The Genius of Andhadhun: The Climax Explained

Andhadhun poster

Halfway through watching Andhadhun on Netflix, I realized the characters have all got somewhat ironic arcs. One pretending to be blind actually becomes blind, someone who stole human organs asked to donate their organs, lady Macbeth reference, and many more that I missed. These ironic arcs make you a little skeptical about the plot of the film. It begins to feel like the story is a little too good to be true. With a number of lucky coincidences, heavenly influences and sudden changes of heart, Andhadhun feels more and more Bollywood. But then the movie does not drag for even a second; which, keeps you hooked. Considering that the same director, Sriram Raghavan, had earlier given us another gem called Badlapur, where all characters keep looking for closures and lead miserable lives, I decided the makers want me to be skeptical. After all, real lives are more like Badlapur and not like Andhadhun. And as the movie ends, Raghavan's intentions become clear.

The Sriram Raghavan masterpiece has kicked off a discussion on the climax of the film simply because he didn't give visible closures to the two main characters, Akash (Ayushmaan Khurrana) and Simi (Tabu), especially when all other smaller characters do get their closure right there in front of our eyes. The film plays with our expectations. Internet has come up with various theories to give Akash and Simi their closure. But is it really enough to know all the theories about the climax? Won't it be injustice to the film and the makers to not look into why they made the end so vague and ambiguous?
What Andhadhun does more than anything is it brings attention to how we think ourselves. Years of watching films have made us the ideal viewers. What is an ideal viewer, you ask? The one who wants to believe. Andhadhun, I feel, acknowledges the fact that films are a source of entertainment and whatever purpose a film is made for, in the end it will find viewers only if it manages to appeal to the human desire of wanting to believe. Andhadhun serves as a critique of this escapism through film. It goes on to even make fun of it. Notice how a veteran Bollywood actor in the film, whose "escape" was his own old films, dies.
For the history of closure in movies, just look at the perpetual trend in our movies, where we are always served complete stories peaking to climaxes, often in montage of shots of "the villains" either dead or in prison and happy "good people" on their way to the banks. These closures make us feel good about ourselves and the world. Andhadhun, on the other hand, makes us question those closures.
The closures in Andhadhun call attention to themselves. They scream in your face of their presence. When at the end we are handed an ambiguous closure, not like the previous in-the-face ones, we think! Yes! Andhadhun actually makes us better viewers. It makes us think!
So that's what I did. I thought! Thinking about all kinds of closures that Akash and Simi make a great discussion. But the new observation that the film itself is parodying closures makes visible certain new aspects. Right in the beginning of the film we see blind Akash narrating to no one in particular the perks of being blind. A few moments later we discover he is not really blind but has used the façade to get a house, a job, and a girl. One thing that every theory would agree on is you can't trust Akash. Only person you can trust is Sophie (Radhika Apte) and what all she sees. So its possible that the entire movie is just a figment of Akash's imagination. Another elaborate lie. In fact, Akash never really stopped his narration which he began at start of the film.
So this is what I propose to you to believe. Akash, just like in Pune, is pretending to be a blind pianist, now in London. He comes across his ex-girlfriend Sophie, whom he had cheated on with a depressed Simi whose husband was murdered. Remember that scene? So to avoid being blasted by Sophie and his gimmick being blown, he weaves a story of adultery, illegal organ procurement and of course his own kind heart. Kind of like in The Usual Suspects.
One might think that I'm over thinking but that's really the fun of it. And that is the point. "The lesson" of the film, if you wish to call that. To think for yourself, howsoever you can. In that sense, Andhadhun uses clichés of storytelling to critique storytelling. It makes us think for ourselves which, in the present world, is really the single most important thing to learn.