Tonal inconsistencies drown this male-female friendship tale

Several aspects of the Suseenthiran directorial 2K Love Story don’t do justice to the title. One thing that would remain unjustified, even if the film were titled 90s Love Story or 80s Love Story, is a character (born in the 2000s) in the second half who keeps saying, “Thaali katra varaikkum dhaan namma vaazhka namma kaila” (A girl’s autonomy over her life ends once she gets married). The film is full of such unrealistic lines and characters that would not fit the sensibilities of any milieu.

The bigger problem, however, is the desperation to make the film appear progressive. The lack of heart and conviction in conveying what the makers claim to believe in, ultimately fails the film.

2K Love Story begins with an assistant director trying to understand the perspectives of men and women born in the 2000s about romantic relationships. He comes into contact with a wedding planning business run by two 2K-born friends, Monika/Moni (Meenakshi Govindarajan) and Karthik (Jagaveer), to gain insight into the weddings and relationships of 2K kids.

The character becomes a convenient tool for their friend Peter (Bala Saravanan) to begin his exposition on how deep their friendship is. As expected, another girl enters Moni and Karthik’s friendship. What she does to it and whether or not a man and a woman can just be friends is what 2K Love Story is about.

Right from the second or third scene, both Moni and Karthik are thrown into situations that could make them fall in love, but they don’t. The film intends to show that male and female friendships exist and need not become romantic.

However, instead of giving the lead characters a soul and letting them explore their bond to discover whether what they have for each other is love or friendship, the film mechanically has both sign a “friends forever” pact. This is restrictive, just like the assumption that every male-female relationship must have a romantic element.

The tonality is another fatal flaw, as the film seems unsure of whether to treat itself as a love triangle or a comedy family drama with their friendship as the foundation. When a significant portion of the runtime revolves around the three, the narrative conveniently shifts, like a video game where you cross one level to another and your injuries heal automatically.

There are no emotional stakes that would make us care about Karthik, his well-being, or how he deals with his trauma. If he has a beard, it means he’s grieving; otherwise, he’s past it. When the protagonist’s vulnerabilities are handled in such a simplistic way, we couldn’t care less.