2025, Malayalam, Jio Hotstar, 7.5/10 IMDB, Directed by Jotish Shankar

Pulished in Mr. Baradwaj Rangan’s movie blog- https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2025/03/25/readers-write-in-785-ponmaan-the-golden-deer/

A character driven movie ‘casually’ instilling an urge to find the purpose of life among the idling population and giving a grand hope for the slogging lot. On the go, young girls are sent on soul searches to decode what true beauty is, aimed to knock down the ‘dream killing’ dowry fanaticism, in the land of God’s own country.

The premise is novel, like majority of Malayalam industry’s. The 2023, Biju Menon and Vineeth Sreenivasan starer ‘Thankam’, gave a Thirssur perspective of the city’s gold brokers trying to find market in Mumbai. In ‘Ponman’, it is Kollam perspective of a gold agent, an unheard kind. An extension of the traditional goldsmith practices of those days, who made jewellery and delivered it to households, this is one such story of a middle man, an agent in present day scenario.

The gold smiths were apparently referred as or mobile jewellery or ‘Madiyil Jewellery’ (madiyil translates ‘in the lap’ meant to refer ‘in the embrace’) and hence the fancy blend word title – Ponman. On the face of it, ‘Pon’ means gold and hence man who delivers it becomes ponman, more like, attaching their job to their names with a tag, something like a ‘postman’ or a ‘milkman’. The metaphorical second layer behind this merger word, transpires beautifully towards the end of the movie. ‘Ponman’ in south languages, in spite of being a letter short in the English version of the title, sounds more like ‘ponmaan’ translating ‘golden deer’ indicating the key element in the Indian epic, Ramayana. And Golden deer, is a metaphorical reference to temptation and illusory desires called ‘Maya’. This is exactly the intention of the makers; to equate the yellow metal to maya and they subtly begin the process, starting from the title naming.

The movie is at its best with abundant non preachy eye openers and seamless screenplay. The makers strike the right chords as the movie conveys their true intentions in right proportions at the right time. It easily is the best socially responsible movie in recent times, but for the excessive alcohol dependent characters especially the lead character P.P. Ajeesh, played by Basil Joseph. But, again, the more we delve into the psyche of the character and start reading in between his unpretentious dialogues, it adds multiple layers to the character.

Character development both external and internal is an art and without question, is the key to any screenplay which is intended to captivate the audience. Ponman scores big in detailing the traits of its prime characters and eventually swapping the traits among them as the film progresses. Viewers are introduced to the lead character Ajeesh through, the brother of the bride, Bruno’s eyes. Bruno himself is a hit man associated with a party and is introduced as a muscling rogue. Ajeesh comes out to be this no-nonsense casual broker, who may seem petite but is a heavy yet steady drinker, passionate about his job and is well connected.

Ajeesh seems a compassion less mechanical person with a monotonous routine, and Bruno with no brain and no job. Similarly, Bruno’s brother-in-law Mariyano, the groom, played by Saijin Gopu is another classic character. He is the third kind, a bulk looking man with no principles but is very passionate about his work. What the director makes out these three characters within the boundary of the story is what makes Ponman stand tall.

Dig at dowry mongering is the crux of the story but the director never touches upon the subject, other than a couple of personal conflict remarks between characters. Ajeesh is even seen warning the mother of the bride on a casual note – ‘Gold is a curse and trouble follows it wherever it goes’. A subtle remark, but it is the very statement, the crew is trying to establish.

Lijomol Jose as Steffie, the bride, shines in her character that transforms from being helpless to becoming selfish, and then to search within to bring to surface her individuality. She represents millions of women across the country who are catteled into the institution called marriage. Girls who stumble upon when life throws rationale questions on beliefs, like those from the movie ‘Laapataa Ladies’ depicted from the villages of Uttarakhand.

Bruno’s transformation is a beautiful one too, as he gets a lease of new hope in life, an inspiration from Ajeesh, to helps him streamline and turn responsible. Ajeesh’s constant booing on Mariyano to belittle him for vying on the bride family’s sweat money, is a pricking gesture pointing to all dowry solicitors in the audience.

When the movie ends, all that drinking and merry making by Ajeesh comes as he was masking his fear and mustering his courage to dive each time into the risky venture, which he had made his livelihood. His ‘underwear morning merry’ at the beach is yet another indication of his emotional disturbance that he tries to mask it off in the name of fantasy, merely to be woken up early and to get over his hangover. Yet another beautiful layer and it made more sense as the end credits rolled.

Ajeesh’s simple hardworking family is an insight into his poor background as the character hints the lack of any ancestry wealth for a ‘head start’ in life. It is another facet that the makers establish to confront the men in the audience, who make grand plans for their lives, hoping dowry would be their stepping stone. A man who is determined to succeed in life fighting all odds, A man who would go to extremes to safeguard other’s trust in him, A man who is untouched by emotional dilemmas, A man who is sincere to his job, A man who is focused and unintentionally sets the path right in many people’s lives around him, A man who appetites the goodness in a bride who chucks her newly-wed groom, in realization to prioritize herself and to leave the ‘pon’ gold behind – Basil Joseph playing Ajeesh, just nails them all, capturing more hearts this time too.

The pride of the ‘all praise’ Kollam title song, slowly wanes away to expose the engagement people get themselves into, in the name of dowry gold. They are merely caught in ‘maya’, as the dowry gold is mimicking the ancient mythological ‘PonmaAn’. When Ajeesh and Steffie row away to the city banks, Steffie is seen removing her jewellery, slowly shifting consciousness to a state of awareness. She overcomes the illusion, prompting girls in the audience to follow suit. And Ajeesh comments true beauty doesn’t lie in the ‘jewellery of gold’, implying, true beauty is in the ‘flawless heart of gold’.

Philosophically, the veil called ‘Maya’, a mere manifestation of Brahman’s power, which was obscuring the true nature of reality is lifted and both the characters shine nothing less that ‘Pon’.

The post Ponman appeared first on Lamocom.

My article on Manikandan’s Kadaisi Vivasayi, has been published in vol. XXIV October-December 2024 edition of E-Cine India https://fipresci-india.org/e-cine-india/ , the E-Journal of the India Chapter of FIPRESCI https://fipresci.org/– Fédération Internationale de la Presse Cinématographique- International Federation of Film Critics

Journal’s Link – https://fipresci-india.org/e-cine-india/

My article’s Link –https://fipresci-india.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/28.-Critique-Latha-Rajasekar-Kadaisi-Vivasayi.pdf

The title translates, ‘The Last Farmer’, and the movie is about ‘The Only Farmer’ of the village who could cultivate paddy for the village’s traditional pooja. Director Manikandan’s films are highly moralistic and predominantly rooted to the terrain he talks about. But this flick is a deep focus on ‘his’ native habitat and its religiosity, intended to relate the viewers to those simple souls.

The director embraces his ‘religious identity’ right from the opening credits, hinting the viewers about the orientation of the plot. The title begins with a praise for the ‘Southern country’s God’, Lord Siva, followed by a dedication to, Lord Muruga, The Founder of the native language ‘Tamil’, and his followers called ‘Siddhars’. Siddhars were divine humans, who have attained high degree of spiritual perfection and they have been acknowledged as scientists, doctors, alchemists, and mystics in the past. Manikandan intends to credit our contemporary belief systems to our ancestor’s, who believed in ‘self-surrender’ to obtain ‘unity with the absolute’. He guides the viewers to experience the associated ‘spiritual apprehensions’ of truths beyond intellect, through his fluid narrative style.

The next credit is even more interesting as the director introduces the audience to his ‘family deities’ called the ‘Kula Deivam’. The format is similar to a typical native wedding invitation of the south. A two-column family tree like deities list of both his parents. On his paternal side, ‘Valayapatti Chinnaakaaman’ is called upon to protect to begin with. ‘Valayapatti’ is the village of his dad’s origin and Chinnaakaaman, the deity’s name. Then comes his late grand-parents, parent, along with their village Vilaampatti, and the director even mentions the block to which the village belongs to- Usilampatti. An exact replica is on the adjacent column for his maternal grand-parents. The 85-year-old protagonist, who sadly had passes away before the film was released, also gets a placard in a similar pattern – ‘Perungamanallur village’s Late Nallandi, the son of Chinna Thevar.’ 

This little exercise, is the true essence of the movie. A humble journey to celebrate the social structure, to respect the societal spiritual practices and to focus on the need to sustain in food productivity chains, as farmers are the primary source of our lives.

Cow dung plastered floors are not just a house for the protagonist, farmer Maayandi, it is house for two of his cows and his hen and her chicks. Maayandi feeds the hen and her chicks, walks his cows to his farmland and checks the water level in his well, before turning on the motor. He waters his land and then walks the cows back home. This detailed early morning introductory routine of the farmer turns to become significant, as we are made to relate to it, while it beautifully intersects with the story, in the later half.

The director juxtaposes Mayandi’s idle gaze over the flying peacock from the hillock nearby, with a young shepherd’s overlapping conversation over a mobile call in the background, who asks his friend to bring his herd to the ‘location’ he had texted on WhatsApp. This shot composition, announces the audience on globalisation re-shaping our Indian villages, leaving the older generation behind and with them their ‘wisdom’.

A song sung by a ‘real life fanatical devotee of Lord Muruga’ of the 1960’s, Mr. T.M.Soundararajan, in his magnetic voice- ‘Karpanai Endrallum Karchilai Endralum’, is heard on a distant radio, as the film’s credits rolls. The director aims to emphasise through the song, the religious doctrine that is based on the awareness that comes from the spirit and not through science. The song translates – ‘Even if you are an imagination, even if you are a mere statue of stone, oh dear Lord Muruga, I would not forget you.’ The late veteran lyricist Mr. Vaali, before his venture into the films as song writer, was offended by constant abuses on Lord Muruga, by the then atheist political parties. In an emotional spurt, he supposedly wrote these lyrics on a post card and posted it to Mr. T.M. Soundararajan. The singer was immensely impressed with the words, that he composed the tune himself, sang and released it as a devotional album.

