a different film had it actually cared about the wretchedness of this situation — it instead uses it for cheap gags or to generate sympathy for Happy. From the many quirky close-ups of George’s face to shots of him walking out of the shower half-naked, the film puts him through a lot. When it isn’t about George, the film uses Happy’s cracked mirror for momentary pleasures — like how Kavya (Sri Gouri Priya), Happy’s colleague who becomes his girlfriend, feigns a reaction when a hesitant Happy sends her his family portrait for her approval.

How Kavya falls for Happy is another cringy affair — she is one of those much-memed “I can fix him” women who sees in Happy a man who can mend to her ways. In one of the many numbing moments later, she explains how she felt sorry to see an unconfident man.

Happy Raj becomes repulsive and regressive very soon, from a scene in which Happy’s ill-advised father brings a whole town to attend the wedding anniversary celebrations of his prospective in-law, Kavya’s business tycoon father Rajiv (we need you, Abbas) and her mother Reena. For Kathamuthu, this was akin to the traditional bride-seeing ceremony, so he came with his clan, donning traditional attire and carrying offerings. However, their presence and “unsophisticated” behaviour humiliate the “more classy” Rajiv. Again, Happy and Kathamuthu make a case against this classism later, but until then, the film exploits this trope for cheap gags and portrays the village folks as barbarians who can’t take a cue.

That this whole sequence is meant to be the crucial turning point for Happy and Kavya adds undue pressure to make it as funny as possible. But even jokes that aren’t about George Maryan’s looks, background or the consequent situation do not induce laughter. The presence of Madurai Muthu and Adhirchi Arun as Happy’s friends, too, does nothing to save the film. A bit about two North Indian, paan-chewing train seat-occupiers who later keep appearing at different social gatherings Happy finds himself in, gets annoying after recurring a few times.

Geetha Kailasam, GV Prakash Kumar and George Maryan in a still from ‘Happy Raj’

Let’s now address the tonal change towards the end — you see this ‘message-y’ climax coming from miles away. And yes, if taken without context, this might seem like an honest, progressive point. In an industry with a sketchy history of body-shaming, it’s commendable for a mainstream film to take a stand against it, to argue that it’s what’s within that reflects a person’s real beauty. However, director Maria demands a lot to forget all the coercion we must endure to get to that point. For instance, at one point, Kathamuthu points out how even his own son, Happy, is biased and sees him as more malleable than the sophisticated Rajiv. If anything, this only paints clearly the hypocrisy in the film’s stance: even the film seems to believe that George Maryan is more suited for such humour than Abbas.

Be it a scene between Kathamuthu and Rajiv on a riverbank, or one that features the central father and son, there’s a lot of heart in the climactic portions that make you wish a better draft — one that took its endeavour more honestly — with some wittier jokes. It would have then truly been a Happy Raj.

Happy Raj is currently running in theatres