Although the class-crossed romance here is endearing, Bejoy Nambiar’s directorial feels a little thin on the thriller aspect. It still remains a respectable adaptation of the Thai film The Pool.
Rating: 
( 2.5 / 5)
By Mayur Lookhar
Creature films and survival thrillers have high recall value. You may have seen them umpteen times, but the thrill of watching a man-eating creature always sends shivers down the spine. For a country that enjoys creature films, Indian cinema produces very few of its own. The icchardhari naag-naagin tales are dear to us, but the terror of reptiles, big cats, dinosaurs in Western films has an altogether different joy. And bringing this potential joy is Bejoy Nambiar with his film Tu Yaa Main.
Story
Though they come from different strata of society, Nalasopara rapper Maruti Kadam aka Flow Para and social media star Avani Shah aka Miss Vanity hit it off instantly. Their romance blossoms from Virar to Churchgate. The couple heads off to Goa for a retreat and some soul-searching. But their bike breaks down midway in the Konkan region. A local cop guides them to an inn nearby, where Avani hits the pool the next morning. Little did Avani (Shanaya Kapoor) or Maruti (Adarsh Gourav) imagine that they would soon get stuck in a drained-out pool with an uninvited reptile, and no one around to hear their cries.
Screenplay & Direction
An official Hindi adaptation of the Thai film The Pool (2018), Tu Yaa Main’s producers tried hard to initially conceal its origins. The bizarre thing, though, is how Himanshu Sharma is credited for the story. The Pool and its director Ping Lumpraploeng get only a brief mention in the opening credits. With the core plot untouched, one wonders what Himanshu Sharma and Abhishek Bandekar (screenplay) have brought to the fore that sets it apart from the original.
Lumpraploeng’s The Pool has its personal relationship and conflict, but by and large, it is a survival thriller. The Thai film begins and ends at the pool. With remakes or adaptations, you’re compelled to ring in changes to stand out from the original. It’s here that Himanshu Sharma and Bejoy Nambiar harp more on the class-crossed romance, fleshing out its two principal characters. The opening scene sees a lusty Konkani woman being devoured by an unseen force in the lake, followed by a brief sight of Avani whistling in the drained-out swimming pool. The film then moves back to the preceding events, beginning with a social media star and a poor rap artist meeting for the first time. For the next good hour, this plays like Gully Boy charming a princess.
For decades, Indian cinema sold the idea of class-crossed romance, but as the Indian middle class grew economically, such tropes started feeling far-fetched and boring. It’s a gamble taken by Nambiar, but the director convinces you with the story. It’s not so much their respective talents, but perhaps the genesis of this relationship lies in Avani’s quest for a meaningful, rooted connection – a break from her superfluous world of social media. The reason they click is that the duo is real and never pretentious. They are at loggerheads when confronted with a critical personal crisis. Maruti’s views, shaped by his humble background and fear, while Avani is simply peeved at why the world is trying to dictate things to her when she is more than capable of facing any challenges. That’s when the dichotomy arrives: Who bends here – Tu yaa main (you or me)?
Mankind will forever be polarized by social and political views, but nature doesn’t discriminate. Calamity sweeps everyone in its path. In the reptile’s eyes, both Avani and Maruti are simply food. But adversity also reveals character. From earlier bending, Tu Yaa Main now acquires a connotation of sacrifice, yet neither is prepared to lose the other.
Phew, one gets so consumed by the Miss Vanity-Flow Para romance that you wish it just continued. Hey, but isn’t this supposed to be a creature film, a survival thriller? Perhaps Nambiar too got carried away with the love story, making Tu Yaa Main feel slightly thin on its gripping survival thriller promise. The initial kills are frightening, but thereafter the man-versus-wild conflict lacks sting and innovation. The film’s final 30 minutes are a letdown. It’s here that The Pool is miles ahead of its Hindi adaptation because of its constant fear factor that lasts even after the man-vs-wild conflict ends. Presumably not blessed with riches like their Indian counterparts, The Pool still stood out for its gripping, nerve-wracking, and realistic man-versus-wild conflict. Save for a few scenes, chiefly in the pump room, the rest of the reptilian action in Tu Yaa Main lacks appeal. Maybe civil engineers are better equipped to comment, but can a 20-foot pool, completely drained 48 hours earlier, hold heavy rain water? Did we miss something?
The Hindi film scores a point over the original by featuring pool stairs and a large ladder on the poolside, which, unfortunately, is locked. These were absent in The Pool. Mind you, in the Thai film, it was a makeshift pool as part of an outdoor film set, destined to be abandoned after the shoot.
Performances
Nepokids are usually introduced to conventional romcoms, but her debut film Aankhon Ki Gustakhiyaan revealed Shanaya’s taste for novel scripts. Tu Yaa Main follows suit, and the young actress gives a better account of herself. As opposed to the blind romanticism in her first film, Tu Yaa Main’s rooted love story, with its social media dynamics, pierces all class barriers. Given the tragic backstory, it is a tad surprising to see how easily Avani takes to water. Nevertheless, Shanaya’s sincere showing makes you respect an Avani.
Not just a rapper, Adarsh Gourav’s Maruti Kadam resonates with millions struggling to rise above their roots. The advent of social media, particularly short-form video-sharing apps, has emerged as the new wave; many see it as a shortcut to success, but reality shows money flows only with sizable followings, consistent uploads, and engagement. His mother mocks him for sleeping late and lacking a decent job; Maruti shoots back, “Aai, this (making reels) is my job.” Gourav’s prowess, though, isn’t limited to reels, he lives the character in skin and soul, charming with a slum dog tone, infectious smile, and straightforward attitude.
Despite their different worlds, the Gourav-Kapoor chemistry is also appealing. It’s no blip, Gourav being one inch shorter than Kapoor works perfectly in their life-and-death situation in the film. What’s strange, though, is how throughout their fight for survival, their wounds seem mostly self-inflicted rather than from any mauling. The dull final half-hour also sees a drop in intensity from both Gourav and Kapoor.
By limiting much of the poolside action to the second half, Nambiar creates space for the other characters to make an impression as well. Srikanth Yadav stands out as the local Konkani cop, especially in his witty exchanges with Maruti. Ansh Vikas Chopra, as Maruti’s best friend Fabric, is a delight – particularly if you have a soft spot for boisterous street rappers. What’s commendable is how films like Gully Boy and Tu Ya Main remain rare gems in Bollywood that embrace a populace constituting nearly half of Mumbai’s population. In the multiplex era, Bollywood often overlooks this audience, and they’ve long paid a heavy price for it.
Music and technical aspects
With rap at its core, Nambiar banks on a bevy of rap artists, with Gourav himself stepping behind the mic for a few riveting numbers. The standout is Jee Liya, crooned and composed by Gourav, and co-sung by Lothika in her sensuous tone.
Lakhan Rathore’s cinematography impresses particularly in capturing Maruti’s world in Nalasopara. Pooja Palan’s production design falters with the pool’s blue mosaic porcelain tiles, which perhaps serve as camouflage for the croc but make the visuals less attractive for the audience. When inside the pool. the crocodile fails to look convincingly real.
Final Word
Tu Yaa Main doesn’t fail to trigger nostalgia for Khoon Bhari Maang and Ganga Jamuna Saraswati, but does it do justice to the original Thai film? Those familiar with The Pool are likely to miss its pure thrill aspect, whereas the Hindi adaptation dives more into personal spaces, drama, and music to cater to desi tastes. If you haven’t watched the original, consider the Hindi version first. We’ve had our say – now we await yours: The Pool yaa Tu Yaa Main? Do let us know in the comments below.
Video review to follow.
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