The director parallels minimalism by overlapping Maayandi’s frugal market spending on vegetables, to a contrasting conversation in a fertiliser shop, on a man spending lakhs towards donation and fee for his son’s college admission. Genetically modified foods are of course tested for its safety but the apprehension on finding a hybrid variety, growing seedless tomatoes, seems unacceptable to the old farmer, Maayandi. He even goes on to curse the scientist for intervening in the natural process of tomatoes that usually grow from excreta. Maayandi’s ‘natural seed dispersal’ mention, is the director insisting upon the protagonist’s traits, an unexploited farmer in a world of rapid diffusion of technology.

A lightning struck tree in the village, stirs the guilt conscience of the villagers for not performing the annual ritual of the ‘Kula Deivam’ in the last fifteen years. Maayandi is seen calculating the age of the tree to be over 100 years by visualising it being around for generations, a sense of unifying our ancestry to nature.

Each family deity has a set pattern for worship and the director effortlessly highlights his thoughts on ‘caste’ being a relatively new discriminator in the otherwise inclusive ritual template. A group of middle-aged men are seen discriminating the ‘low caste born’, that they shouldn’t be a part of the festivity. But the older women are seen shutting them out, by insisting upon their traditional practices of requesting a mud horse made by a potter for the pooja and inviting ‘Parai’ music players of the low born men, as it is their music that would make the village’s pleas heard by the Gods.

It is indeed hearty to witness the younger generation fighting with the older ones, that the ritual will be participated by everyone, irrespective of their caste. A typical urban scenario to echo in the village setup, is a relief. Elements relating to ‘God’, were the root of discrimination in the recent past. When the same elements relating to God are used to reverse the curse, and unifying them as ‘humans’, in current scenario, is truly heart-warming. By making the young generation raising their voices in support of the older generation, Manikandan promisingly indicates, ‘discrimination’ is dying a slow but a sure death.

On the parallel the director introduces a character named Ramaiah who believes his dead lover is alive, and she is beside him ‘always’. His lover was his cousin, who had killed herself by poisoning, because her father refused her to marry Ramaiah. He carries heavy bags of belongings, wearing too many shirts one top of another, too many watches and often seen climbing up and down hillocks, in bare foot. His aggressive behaviour when someone doubts his belief that ‘his lover is alive’, seem weird to the villagers and to the viewers. We question his mental stability but the director gradually analogizes Ramaiah as a contemporary Siddhar, the insane looking sanest of all. I fascinatingly could smell the ashes that Ramaiah is seen smearing on people whom he acquaints, for I was reminded of my granddad ‘Arunachalam’, who kept the fragrant ash, ‘Thiruneer’ in a cloth potli bag called the ‘Surrukku Pai’.

A few old and a few young lots of the village, trip to the place of worship and an older man address pointing to a deity as – ‘Karuppan’. He refers to ‘Karuppusamy’, the God of protection, often seen at the entrance of a village. The director chooses to lure the audience to the crux, by making an old man fondly tag line Karuppan as ‘Seeyan’, meaning grand-dad. The viewers are made to infer that the spirits of our ancestors are standing, every ready to protect us from all evil in the form of Karuppu(black) Samy (God) and instantly we are made to connect Ramaiah’s belief that his lover isn’t dead – she is with him, beside him and maybe she is protecting him. He is furious when people mock at his belief, say, when he buys two cups of tea, one for him and one for ‘her’. But is seen mesmerised when someone acknowledges the fact, like Maayandi who brings three plates of food, two for him and Ramaiah and the third one for ‘her’.

Our spiritual system is being maintained through a coherent understanding of our predecessor’s life experiences. It results in shaping our spiritual values, beliefs, practices and the reasons behind. Ramaiah believes his lover is ‘alive’ and that is his spiritual orientation. His, is similar to most of the believers till date, as we believe our deities ‘come alive’ with the right worship pattern called ‘Padaiyal’. There are set patterns, particular ways to present God, our food, freshly grown fruits and water, along with loud instrumental music or chanting to grab His attention.

The old man continues to narrate the youngsters that the main deity Ayyan, Ayyanar, Aaiyappan are all one and the same, indicating ‘our fathers’. He adds, ‘one who breaks free of his thoughts, perceptions, feelings and wills’, become God. The Kula (family) Deivam (God) is seen as a rock lamp and the elderly says, the deity is a mere ‘oil lamp’ made of stone, and it is garlanded and worshipped. Another old man claims that idol worship were later additions to the primary fire worship format, summarizing mankind’s religious practices where, ‘Fire’ is either worshipped at or is a tool of worship, across religions.

Director Manikandan, spells it out for the audience that these statues are real people who had lived the earth, to become our Gods. One cannot refrain from recollecting those opening credits of Manikandan’s vertical family tree – deities on top, followed by his great grandparents, his grandparents and his dad and then today it is ‘him’, and tomorrow it will be his ‘kids’– A simplification of ‘Aham Brahmasmi’, translating, ‘I am God’.

The reasons behind discontinuing the annual ritual, apparently was the misbehaviour of a few villagers in ill-treating the lower caste men at the festival. Manikandan’s emphasise on the rituals being a ‘mandate of collective worship by all’, highlights that festivals are hostility neutralisers as well. It dawned on me why my eighty-two-year-old dad goes through deliberate hardships in organising our annual ritual, by pooling in all relatives, many of whom are a disinterested bunch.

Manikandan’s second analogy is the corporate sector investment to that of elephant rearing. The village’s wealthiest farmer, sells his fifteen acers of farming land, to buy an elephant for his adult son ‘Thadikozhanthai’, the name translates ‘plump baby’, a reference to the wealthy. The analogy is in line with a Tamil saying that goes, ‘Yaannaiyai katti theeni poda mudiyaadhu’, translating, it is impossible to feed an elephant enough. Manikandan layers the analogy with an irony of few other farmers selling their farmlands to a ‘financing company’ whose motive is to do ’organic farming’. The sorrow of felling a healthy tree by these buyers, is magnified as Manikandan ends the sequence by merging an aerial shot of the lighting struck tree, whose bark and wood fibres had exploded.

A native farmer, is exploited by globalised techniques and hybrid seeds, that tempt big profits. Later forced to surrender his land to corporates, who proclaim to revert back to ‘traditional farming practices’ under a fancy banner of ‘organic farming’. As a viewer, I was left puzzled asking myself, ‘Life definitely is not coming a full circle for these farmers, does it?’.

When the broker offers a handsome return for his farmlands, Maayandi refuses it. His genuine reason being, if he sells his land, he may not have an urge to wake up early every day. It sounds superficially ignorant on the face of it but it is the most simplified truth, as it defines the synchronized life of the human race, one with ‘nature’. Just like the high-pitched chirping birds that welcome every dawn of our lives, Maayandi’s day begins at dawn, and his life is defined by his simplistic routine.

The broker whines that Maayandi has been deaf for four decades and hence doesn’t have much wisdom to what is happening around. But his imparity, has turned a boon, as he is clinging on to the piece of ancestry land amidst the evolving land mafia madness. Maayandi replies to the broker – the money in return for his land might only be used by him as his pillow and nothing much, a deliberate featuring of minimalism. We are nodding in agreement, given the routine of Maayandi’s, as to what would a stash of cash mean to a ‘self-sustained’ man like him, who is desireless and doesn’t have any wants or needs.

Director Manikandan’s illustrative demonstration of the ritualistic process of ‘sowing paddy’ is an inspiring compilation through his protagonist, Maayandi. A little girl is asked to take handful of grains and it is wrapped in a jute cloth and soaked. She is duly paid a little treat of palm sugar candy for her job. Little girls are village’s little goddesses and their growth symbolises, that the crops would grow just like them. But sadly, I couldn’t help thinking, a natural biological process such as puberty would easily snatch such privileges from them.

The ‘ploughing tools’ are considered divine in this part of the country and Manikandan meticulously documents the process encompassing its divinity, a keep-sake compilation for the non-farming generations to come, indeed. And it begins with a ‘Karpooram’ Aarthi (camphor light) for the peacock feather decorated Tamil God ‘Murugan’. From washing the Ayyanaar Arivaal (the protector God’s lengthy sickle), to freshly grinding fragrant sandalwood paste to decorate the iron ‘Marakkal’, a cylindrical measuring pot with closed bottom that is used to store grains and is used in auspicious events such as wedding, the movie swells with aesthetics.

Maayandi cleans the plough carefully as if he would shower an infant, cleansing it with care and wields it on the land with his two cows on either side. The lyrical song in the background, supports his sentiments with words that translate the respect the farmers have for their land. The ploughed and watered land, the soaked seeds rhythmically thrown to grow into sprouts, converting the small patch into an emerald carpet, is a visual treat to the ‘soul’. The visuals intercut with Ramaiah swaying on the hillock his vibrant coloured clothes, that fly like kites in the wind, are director’s edit, that prompts in corelation with the mood of the viewers.

The potter explaining his disability to make the mud horse for the ritual is a satirical irony. The potter is no longer allowed to gather the red soil from the river bed, as Government has banned such activities. While mafias flourish in corruption of sand mining, the poor villager’s livelihood and the traditions associated with his creative skill, is seen to suffocate. The Director’s strength is, he is content in just subliminally touching upon such issues, to initiate a conversation within the viewer’s minds.

When Maayandi sees a couple of peahens and a peacock dead in his farm land, the viewers are made to infer that Maayandi had visualised them as ‘Lord Muruga’ and his two consorts ‘Valli and Deivaanai’, as the peacocks are personified as the Lord himself. One is assured of this thought process of Maayandi, as he is seen repeating, the phrase, ‘one peacock and two peahens’ in more than one instance. In a natural instinct, he buries them in the scorching heat, with the crows and cuckoos as his witness.

