M. Rajesh’s initial films all followed a similar pattern: a hapless guy pursuing a beautiful woman and ultimately winning her over. He attempted to break away from this established style with his previous effort, Azhagu Raja, but that movie fell short and wasn't very funny. Now, he has returned to the formula that previously worked for him in Vasuvum Saravananum Onna Padichavanga (VSOP). What Rajesh has done is reminiscent of what Sarkunam did recently with Chandi Veeran—incorporating elements from his earlier successes into a new film that feels familiar. The key difference here is that he manages to achieve some level of success. VSOP contains all the expected ingredients of a Rajesh film: a hero who’s a bit of a stalker, a heroine whose primary role seems to be looking attractive, suggestive humor, a strong male friendship, and most importantly, Santhanam. The comedian essentially functions as the second lead in this director's movies, and that is true for VSOP too. You could even argue he’s the main character—not only because his name appears first in the title, but also because the story centers around his character. Arya willingly takes a supporting role, allowing Santhanam to dominate much of the screen time. He delivers one-liner after one-liner and mostly succeeds; some jokes don't quite land or are repeated from previous roles, but many are genuinely funny. The film is slow to start, and the humor in the early scenes feels somewhat artificial. Things improve once Aishwarya appears, and the storyline involving the friends attempting to use her friend Kausalya (played well by Vidyullekha) as a lure, only for their plan to backfire, proves quite amusing. The scene where Saravanan, Vasu, and Aishwarya show up at Kauslaya's house late at night to insult her family is particularly memorable. The film’s tendency to avoid taking itself too seriously—even when Vasu and Saravanan briefly separate—is a strength. And the inclusion of a surprise appearance in the final scene is a welcome addition. However, the frequent use of predictable plot devices (like including Shakeela as someone advocating for men's rights) and unnecessary songs (Imman’s score seems uninspired) create a sense of having seen it all before. The numerous references Rajesh uses—in terms of music and dialogue—to elicit laughter actually suggest laziness, a lack of originality, and even a feeling of desperation. Ultimately, though, he prevents the film from becoming dull, making it a pleasant enough distraction.

Source on TMDB