By stepping away from the gauzy, rose-tinted lens through which Tamil cinema has long viewed romance, Aaromaley gently but firmly ushers the audience into a more grounded, contemporary space. Director Sarang Thiagu acknowledges the influence of Gautham Vasudev Menon’s romantic universe, but doesn’t remain in its shadow. Instead, he interrogates that fantasy, placing it in negotiation with real-world complexities. The result is a film that feels familiar yet refreshingly self-aware.
The story follows Ajith (Kishen Das), a starry-eyed romantic whose notions of love have been shaped almost entirely by cinema. A botched attempt to disrupt the wedding of his childhood crush lands him and his loyal friend, Sachin (Harshath Khan), behind bars—a sequence that sets the tone for the film’s spirited tussle between youthful delusion and adult reality. A wry voiceover by Silambarasan TR places Ajith’s predicament squarely in the cultural aftermath of Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa and its many disciples.
Ajith’s infatuation with cinematic love meets its match when he takes up a job at a matrimonial company—appropriately named Lifetime Matrimony—where he encounters Anjali (Shivathmika Rajasekar). Practical, composed and uninterested in playing the manic-pixie foil to his fantasies, Anjali refuses to be boxed into the template of the compliant rom-com heroine. The ideological friction between them—filmy romance vs. functional compatibility—forms the film’s emotional core.
One of Sarang’s strengths lies in the way he reimagines the romance set-piece. No syrupy montages, slo-mo glances, or contrived meet-cute songs. Instead, the film delights in puncturing those tropes, often at Ajith’s expense. The role reversal in character design is thoughtful: Ajith’s immaturity stems not from malice but misguided imagination, and Anjali’s prickliness masks a guarded vulnerability. Neither is vilified, and both remain empathetic.
The supporting cast lends the film much of its buoyancy. Harshath Khan is a live wire, his wisecracks keeping the film consistently lively. VTV Ganesh, in a subplot that promises more than it delivers, oscillates between humour and sentiment; the tonal mismatch weakens its impact. Indoors dominate the visual landscape—whether at the office or Ajith’s home—and after a point, the limited spatial palette begins to feel constricting. The shift to outdoor spaces in the latter half comes as a welcome breath of air.
A couple of narrative threads—particularly involving a troubled couple and Ganesh’s character—float in and out without truly shaping the central arc. Character transformations arrive, but not with the emotional scaffolding they deserve. Yet, the film earns points for eschewing melodrama and weaponised trauma. Past relationships are treated with dignity, and conflicts aren’t milked for cinematic victimhood.
The emotional payoff comes late, anchored by a superb turn from Tulasi as Ajith’s mother—her brief, poignant moment provides the depth that the initial domestic scenes lacked. When Aaromaley lands, it lands with warmth, reminding us why audiences still root for a good love story—minus the artificial glitter.
Sarang may invite comparisons to his mentor, but he is clearly attempting something more dialectical: not imitation, but revision. Aaromaley evolves the Tamil rom-com by gently challenging its cherished illusions while preserving its tender heart. It is imperfect, occasionally uneven, but disarmingly sweet.
★ 3.5/5
suresh 