Ramaiah, in his first meet with Maayandi, would have fondly recited his experiences of his pilgrim to a 2000-year-old shrine of Lord Murugan in Palani. His ‘first-person narration’ of a puranic story about his very own Lord Murugan going around the world to get the golden mango from his dad, is sure to puzzle the viewers, but not Maayandi. During the second visit, Maayandi shares his grief to Ramaiah about the dead peafowls. Ramaiah is quite disturbed as it is the ‘Vahana’ – vehicle of his favourite God Murugan and he too seem to have personified the peafowls with God. After a brief moment of silence, he says, he believes that the Lord has some plans of his own. Naively, in a dramatic irony both of them are disturbed about the death of the birds, for it belongs to their Lord, and not because, the peacocks are our nation’s pride.

The first conflict in the movie arrives after forty odd minutes of ‘lifestyle exploration’ of the eighty-two-year-old man and his village. A passerby, seemingly a peasant hunter, in the grudge that Maayandi refused to give him the dead bird and instead buried them himself, lodges a complaint in the police station that Maayandi killed those peafowls. The viewers along with Maayandi are made to step-out of the tranquil world of his and step into the deceitful real world. But the beauty is that Maayandi continues to remain in the genuine cocoon of his, as the film progresses with sequences of the legal proceedings.

Funnily, on realising that the khaki uniformed man is not an electric post repair man but police, due to his hearing disability Maayandi gives a random reply, that he inherited the land from his grandfather, thinking the constable asked him about his land. All the old man could relate with a policeman, was a probable land dispute. When he gets ready wearing two different slippers as a pair, to accompany the constable to the police station, without any hesitation, the eerie background score, wrenches the viewers of the uncertainties ahead. 

Past humiliation by the villagers, behind police personnel registering a case against Maayandi, twists the tale. The court proceedings begin with a young magistrate. She swiftly holds the inspector responsible for his ulterior motives and sympathizes with the elderly man who says he did not kill the peafowls. Director Manikandan never ceases to add positivity even in the real-world scenario and Magistrate Mangaiyarkarasi (her name translates ‘queen of women’) is one big hope for many, including the viewers.

The court proceedings fondly remind the director’s 2016 film, yet another gem, ‘Andavan Kattalai’. Maayandi, is concerned not about him being remanded but about his saplings dying without someone to water them. The director tries to throw light on innate humanness in all characters of his. For instance, the Magistrate asking the constable to water the plants in return for his mistake of facts in haste, which lead to the old man’s remand. The youngsters readily agreeing to take care of Maayandi’s cattle. The co-inmate in the prison taking tutorials from Maayandi on farming. Unearthing kindness in human minds are sourced elegantly by the director through such sequences. And while doing so, he is also signalling the masses, that farming is an innate quality of humans.

Manikandan also touches upon another vital quality of humans, ‘adaptability’. The constable adapts to the routine of Maayandi to the extent that he enjoys the solitude to become one with the village community’s annual ritual. The prison inmate learns to grow plants inside the prison in whatever broken cups and jars he could lay his hand, trying to sort his future after his prison life. When Maayandi says, ‘God has given us thousands of seeds and anything would grow if it is sown and watered’, I was left to visualise, the kinds of shrubs and weeds that menacingly grow on unkept roadsides, every fissure of rocks and walls, and even in between the creases of my freshly laid cobble stoned road.

A stranger throws a satirical remark on GST, but Raamaiah chooses to remain silent. He goes on to question Raamaiah if he knows who rules the state, and he instantly replies, ‘It has always been Lord Murugan’. Director’s grievance on the plight of the complex taxation format on the ignorant lot, hints a pacifying solution through Ramaiah’s portrayal. ‘God will save them’.

Raamaiah meets an old Siddhar, who applies ashes on his fore head and gives some in his hand. When asked for whom the ashes were, the Siddhar turns towards the tree where Raamaiah had kept his bags, and says ‘for her who is sitting under the tree’. Raamaiah, played by actor Vijay Sethupathi, emotes with mixed emotions. He is happy that his lover is visible to the Siddhar’s eyes and on the other hand, is sad that he either had forgot about her or didn’t believe in her existence completely. Had he believed in her existence whole heartedly without an ounce of doubt, he wouldn’t have left her starving, by offering ‘her’ food packet to the Siddhar. 

Director Manikandan organically overlaps the sequences of the youngsters regretting their actions of killing the peafowl the previous years and Maayandi’s grandson Karuppan going to Palani, to pray for an obstacle-free festivity. Karuppan meets Raamaiah climbing a hill in Palani, and witnesses’ ‘Mysticism’ himself – the ‘mystical theology’ of Raamaiah vanishing in thin air.

Maayandi asks Karuppan about Raamaiah, as Karuppan gives the potli bag of ash to him. The director chooses to layer his screenplay with intercuts of actual visuals of Karuppan’s narration to Maayandi. What we as audience witness is a meditative compilation, captured from a camera that is first placed on the top of the hillock, as if we take the place of ‘The Almighty’ and welcome Raamaiah, into our arms. He climbs, carrying the two seemingly heavy bags that he is seen carrying for the entire run of the movie.

The music then softens, and now the camera is placed down on the rock to visualise Rammaiah from behind, after he had climbed to the top of the hill. And now, he seems to be ‘The Almighty’ himself. He comes down briefly to give the polti bag of ash, as if he is handing over the baton to the younger generation and says (blesses) that everything would be sorted, once the deity’s ritual is performed.

He climbs back and the sound of a squawking peafowl, tears the wind and the sun makes its way out of the dark cloud. The puzzling frown on Raamaiah’s face, is wiped off and he smiles big. He smiles heartily like an infant. The instrumental melody, compliments his ‘altered state of consciousness’ and his expanded spiritual awareness. When Karuppan turns back to look at Raamaiah – ‘He’ is gone. The music stops and the camera freezes in its inclined angle capturing the two heavy bags and the rays of light falling right in the middle – ‘A state of spiritual perfection’. He did obtain ‘Unity’ with the ‘Absolute’ through ‘Self-surrender’.

Karuppan climbs to stand where Ramaiah stood, right in between the two bags and now it is the Director Manikandan narrating the story of our ancestors – we stepping into their shoes, acknowledging their experiences, and start worshipping them as our ‘guiding light’, our ‘Kula Deivam’. Karuppan only briefly looks down in a ‘scientific instinct’, but as soon as he climbs up the rock, he just looks straight into the sky, into the ray of light, in to the heavenly abode. When he narrates to Maayandi that Raamaiah disappeared, Maayandi corrects him promptly, no, he didn’t disappear, ‘He flew away’. The bags sit there on the top, as the sun sets, indicating the soul departed leaving behind his baggage.

Raamaiah, left his baggage behind, he let go of what he was clinging on to, he let go of desires, he let go of expectations. He relinquished all attachments to become one with the God, to become a divine human, a ‘Siddhar’. He is gone. But continues to live in the ‘ashes’ that he carried with him in the blue polti – for the old and young generation to smear ‘Him’ on their foreheads.

The long corridor leading to the prison cell where the old man is ‘caged’, looks longingly at the distant shining moon through his prison grills – in sorrow of being restrained. But when he is brought to the court the next morning, in an urge to see his crops, just like any mother would long to see her children, he sneaks to the farmland to see the shocking sight of his dying crops. A youngster had sprayed an expired chemical compound. The constable picks him back to the court. Maayandi is not frustrated, he just is dejected.

Finally, when the magistrate says he can go home, he is not seen happy. He is rather numb. After the release formalities, Maayandi is seen wiping hard, the thumb impression ink, from his earth filled muddy hand. An ‘impression’ he is new to, an impression that he would relate to disputes maybe, an impression that is alien on his muddy hand, an impression that reminds him of the unreasonable restriction over a month, an impression he didn’t get when he buried a dead street dog a year back, an impression that reminds of the monetary compensation he was offered to ignore watering the saplings that were sown for their deity.

The magistrate trying to speed up the release formalities goes in person to the prison complex. Manikandan’s goodness showcasing never ceases. It is not the ‘Magistrate’ who wanted to visit Maayandi go home. It is ‘Mangaiaarkarasi’ who wants to be a part of liberating the innocent farmer, ‘the last farmer’. She wanted to witness Maayandi go back to his farmland and wants to assist him replenish his land with a new set of emerald carpet.

But when he is seen lying down on the bench outside the prison office, along with Mangayarkarasi, viewers are left with pounding heartbeats, puzzled if Director Manikandan resorted to the most common melodramatic end for the character. A small movement is what our eyes are searching for, in that puny body of Maayandi’s.

The silence is broken by his fellow inmate who took farming lessons from Maayandi. As he screams asking Maayandi to wake, we viewers too are screaming within asking someone to shake the old man to come alive. But the distant peacock does that for the ones on screen and off screen. Maayandi wakes, all startled in a jolt and the silence continues, for us to comfort ourselves.

Mangayarkarasi on reaching Maayandi’s land, comforts him like a mother, saying, every villager, elephant included, would assist him collectively to re-sow seeds for the deity. For generations, families were built, on such simple fundamentals, right? ‘Humans with humanity’ coming together to pray the Gods.  

How can a movie so positive, end without the resumed annual festivity? With the decorated lamp deity, the ‘Padayal’ of all kind arrives. But the ‘Marakkal’ of freshly harvested paddy arrives with a hero’s welcome with everyone cheering for our hero Mayaandi. Manikandan insists on capturing the celebrations only briefly, to go back to Maayandi’s routine.

Maayandi, is greeted on his routine by a peacock who is seen fanning its feathery tail from the top of a hillock. We know who it is. It is HIM, the Vahana of Subramaniayan alias Karthikeyan alias Murugan alias Raamaiah, the Siddhar, who once lived on the top to the hill.

