POPCORN REVIEWSS

Written by Rahul Ravindran, The Girlfriend focuses on the relationship between Bhooma and Vikram against the backdrop of a college setup. And the first thing that caught my eye was the mounting of the film, something that most Telugu films are guilty of in terms of how the male characters are written, giving them a free pass with respect to their antics that may be problematic but are used as tools of entertainment. These include the heroes being Godly figures who are pitted against the baddies yes, but almost oogle and eve-tease or even ridiculously get physical with their ‘ladies’ – all in the name of comedy. But this is where The Girlfriend is different – it doesn’t wish to glorify the actions of Vikram, instead choosing to highlight his antics as toxic, particularly when it comes to his relationship with Bhooma. So in separate instances when you see Vikram forcibly making a move on Bhooma, or always looking to physically be in contact with her, even walking with his hand around her – you squirm in your seat, simply because the instances are designed to make you uncomfortable.

Unlike the Tamil film Lover (2024), Bhooma and Vikram are never equals in the relationship that they share. The latter is frequently shown to manipulate his love for her while occasionally showcasing his aggressive streak – in a scene also exclaiming on how Bhooma reminds him of his mother, a line that reeks of a red-flag in the same breath. This may not directly seem to be problematic to most males drowned in the gravy of patriarchy, but the writer here provides ample proof in the antics of Vikram. In a scene, you see him taking her to his home in order for Bhooma to meet his mother who is a housewife, even while casually exclaiming on how his father remained hot-headed and abusive towards his mother – a trait that he thinks is restricted to the previous generation.

In his words, you see him promising on how he would never raise his hand on Bhooma, even while expecting her to follow the same tropes as his mother – a metaphor that is depicted by a mirror when Bhooma meets Vikram’s mother for the first time. He already has reservations about her sitting for college placements too, or even interacting with a male best friend, even while he chooses to be intimate with the college diva Durga (Anu Emmanuel).

Bhooma on the other hand, is a layered character too, her timidity that is represented in how she doesn’t choose to retaliate, while silently going through the motion. The idea of feminism is not developed in here just yet, something that is highlighted in a scene wherein her professor expresses surprise on how she hasn’t yet read books by Virginia Woolf. You can see that she is bothered by the antics of Vikram, even while being asked to stay away from her male friend, or even the thought of Vikram describing her cleavage to be visible to the crowd who was hooting for her after her performance in a play. Or even while knowing that Vikram has been intimate with her friend Durga, with whom she has shared a warm relationship with. The acceptance to toxicity is just not there, neither is there a will to fight back – a trauma that traces itself from her childhood when she was shown to be suppressed by her own father. It is clearly a man’s world and it remains all about surviving through it for Bhooma.

One minor criticism that I had was with how the characters remains binary with their thoughts for most parts of the runtime, as opposed to the idea of adding a few more layers to their personalities. For instance, the idea of layering can be judged by the character of Arun (Abhishek Chauhan) who may have been a green flag on the surface for Madhu (Monika Panwar), but was always guilty of victimizing himself, thereby being a walking red-flag in the Hindi show Khauf (2025). The personalities here are black and white but not grey, something that could have been employed a little more with the characters here.

But nevertheless, the metaphors make up for this shortcoming – in a scene, you see the walls closing in for Bhooma, an indicator on how she thinks of her existing relationship. In another, she finally confesses to Vikram on how she wants to breakup and that this relationship isn’t meant for the future. The idea of slut-shaming the girl defines its final act, something that in a way contributes to the arc of Bhooma too. And while the finale may have been a tad underwhelming and a plot-point that could have been introduced a little earlier in the film, the subtext and the messaging stays relevant in today’s times. It isn’t like the arc that Adaa (Sonam Bajwa) had in Ek Deewane Ki Deewaniyat (2025) – something that was so problematic. Instead, the arc here was more plausible and the need of the hour for folks who are trapped in a toxic relationship, irrespective of the opposite gender. And in that sense, the screenplay manages to impress here.