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2024, Tamil, Disney Hotstar, IMDB 8.2/10, Directed by Mari Selvaraj

My article on Mani Selvaraj’s ‘Vaazhai‘, has been published in vol. XXIII July to September 2024 edition of E-Cine India, the E-Journal of the India Chapter of FIPRESCI https://fipresci.org/– Fédération Internationale de la Presse Cinématographique- International Federation of Film Critics

Link to the Jul-Sep 2024 E-journal: https://fipresci-india.org/e-cineindia-july-september-2024/.

Link for my article on Vaazhai: https://fipresci-india.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/30.-Critique-Latha-Rajasekar-Vaazhai.pdf

Aided by a brilliant narrative flow, this biopic chapter, based on a tragic event in the director’s adolescent life, emanates the perpetuated pain of his adulthood, that the audience were left to contemplate in his earlier work. The essence of the movie largely remains unadulterated, as the villagers-turned-actors, nourishes the script with their naivety and astonishes with their committed performance.

The director who had delved head-on into daring themes, voicing explicit caste-politics in his previous films, chooses to vent his childhood agony with ‘Vaazhai’, to let the audience know, where his anger stemmed from. The premise is nothing new one may think- a simple livelihood story of a boy in a village of southern Tamilnadu. Surprisingly, everything about ‘Vaazhai’ is new, from the visuals to the cast, from the music to the narrative style.

‘Exploitation of the daily wagers’ being the conflict, the director chooses to let the audience see through the lens of his adolescent eyes, rather than exploring the causes and arriving at a definitive solution. The journey of the humble banana bunches from the soggy farm lands, to our street vendor’s cart, are narrated, staggeringly.

‘Vaazhai’, begins as a travel into the minds of young souls, on the lines of Abbas Kiarostami’s ‘The Experience’ and Majid Majidi’s ‘Children of Heaven’, but later transforms into a non-violent voice of the oppressed, leaving the audience behind, with numerous questions. These were the exact questions that the director wanted us to dwell upon, by knocking our conscience, with every art work of his, starting from ‘Pariyerum Perumal’ to ‘Karnan’ and ‘Maamannan’. The ‘form’ that the director adapts to narrate his perspectives by compiling his childhood memories, attempts to walk the audience beside him, to finally reveal, the toll, ‘exploitation’ has on innocent lives.

From his ‘crush’ on his school teacher Poongodi, to his ‘tiff’ with his buddy Sekar, over movie-based fandom, from the ‘sibling bond’ with his sister Vembu, to his ‘reluctance towards lugging labor’, Mari Selvaraj poeticized, what is, a slice of his life. Director Mari’s representative in the movie, Master Ponvel, plays the character Sivanaindhan, authentically. Portrayal of ‘crush’, especially that of an adolescent boy on his school teacher, is nothing new to Tamil cinema, but is often tricky. Mari’s love for cinema, ‘waters’ his ‘attraction’ towards his teacher, in reciprocation to the ‘kindness’ that she showers on him.

Sivanaindhan couldn’t experience warmth from his poverty-stricken mother, but the caring soul teacher Poongodi, makes him feel welcomed and hence he begins to cling on to her. Played by the gorgeously divine Nikhila Vimal, Poongodi is perhaps a savior in Sivanaindhan’s eyes, raising above the crush status, to a person who would save him against all odds. The handkerchief of the teacher is a ‘treasure’ to the child and the sequence where his sister helps him wash the kerchief for his safe keeping, compels the audience to endorse the child’s emotions.

The boy is drawn to the teacher, for the ‘happy state’ that she is in. One is left to infer that the child longs his sister and mom to be in a near similar state too, when he returned home, from school. Instead, ‘lugging banana bunches’, an intensive labor for a child his age, is what is thrown at him, to repay the family’s debt. Mari’s elaborate sequences to establish the naivety of Sivanaindhan’s crush is a beautiful ‘set up’ that gets ‘paid off’ doubly in the end.

Sivanaindhan’s combinations with his friend Sekar, are sheer rib ticklers, and the one where Sekar is caught for lying about his thorn pricked foot, to escape lugging over the weekend, leaves you laugh, not without a cautioning pain within. The morality of the film’s crux and the awareness around it, reaches a wider audience, through these commercially viable comic reliefs, which is a clear success to the creator’s intention.

Kani, a socialist who demands, wage hike for lugging and his romance angle with Sivanaindhan’s sister Vembu, are alluring sub plots. Played by Kalaiyarasan, and Divya Duraisamy, the couple nail their respective roles, through subtle expressions and brief eye contacts. ‘Marudhani (henna leaves) messenger’, Sivanaindhan, after delivering the leaves to Kani from his sister Vembu as a gesture of love, expresses his liking for Kani to her. Sivanaindhan asking his sister to marry Kani, is Mari registering, the boy’s insecurity and his yearning for a ‘better tomorrow’.

Only when frames ‘tell’ the tale and ‘guide’ the audience’s eyes, shot compositions become meaningful. Mari threads his frames to express the mind space of his characters in all his work, more effectively so in Vaazhai, as the director is left to explore his adolescent self, along with his pain, his hunger, his agony and his happiness. His ‘native-self’ gushes his writing in an uninterrupted flow, but gives adequate time for the viewers to engage in Sivanaindhan’s traits, his morals, emotions and actions.

Mari Selvaraj’s disclaimer announces that the movie, is a perspective born out of his clouded childhood memories. Vaazhai, is him reiterating to the viewers, on what he thought as a child, that might have led the tragic incident. He slowly builds his screenplay, towards a riveting climax.

I vividly remember the question my dear friend asked me after seeing Mari’s debut film, ‘Pariyerum Perumal’. We both were left speechless to have witnessed a daring work of the director, in bringing out the pain of the oppressed, after a long hiatus of such works, in the Tamil industry. Viewers related to the pain in the narration and concurred with the climax that ended on a positive note – If not a ‘debate’ at the least, a ‘dialogue’, has begun between the extremes. In addition to the moral dilemma the movie left us with, my friend asked me the question that her uncle had asked her – ‘The movie is a great work of art, but would you accept a lower caste boy, into your family as your son-in-law?’ I was baffled as I myself was contemplating such dilemmas within. I may not be a fanatic, but I still would definitely need a lot of persuasion and the right mettle to face the relatives. My educated daughter with worldly exposure, overtly expresses her likes and dislikes to me. But I may not be able to mimic her, while handling my parents, for the equation with them is not the same as mine with her. My answer to my friend was – ‘We are bound to ‘change’, if we were to find ourselves in a similar situation’.

Just like all works of Mari, ‘Vaazhai’ too made a few people, question his intentions. A doctor friend of mine claimed, children giving a hand to parents in helping them with their burden needn’t be labeled as ‘labor or exploitation’. He also argued that, sharing parent’s burden will only make the children aware of the parent’s toiling life, so they will grow up to become responsible adults. He went on to add that, many of his friends who have reared cattle, irrigated crops, assisted their parents weave, during their weekend holidays, have shaped into becoming better individuals.

To me, Mari’s ‘Vaazhai’ spoke in a completely different tone altogether. To begin with, Sivanaindhan’s life was not a happy nostalgia of Mari’s. Most of us would agree that the basic human needs in a child’s life are- safety, food and shelter. Sivanaindhan seemingly has a shelter over his head, food on his plate and safety of his mom. But the director urges us to ‘infer’ the psychological insecurities of the child.

The boy is seen sleeping under the steel cot and it was a connotation of ‘insecurity’, for me. Again, his constant bed-wetting implied an emotional stress in the boy’s mind. The anxious child, retaliates lugging and his mom and sister are left to coax him. Sivanaindhan is seen expressing his feelings to his sister, on more than one instance. He ‘chooses’ to participate in a weekend dance practice at school with his favorite teacher, over the strenuous banana bunch lugging. His sister respects his ‘freedom of choice’, the very same she had been denied in the name of ‘conditioning’. She lets him jump off the lorry and it turns out that she had let him ‘live’ both literally and figuratively. Little did she know that a few in the lorry including her, were ill-fated as the climax twists the tale.

UNICEF India, says an ideal childhood in India, is one where children are: Well-nourished, physically healthy, mentally alert, emotionally sound, socially competent, and ready to learn. The ever ready-to-learn child Sivanaindhan – ‘demands’ nourishment in the plain carbohydrate he hogs, ‘demands’ health in the neck sprain caused by lugging, ‘demands’ the right to choose to do what intrigues him. He is seen to stabilize his state of mind by clinging on to the teacher and ends up socially competent, by inferring the injustice, the meager ‘one-rupee hike’ had caused.  What should rightfully be his, as a child, Sivanaindhan had to demand it all from his ignorant parents, and eventually transform into ‘Mari Selvaraj’.

Going back to my doctor friend’s perspective, I told myself, assisting parents in lessening their burden, is not the same as lugging in ‘someone else’s farm’. The favor of running errands for parents, is nothing close to a child helping parent clear the family’s debts. It to me has the stench of ‘slavery’ all over it. Sivaniandhan is not complaining to rear his cow but he is ‘made to do it’ because he wanted to escape lugging. It’s just that the child demands ‘autonomy’ of doing what pleases him.

How can anyone brand a child fussy, the one who roots to break his ‘shackles free’. When the doctor friend claims many of his friends from similar background as that of Sivanaindhan’s, have struggled their way to become eminent, the discreet egoist within, coaxed, saying Mari Selvaraj had managed to become the voice of the oppressed, through his chosen medium of movies.

Depiction of ‘Hunger’ is a painful watch and when it is a child who is hungry, it leaves the on-looker’s heart wrenched. It is a daring script by the director on trying to demystify the plight of his down trodden ignorant parent(s), who were left with no choice other than coercing their children to work with them. There are scripts that leave you applauding for braving a solution, there are screenplays that leave you empathizing the distressed and there are directors who narrate ‘life’ like ‘Vaazhai’, that leaves one numb, helpless and bewildered, for bringing to light such untold facets of oppression.

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2024, Theatrical Release, 8.1/10 IMDB, Directed by TJ Gnanavel

Published in Baradwaj Rangan’s Movie Blog https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2024/10/16/readers-write-in-743-vettaiyan/

Not a mere age-appropriate story line, but also a solution-driven premise, that grants adequate space, for Rajinikanth to offer what his followers would be content with. The investigative thriller, twists and turns the screenplay, making the lead man to even tweak the context of his punch line, to indicate – ‘Hero’s transformation’.

The crux being ‘Encounter Killings’ and two big names of the industry shouldering the story line, Vettaiyan is bound to address social issues and it does. The two doyens, sharing screen space and Amitabh ji initially playing against Rajini and later working with him, is sheer nostalgia. The interactions between them begins a little cinematic but the director tries hard to maintain a realistic tone.

Rajinikanth playing Athiyan, an encounter specialist is introduced through the eyes of Patrick, a thief turned informer, played by the scintillating Fahad Fassil. Through him, the viewers are familiarized about the sensibilities of hero’s character and later the movie shapes in to an investigative thriller, revolving around a teacher turned activist Saranya, played by the powerful Dushara Vijayan.

The director takes two major issues and beautifully intersects them to arrive at a gripping narrative. To me, director TJ Gnanavel fills the void left behind by Director KV Anand and could easily owe it to the common journalism background of theirs. The screenplay spins off an investigative experience reminding the tonality of the movies like Ratsasan and Por Thozhil.

The director primarily highlights societal inequalities and then moves to ‘evaluate’ the hero’s macho extra-judicial killings. The tightly packed screen play in the later half, incorporates a sub text of disparities in education sector. The narration comes a full circle by addressing the consequences of encounter killings that circumvent criminal justice system, its repercussions on a larger picture and ends emphasizing the significance of trust in the judiciary.

The director adds yet another layer, ‘coaching institute mafia’ to the already juicy premise and it goes on to open dialogues in the viewer’s mind. To aid these societal introspective exercises within, the director, presents his researched facts to help evaluate the issues ourselves. The high morale intentions of the movie deal the loss of ‘one’ life in a fake encounter with deep concerns, and it strikes a contrast to the ‘rage induced’ eerie killings of recent times.

Rajinikanth plays a much-toned version of his usual self, by donning a soon-to-be retired daring cop. The director sets the stage to elicit certain throwback emotions from Rajini, giving the audience a few glimpses from the actor’s old classics. We did experience a ‘lost-child’ like emotions in Kabali, but in Vettaiyan, Rajini is ‘more human’ in erring and wanting to set right his wrong, through his deeds.

The guilt stridden depth in Rajini’s eyes, while meeting the human rightists headed by Amitabh were beautifully captured. The focus in channelizing his anger productively to prove the innocence of the accused, is a well deserving pay off by Athiayan, the caring guardian of teacher Saranya’s. The dialogue less montages of the temple visits intended to wipe away his sins were intensely calm. The tonality of Rajini’s character does change in to a crowd-pleasing mode at times, but the actor is seen to swiftly iron back to his rigid self and the story progresses.

The pace of the movie is doubled in the second half, as the story’s high point arrives a little too early. It is an irreplaceable interval block that leave the audience hooked. Since there are too many plot points, many interesting revelations go unnoticed and don’t get its due recognition. The visuals become a little tedious as it is trying to match the thought flow of the journalist director. The lengthy story, struggles to fit into the precise running time. But surprisingly the second watch dawned on me, the meticulous work that has gone into untying every single knot and giving the sub plots, a closure.

Though the reason why Saranya did not contact Athiyan immediately after the murder attempt wasn’t addressed explicitly, it read to me as, the girl got motivated by Athiyan’s parting words before he sent her off to Chennai- ‘Stay bold and continue the good work’. Also, later in the climax reveal, we become aware that her motive was to ‘safe guard the evidences’ than to save her own self.

Classifying ‘Education mafia’ as economic offense, is an interesting add-on, post Rajini’s punishment transfer. Director takes creative liberty to ignore the ‘small prints’ clause in agreements of such corporates and cruises to successfully create an inclusive awareness to parents, government bodies and the public in general.

The Director cohesively addresses the fundamentals of the issue one after the other. He does a reality check on the limited medical seats ratio, to the number of applicants guaranteed admissions by the mushrooming coaching institutes. The thread then highlights the financial crisis involved in the corporate models of ‘EMI towards coaching fee loans’. Later he correlates corporate firm’s ride on the ‘greed of parents’, who are sadly ignorant to assess the capabilities of their children and to guide them into different streams other than the socially recognized medical and engineering avenues.

The director eventually goes on to incorporate activism through his journalistic approach, in search of solutions. He boldly points the ‘stress building causes’ for suicides among children prepping for entrance exams via coaching institutes. He calls out that children are not just crammed with burdens of academics but also are forced to overcome language barriers in the last leg of their school career to join the main stream exam aspirants. It is an alarming indicator for a need of bigger change, either in the national testing pattern or in the up gradation of the state’s education sector at par with the unified education system.

I personally hoped the ‘solution drive’ doesn’t end with the climax and goes on to continue in the homes of aspiring children. Should the choices of the children from middle income group, be firmly analyzed, before registering them to such coaching institutes? Is the choice based on societal pressure or is it because of a mere fascination of the child, who doesn’t understand the magnitude of effort required? Assessing the incapability of the government sector to ‘up’ it’s standards to give the children the edge they deserve through their ‘school coaching’ is vital too.

The issues are complex and requires strong laws to govern the corporate institutes. Fee structure proportionate to the income of the parents, 50 percent seats of these coaching institutes to be allotted for government students, improving the standards of government schools to accommodate an integrated in-person coaching by qualified volunteers are few options that my mind kept spinning around after the movie. And I hope the movie aids as an awareness campaign, in changing the perspectives of the parents and would be even happier if it cautions the law makers by pushing reforms in the education sector that favors the ‘children’ and not just their party’s polity.

The director does try to accommodate elements to woo the audience like the introduction song ‘Manasilayoo’ by Manju Warrier. But the compulsive generic stunts undoubtedly drag the director’s narration, and is clearly evident that his sensibilities towards the success of big star vehicle is misplaced in the 90’s.

Saranya’s tragedy looping in ‘Rashomon effect’ substituting mundane flashback is a put off for many I hear, but three reiterations of the incident in a three-hour movie is nowhere near to the Indian rape statistics of 90 cases per day, which is approximately 3 rapes every hour. To me, it either alerts a young girl to evade such situations, warns the young boys on the impact of such actions and finally it doesn’t do much harm, than what the recent movies did by, housing mass killings, cannon firings and even a blood pooling decapitation by Rajini himself in his last outing.

Casting for the right reasons adds more strength to the narration. Rana Daggubati, as the coaching corporate head, relates to the Telugu speaking states where the highest number of IIT aspirants hail from. Ritika Singh a northern girl posted in Chennai. The show stealer, Fahad Fassil is introduced in the Kanyakumari District, with a back story connecting to the border sharing Kerala’s Juvenile reform school at Thiruvananthapuram.

Fahad is the only solace of comic relief through his over powering intelligence and satirical comments insisting on the need of a corrupt free, fast paced police force. The actor dons’ multiple hats both in the story and in his career. Every role of his enchants the audience and make them crave for more. His effortless performance captivates the viewers and his versatility leaves one in awe.

A super star movie without much screams or whistles in the theater is a scary affair. But the pin drop silence among the audience who are trying to engage themselves in the narrative, is a victory for both the star and the director.

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2024, Tamil, Theatrical, 8.3/10 IMDB, Directed by C. Prem Kumar

Published in National Award winning Movie Critic, Baradwaj Rangan’s blog on 3rd October 2024

Up close and personal with a duo, one who wallows in pain and the other gleefully witty, each taking inspirations from the other, to become a forgiving soul and a better human than what they both already are. Their interpersonal interactions emitting love and goodness, rubs off and prompts virtuousness. The film documents sensory pleasures through gestures, facial expressions, tone and body language, multiplying the dimensions of the undemanding story.

Only a very few have the bandwidth to detach, especially from their houses, even if it is an unpretentious abode. For many, ‘Home’, is the collective ‘tangible soul’ of ancestors, who lived there for generations. Young Arulmozhi played by the charming Saran Shakthi, comforted by the trunk of ‘Baby’ the elephant, is seen bidding farewell. He is parting not just his ‘ancestral house’ in a family partition, but we infer he also parts his nativity, his identity and his happiness. The soulful music stirs the vacuum with equally distressing lyrics referring to ‘going away as a mere skeleton’. I was left to sob silently, wondering if it was the lamenting music, the father who wants to flee before dawn to evade the pitying eyes of relatives and neighbours, the emptiness of the house when the doors are shut, with us audience standing lost inside the darkness of the locked house, or was it the director who had composed it all together to begin the movie’s narration with. Bet it was all of the above.

Arul helps his mom dig the concrete plastering beneath the worn out ‘Ammikal’- mortar and pestle, so it could be shifted to Chennai with them. But, the pain of losing a house in its entirety, makes him numb to ask for his old cycle be thrust in to the van that was already crammed and ready to move. As viewers, we witness the house having a destiny of its own, and now we are hinted, so will the old cycle, and we await the comeback of it, in the later half, thanks to those teasing teasers and prompting promos.

Arvindswamy, the grown Arulmozhi, and his parents in Chennai, are seen the same old ‘self-sympathizing, dwellers of the past’. We audience are left to accompany Arvind on his journey to a village named ‘Needamangalam’, adjacent to his native town Thanjavur, along with his wife Hema, played by the soothing Devadharshini, who stays connected over phone. The director’s surreal characterization leaves us hooked in reminiscence, for each of our lives would have a tale of such a relative who opted living ingonito, an agnathavasam, in my case, my aunt and her family.

Karthi is introduced as an amusing charmer, the native ‘go-to-relative’ who is closely knit with the whole bunch of relatives and their lives. Again, I was left to recollect my cousin, who is my maternal family’s go-to-person, for his relative database, guides us to invite the relatives in person for an event in any of our houses, say a marriage. The point of views of Arvind and Karthi are striking contrasts. While Karthi idolized Arvind, Karthi is a mere ‘motor mouth’ annoyance for Arvind. The movie comes a full circle when Arvind’s opinions are reversed, as he is sent on a soul search through the eyes of the other, while trying to understand who Karthi is. For Karthi, it is thanksgiving but for Arvind it is to find his lost ‘happy’ self.

The screenplay is at is strongest, sans any loose ends like the ‘black ribbon’ on Karthi’s shirt is a prologue for him being an activist. Every prop, dialogue, gesture and character have a purpose, for they are part of this honest narrative. The wives of Karthi and Aravindswamy not accompanying them to the wedding, is the solitude monger, Director C Prem Kumar’s pattern to get into his forte of ‘deep talks’.

As the two men, begin to bond over a couple of earthen pot drink, conversations begin to unveil Karthi’s character and the actor devours the opportunity to own the screen space. Karthi’s characterization is much more complex and the director keeps adding layers of genuinity, gullibility and nativism to arrive at the modern-day warrior, that he is. His empathy, his historic affiliation, political sensibilities- the man is a role model. Those are the exact words of Arvind to his wife on reaching back to Chennai – Karthi is an epitome of good Samaritans and he is no where near Karthi.

The cycle has a comeback in the later half as predicted and it turns Arvind a teen, and Karthi, his mom who had safe-kept the child’s favourite possession, not to surprise him someday, but as a memento, a souvenir, a life changing instrument, a Deity. After a frantic search on the wall hung school photo, trying to remember and identify who Karthi is, Arvind cringes, in comparison, realizing he doesn’t know the name of the ‘being’, who drenches him with love.

The director opts to make Arvind flee Karthi’s house, just like his family did long ago, in the middle of the night. But this time in a different kind of shame. On his mad rush out of the house, he clutches the slippers of Karthi closer to his chest, the ones he wore mistakenly, turns back with tears gushing, and looks longingly into the alley, just to see if Karthi is coming to stop him flee. In the beautifully composed sequence, Arvind proclaims to the world, what his true potentials are.

Karthi’s wife Nandhini played by Sri Divya, stays true to her mythological name, for Nadhini is the daughter of Kamadenu, the bovine goddess who fulfils all the desires. We witness Nandhini fulfilling all possible wishes of Karthi and Karthi duly reciprocating in fulfilling hers. The ace director, beautifully intertwines the sentiments of the two men, by merging in the common denominator – ‘Home’. The self-made person Karthi, says he bought his father-in-law’s house by paying off the shares of Nandhini’s siblings, just to bring back happiness in his wife’s face. The scene stirs the conscience of the audience as we are inevitability left to weigh the lives of Arvind’s and Karthi’s.

The wildlife cinematographer turned director couldn’t refrain from capturing the parallel lives of animals and birds, around us humans. The pandemonium of parrots, the red bulbul building its nest under a cart, the cat stepping out of the cricket helmet, the gigantically grown temple elephant, the Kangeyam Jallikattu bull, the pedicuring ayira kunjugal (spiny loaches fingerlings), the cobra and its supposed hatchlings at the backyard – we have them all fascinatingly co-existing in Meiyazhagan..

Director explores all possible dimensions of love through his characters, for ‘Meiyazhagan’ is an embodiment of love, both literally and figuratively. Cousin sister Bhuvana, rejoices Arvind turning up for the wedding with gifts to treasure. Bus conductor Jaggu, an old student of his father’s, takes liberty to insist Arvind to ignore conflicts with a few, respect the love of the majority and visit home town more frequently. Latha, his cousin regrets marrying an alcoholic instead of marrying Arvind and she forces a second serve of rice with overflowing love.

The wedding caterer insists Arvind taste ‘Ashoga Halwa’. The florist outside the temple says, it is ‘Our God’, and He won’t mind if Arvind hasn’t bathed. The beautiful bond between Kanagarasu, the ‘no-face’ handy boy and Karthi, are such amusing reels, as they poke fun at each other. It is Govind Vasnath’s music that elevates these visuals and like in ‘96’, their combination assists translating the Director’s emotions in the right context, that he had envisioned.

Characterizations with high moral values, elevated in style, makes this noble premise, rise above the ordinary. Love inspires, Love heals, Love transforms people, Love motivates forgiveness and Love conceptualizes and celebrates works like ‘Meiyazhagan’. Oh yeah, ‘Anbe Arutperum Mei’- Love is the divine truth.

https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2024/10/03/readers-write-in-737-meiyazhagan/

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2024, Paperback Book, Wellness guide, Authored by Sejal Shah

A comprehensive maternal wellness handbook, on Chakras and Koshas, amalgamating ancient wisdom and modern-day pregnancy. Theory meets personal experience of the author, making it an analytical journal of self-assessment to restore equilibrium.

‘Pregnancy’ is a phase of a woman’s life, that she would dread till she experiences it and rejoice the moment all her life, later. In an age where Grandmas are replaced by Apps to guide these millennial moms to be, in what the gen z calls it an ‘adventure’, comes ‘the first light’, a path finder for many young women, to realign their course of journey through the trimesters.

The book transported me to my pregnancy days, almost three decades ago, where neither google existed or my grand ma or even my mom for that matter, didn’t possess any scientific awareness. All they were aware of were a few unexplained myths pertaining to pregnancy and nothing more. However, coming to think of it, my generation of young mothers were rather blessed, I presume, as we did not experience the digital overload that seems to suffocate gen z. I was fortunate to have my delivery in the United Kingdom as my husband, a surgeon was with the NHS. On reading Sejal’s First Light, I could relate those tangles of emotions of mine, both antenatal and postnatal, that went unattended to, then. I was disturbed for a while after reading the book, as I was left to pity the twenty-year-old pregnant ‘ME’.

I was super impressed with the structure of chapters in the book and the flow of content. It was like walking beside the author, envisaging my own experience. The introduction to the energy centre, touching upon Taittiriya Upanishad and addressing the chakras one after the other with its Sanskrit origin, hooked me to the book, for it made me revisit my Samskritha Bharathi exams days of trying to decode verses. The reader is systematically introduced to the chakras, their traits, identification of the chakras within and realigning them with respect to goals.

The inquisitive questionnaires and the interpretations of the score, seem to connote ‘Self Discipline’, and I inferred, the book could benefit anyone who has an intention to become more ‘self aware’. My notion for life often revolved around the funda – ‘achieving the right balance to endure happiness’ and Sejal beautifully represents the art of balancing the chakras through illustrative yogic postures, her goal indicating, eternal happiness.

Yoga had been a part of my life for nearly 7 years now and it always had been an instrument for achieving a flexible body and a stress free soul. With Sejal’s guidance on Chakras and Koshas, I can see myself walking through the doors to enter a whole new world of wisdom, as I realized, Yoga is no longer a mere flexibility tool or a cardio program to brag one’s accomplishment of higher sets of soorya namaskars in a day. I was left convinced- ‘Yoga is a Breath of Awareness to nurture my Emotional Well being’

As I progressed reading, I was left with awe for the amount of research that had gone in to writing this book, the highlight of the book being its precise profundity. The handbook shall easily be my ‘go-to’ guide for aasana references and chakra and kosha interpretations.

Kudos to the young author, dearest Sejal Shah and looking forward for more such gems, making it a series of wellness publications.

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2024, Tamil, Theatrical, 9/10 IMDB, Directed by Tamizharasan Pachamuthu

Published in Baradwaj Rangan’s movie blog. https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2024/09/25/readers-write-in-734-lubber-pandhu/

A perfect confluence of design, content and style, this flick keeps the audience engaged, as much as any gully cricket match would. It becomes a crowd favourite as the maker wraps a relationship drama into the cricket premise. Attakathi Dinesh, Harish Kalyan make their presence felt, along with actor ‘Vijayakanth’ who joins them from above.

Cricket sells, but not every sports drama with cricket as its premise, wins the audience over. The movie, ‘Chennai 28’ enchanted the cricket loving audience, more than a decade and half ago, and Lubber Pandhu is aimed at mimicking that magic. ‘Blue Star’, released early this year, has a similar sub text of caste marring the spirit of sports with layers of romance. But ‘Lubber Pandhu’ sugar coats the same, in a ‘non-preachy’ mode, as the screenplay spins an amusing family drama around.

The form and design of the two movies are pretty much similar. Both the movies throw light on how ‘caste in sports’ is a deadly combo. ‘Blue Star’ tries to instil fear in the viewer’s minds by laying emphasis on the consequences of concocting caste in sports, through narrating an unpleasant violent incident of the past. ‘Lubber Pandhu’ indicates the same, ever-so precisely involving minimal semiotic inferences. Lubber Pandhu’s screenplay is stacked with emotions but the predominant of them all is the ‘ego clash’ between the two lead men. The strength of the movie is the director’s subtlety in visualizing complex issues.

Athakathi Dinesh’s character Poomaalai, surpasses the vibrant Harish Kalyan’s Anbu character. The characterization compliments the actor’s unique onscreen emoting skills and the depth in his eyes. His nonchalant demeanour, lion like valour on the cricket ground and love – stricken adolescent mannerism when at home, is not a loud transition yet the actor exhibits it beautifully through his fluid body language. The bond with his daughter and love towards his mom, makes Poomaalai a complete package and the soul of the movie. The nuances in his expressions, adds more layers, other than what is explicitly seen onscreen. For instance, he tires not reveal the ego that disturbs his inner peace and when it does spurt out, the actor plays, a mere ‘tool’, to express what had been brewing within him, over a period of time.

However, Harish Kalyan’s character seem to be etched with more depth, as he is seen to be more mature among the two, when it comes to manipulating situations to get what he desires. From participating as a guest player in the teams of his choice to up his career, to showcase his nobility in letting ‘colony boys’ to be a part of the team that once rejected him, Anbu steals our hearts. Sporting true sportsmanship when in failure makes him to be looked up to. Repainting the CSK fanatic paint on the walls of his house with the colour choice of his fiancé’s and rehearsing an apology note to the would-be father-in-law, the young actor is super convincing. Harish Kalyan the ‘Parking’ actor, is on a roll and his choice to play beside a hero with equal screen-space and mass moments, is not just brave. It throws light on the actor’s passion to play versatile roles in stronger and newer scripts.

The female leads mom and daughter duo, take the centre stage as their characters are equally stronger to that of the men folks. The men get much ‘macho’ on the cricket ground, only to become ‘kittens’ when at home, explaining the respect they possess for the love of their lives. Poomaalai sleeps every night making his bed out of his wife’s sarees, following a ruckus at the stadium, resulting in her walking out. It is easily the height of mid-age romance. Poomaalai’s mom played by the adorable Geetha Kailasam, takes her cow and calf to her daughter in law’s mother’s house, saying the cattle are missing her. Later, she declares she miss her too, as there is no one to give her food and give the right pills. Those ‘melodramatic prone’ sequences, rather transpires beautifully as a pinnacle of romance.

The assistant director at the Madras talkies, Sanjana Krishnamoorthy’s personal confidence oozes through her character ‘Durga’ as Poomaalai’s daughter. Her bold, outspoken and sensible characterisation, strikes a contrast to her mother’s, who is often seen cursing her husband’s passion, for it doomed their lives and buried them in debts. I have my share of problems with the characterisation of Poomaalai’s wife played by the bold Swasika. She is this strict anti-cricket soul, who is constantly curbing her husband from playing cricket, right from the opening sequence, where she is seen ploughing the pitch with her tractor. It does relate to the anger of all the mothers of the ‘Indian gully cricket boys’ who are worried about their son’s lives being wasted on the highly competitive sport.

It resonates much with the mom character in ‘Blue Star’, who is trying to steer her sons away from the game. But the director there establishes a father character who insists that the game is not a mere waste of time, if taken seriously. He is seen to channelise his son’s talent productively, by trying to acquire a job at ICF, where he worked, and is seen to apply for the same duly.

Swasika who plays Yashodhai, the wife of Poomaalai, in Lubber Pandhu, is constantly seen stern faced and iron fisted. She is seen brimming with love, cooking meat for her lover-turned husband to save it for him in a silver tiffin box and adorns a few smiles, in a couple of bus ride montages with Poomaalai. Except for these few sequences, she is mostly seen grumpy.

The promise that Yashodai insists her husband Poomaalai makes in front of God, that he will quit playing cricket, which he dupes, is a fun watch. In the latter half of the movie, Anbu is shown to express his magnanimity in making the team become ‘inclusive’ to welcome young talents, by wiping ‘caste’ out of the equation. The warmth of this reveal, seems to lose its significance, when Yashodhai, asks the duo Poomaalai and Anbu as the end credits role, to make the same promise of not to play cricket again.

The mood of the movie would have instilled hope in many youngsters, had Yashodhai, come to terms in acknowledging the passion and direct the duo to become better care takers of family too. Branding them players as unprincipled, good for nothing rogues, who would never be there for the family when needed, is stereotyping the societal youngsters at large, whose are left to compromise their passion for the game.

Being the wife of a surgeon, me and my daughter had many a times missed the presence of him, especially in times of need or important moments of our lives, as he would be busy operating elsewhere. Had the director made Yashodhai repent for the branding, had she spoken to Poomaalai about balancing his passion for the game and his bread winning career, her loudness, would have resulted purposefully.

Actor Vijayakanth’s songs played to celebrate Poomaalai’s cricket prowess, is a master stroke by the makers, as it not only exhibits their love for the actor, but also value adds Dinesh’s character traits to that of the departed soul’s. Categorizing people by coupling them with particular butchery, does fall under a self-branding exercise. Not spelling it out loud might be a subtlety decision and the makers could have steered clear from those labelling, as well.

Striking the right balance and the right chords creates magic, irrespective of few loose ends. ‘Blue Star’ stayed rigid in trying to document the ‘pain’ that plays spoil sport in ‘Sports’. Whereas, ‘Lubber Panthu’ eases its stance in documenting the pain, by mellowing down the ‘loud structure’, which otherwise would have drawn attention to itself, ruining the very text, that was intended to be narrated. The difference is pretty much like Pa. Ranjith’s and Mari Slevaraj’s films, ‘Blue Star’ being from the former’s production house.

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2024, Tamil, Theatrical release, 7.6/10 IMDB, Directed by Pa. Ranjith

Published in Brardwaj Rangan’s Movie Blog https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2024/08/17/readers-write-in-719-thangalaan-the-shaman/

An intelligently crafted oppression saga, backed by a committed team, strives to root back to the origin of ‘sufferings’. The makers, convincingly arrive at a novel premise by synthesizing two wisdom systems- the palaeolithic ‘Shamanism’ and the fifth century ‘Buddhism’. The narrative layers of Buddhist doctrine on caste, a personal agenda of the director, manages to come a full circle without much divergence, keeping the tonality in tact.

It is exhilarating to understand the mind space of Director Ranjith. He amalgamates wisdoms from two systems and interlinks them, to narrate a story of the oppressed, in a period film, with the Kolar Gold fields as its back drop. And he aptly calls it, ‘Thangalaan’ meaning ‘Son of Gold’.

Thangalan played by the riveting actor Vikram, performs outstandingly the three narratives of his character. The Veppur villager with his wife and children in North Arcot, a fierce ancestor of his, and the fifth century climax reveal. The stories that were passed on by his ancestors about the sorceress guarding the village’s gold ore, haunts him in his sleep and he almost wakes delusional. Yet Thangalaan passes it on to his children, as their bed time story.

Taking its origin from the Sanskrit word ‘Shraman’ which denotes a ‘religious ascetic’, or a ‘holy wanderer’, ‘Shamans’ are the world’s first story tellers. They used stories to alleviate pain, to heal body, mind and ‘spirit‘. Shamans were instrumental in passing on culture to descendants and teaching both lore and law. Ranjith plays our Shaman, for he narrates Thangalaan’s ancestor stories with gripping visuals and gory horror, of the sorceress ‘Aarathi’

Semiotics of Buddhism in Ranjith’s movies are nothing new, but the director chooses to dwell in depth this time, for it is the crux of Thangalaan’s plot. Broadly speaking, Buddhism attempts to bring the followers to a similar state of consciousness that Buddha attained. It generally involves analyzing one’s sufferings, to attain a state of awareness, and Ranjith leads us in to the world of Buddhism by doing just the same with his lead character. Thangalaan’s land is grabbed and he is pushed to slavery. He is forced to accompany a British gold hunting team along with few friends of his. The hero is seen ‘evaluating his sufferings‘ and braves to face his fear of the sorceress.

Thangalaan proceeds his journey, being persuaded by his own motto, ‘Only those who dares to die, gets to live‘, but his eyes are constantly searching to ‘see‘ the ‘unseen‘ from the lore about spirits. As he walks the Elephant Hill path, in sync with his ancestor’s gold hunt narrative, we viewers are left engrossed. The stories of the spirit begin to unfold for real, except the spirit of Aarathi is replaced with a Budhha’s statue as evidence, and Ranjith beautifully marries Shamanism and Buddhism.

The director gives references of kings including Tipu Sultan, who weren’t able to access the ore, as it proved dangerous owing to the reptile menace in the dry terrain and an ‘unseen force’ guarding the rock. In shamanic journey ‘sound‘ is used as a vehicle for shifting awareness inward and Ranjith seems to represent a high pitch shrill sound of the sorceress, as a medium, so Thangalaan could be reminded of the responsibilities of his ancestors.

The sorceress story might very well be a spin off to restrict people from mining the ores and depleting the wealth that rightfully belong to the tribe, as simple as the phrase, in Tamil, ‘poi sonna sami kanna kuthum’ translates, ‘if you lie, god will poke your eyes’. A tactic of insisting on a virtue by instilling fear in minds.

Ranjith chooses to narrate the guidance of the ‘animal skin clad helping spirits’ the very feature of shamanism, thus implying ‘Aarathi’ is a guiding spirit, who was misconceived to be evil. He also reiterates by spelling the Buddhist essence of the movie – when the cause of pain is identified, the ‘art of detachment‘ from worldly needs, is the solution to end ‘sufferings‘.

Parvathy Thiruvothu as Gengammal playing Thangalaan’s wife, is loud and loving. A mid aged mother of five, becomes a child herself when Thangalan buys blouses for the community’s women. Ecstasy in the women, the reaffirmation they seek from their respective husbands on wearing the blouses, and the dance of pride with their blouses on – it is Ranjith showcasing his women like he did with his Selvi from Kaala, his Kumudhavalli from Kabali and his Malayamma from Saarpatta Parambarai.

Maalavika Mohanan plays Aarathi, the spirit who is primarily the antagonist. Her performance is quite convincing, opposite the quintessential Vikram. Had there been a powerful cast, the likes of Nayanthara or the original choice of the team, Rashmika Mandhanna, would the clash of the Titans, been more dreading, I wondered.

Pasupathi’s role as a converted VaishnaviteGengupattar, is multi-dimensional and the actor aced it. But sadly, the character arc seemed suspended mid way, as the director limits the character’s scope only for caste reference. Same goes for Hari Krishnan and Preeti Karan, playing the newly married. Both their characters trails all through the film but fails to connect to the viewers, as much as it should have. The screenplay becomes frenzied and one doesn’t feel the pain of them falling prey to the Britisher’s greed.

Daniel Caltagirone’s character Lord Clement is pitched beautifully but ends in a haste midst the chaotic rush towards the end. The shocking change in the character’s motive doesn’t make the impact it ought to have.

Vikram is an actor who surrenders to the role he plays and volunteers to add more facets to the character, but as Thangalaan, he sets a new bench mark for actors across the globe. Sporting an earthy native matted hair-do, his loinclothed toned legs, the keloid scars creeping from his fore head to his half shaven skull, the slushy body, deluded eyes with constant fear and an honest naivety in dialogue delivery, just loud enough for the sync sound microphones- Vikram ‘births‘ Ranjith’s ‘Thangalaan‘ alive.

Hayao Miyazaki, an internationally acclaimed Japanese animator film maker known for his respect towards spirits of trees and woods, rivers and seas, says, “Call them Gods, Spirits, Nature or Environment. They are there if we know where to look, and their gifts for us are ready if we know how to ask. We have only to approach them as a child would, with open eyes and open hearts”.

From Ferngully to Avatar, from the subdued Tamil movie Thane to the blockbuster Kannada movie Kantara, however small or big, we celebrated the spirits that intend to protect the tribes who were assigned to guard the environment. And Thangalaan is our very own version of the Japanese ‘Kami’ which means, deity, divinity or spirit. It is Ranjith’s calling, to protect natural resources, adhering to the well-wishing guarding spirits. He infers to fight it out if need be and even if it means by sacrificing life, while doing it.

Tangalaan stitches his clothes, only to wear it back again, with exemplary pride. The clothes that he earned in respect from the British Lord, the ones that were purposefully torn in insult. Ranjith inches his revolt further forward with Thangalaan, in demanding respect for the oppressed, like he did with all his heroes, for ‘perseverance is many short races one after the other‘.  

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2024, Malayalam, Amazon Prime, 7.7/10 IMDB, Directed by Christo Tomy

Published in Baradwaj Rangan’s Blog.

https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2024/08/09/readers-write-in-716-ullozhukku-a-halo-shatterer/

Engulfed by a sinister aura, this beautifully narrated drama, surfaces the buried emotions of two women, only to align their moralities eventually. The leading ladies ‘grieve their grievances’ through intense, ‘layered performance’, and we audience find ourselves becoming ‘agony aunts’, comforting the onscreen-duo.

Director Christo’s premise is straight from a chapter of his personal life, as he had acknowledged in an interview – ‘lashing monsoon preventing the burial of his family member’. The gloomy tonality of the premise is constant but with every moving frame, one is drawn closer to story and the lead characters, Leelamma Ammachi played by the terrific Urvasi and her daughter in law Anju, played by the striking Parvathy Thiruvothu.

The minimalism in the story line, ironically translates a challenging production design. While a low-lying area, that stagnates water from the heavy down pour for days together, is the premise, the crux is that the stagnation prevents a burial ritual. The timing of the OTT release, works in favor of the makers, as it is in perfect sync with the aftermath of a disaster in the state, a reality check, that sets the mood right making the viewers resonate with the ground reality. Camera gazes the water stagnated cemetery, and the tombs narrates a ‘non-welcoming’ story of their own on ‘climate crisis’.

Director Chirsto’s narrative style is crisp and his shot divisions are befitting. The frames are definitive and sequences, precise. Anju is in love with a man, but her wedding photo shoot camera angle, captures a different person, walking in to the frame. The circumstances are dealt with later, and the director chooses to do it only when the time is right. Similar are many disentangling situations in the story, and Christo aces narrating each one of those plot points at the right time.

The sequence, Leelamma, her sick son Thomaskutty and her daughter-in-law Anju at the doctor’s out-patient department, doesn’t reveal much. But a hunch is sowed when Leela askes Anju to fetch medicines, just when the mom and son enter the consultation room alone, while Thomaskutty looks Anju walking away, with guilt-stricken eyes. . I was reminded of one of my husband’s patients who was diagnosed with Chronic Ulcerative Colitis. He was accompanied every time by his parents, and his newly married wife was asked politely to wait outside, until one day the wife walked in alone with her parents, to know more about her husband’s ailment.

Coincidentally, both in the movie and in reality, the wives nursed their husbands, through the ailment and hospitalization, irrespective of her physical detachment in the case of Anju in the movie. The wealthy parents of the girl in reality, were concerned about their young daughter’s life, as she was fraudulently married to a sick man, but in the movie, the director’s sub plot tell a heart wrenching tale, about the ‘not so wealthy’ parents of Anju, in a revelation later.

The screenplay catches us unaware by breaking familiar patterns. The scenes overlap beautifully, moving the story forward by revealing vital plot points unassumingly without any pomp and the editor Kiran Das deserves a mention. Anju in her forceful marriage’s ‘almost consensus’ consummation, indicates she had ‘moved on’. She is haloed, when she cares for her sick husband. But her intimate indifference, instantly trails us to the phone call from a saved number in the name of a ‘girl’ and her meeting her lover accidentally in the pharmacy during her husband’s hospital visit.

The genuity in the care she provides to her sick husband, a striking contrast to her illicit affair, are quite illustrative of her two facets and the viewers are left in dilemma whether to be judgemental of her. Leelamma, learning about Anju’s pregnancy was another shot that catches Anju and the viewers off guard, and it happens so organically. Similar are the instances when the family’s wooden cradle climbing down the loft even with the backdrop of a delayed funeral, and it climbing back to the loft again as soon as Leelamma second guesses the father of the child, after a hearing a male voice from Anju’s female friend’s number.

Halos keeps shattering, Leelamma’s, for maintaining secrecy about her son’s health and then shatters Anju’s mom’s, who confesses, that it was her who kept the secret from the family about the groom’s illness, so that her daughter would be married into a big family. But when the final halo shatters off Anju’s lover Rajeev, her final decision, though predictable, is heart-warming.

The lead ladies seemed to have devoured their respective composite characters. Both their acts nudge the audience, to morally evaluate their deeds and the repercussions there after, but the distress these beautiful ladies had to undergo in their personal lives, all in the name of societal pressures, restricts us from calling them out as fraudster or a cheat.

Both their halos do ‘mend’ with their final choice and acceptance, to be a family, discarding societal norms. While the maker surfaces the intangible distress in women around us, by narrating the stories of these two women, he also addresses the role of parents in shaping these helpless women’s lives.

After a bout of illness of her son’s, Leelamma talks to Anju about her unfulfilled medical college dream in spite of her good marks, compromised for an early marriage and child birth. A mother regretting not to have pursued her studies, when her adult married son is sick, is a poetic representation of the helpless plight of women who are sabotaged in the name of societal pressures.

Leelamma claims, ‘God is jealous of her happiness’ and later Anju confronts her mother-in-law, when the two exchange dialogues in front of the freezer box. Anju’s spuing sadistic remarks, that Leelamma’s life was nothing to be jealous of, makes Leelamma realise that her life had been a sunken ship all along. Likewise, Leelmma’s courteous words while defending Anju from her accusing daughter, by acknowledging Anju’s loving care in nursing Thomaskutty, in fact influences Anju to turn her choice around, in the climax.

The superficial bond between these two women blossoms into a mom-daughter relationship and then into companionship. The transition only reflects their innate positives and humaneness. Was fondly recollecting Director K Balachander’s 1977 movie ‘Avargal’, for the estranged mother of Ramanathan, was ‘Leelavathi’ and the wife’s name was ‘Anu’- a coincidental rhyme to the names ‘Leelamma and Anju’ and their choices in the climax.

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2024, Tamil, Theatrical release, IMDB 8.6/10, Directed by Nithilan Saminathan

Following views of mine on the movie has been published in Baradwaj Rangan’s Movie Blog on 21st June 2024

A complex narration of an average person’s tale, told with conviction, beautifully concurs a parallel story to catch the audience by surprise. Director Nithilan showcases his narrative prowess through the overlapping plot points and handles the ensemble’s individual arcs largely, except for couple of futile female characters. The compromise in exploring the mind space of the lead roles in view of keeping the suspense and non-linear narrative intact, let’s the narration down in places.

The director chooses to narrate the story of actor Vijay Sethupathi’s title character, keeping in dark his true intentions, up until the interval block. A grim-faced man who is adamant of giving all things best to his daughter, be it sports shoes or an apology from the school principal who had mistakenly accuses her.

I couldn’t help being reminded of a similar sequence, a school backdrop in the movie ‘Chithha’. Both the situations translated similar to me even though the essence were in complete contrast. In Chithha, on knowing that his niece did commit the mistake, actor Siddarth, the uncle would change her school instead of giving an apology letter. Both men are shown adamant, demanding that the child is given due respect. Here Vijay Sethupathi holds adamantly on to the grill till the ceiling debris down demanding the principal to apologize and there Siddarth adamantly moves his niece from an environment where she might be stigmatized. The latter composition, seemed to have blossomed organically while the former was loudly attention seeking. The director not only establishes how much the child means to Vijay Sethupathi but also seems to build a firewall for the actor’s actions that are to follow.

In Chithha, when actor Sidharth tries to revenge his niece’s molester, as audience we were left to hope that someone would stop him, so he doesn’t become a murderer. But here, owing to the non-linear suspense, not knowing the trauma of his and his daughter’s, when Vijay Sethupathi decapitates someone, it doesn’t draw the due sympathy for the griever. From the viewer’s perspective I was kind of left in lurch, not knowing whether to condemn or commend the actor’s deeds.  

The brilliant plot overlapping on timelines works flawlessly. The quest, at the police station to find the whereabouts of ‘Lakshmi’, the personified ‘dustbin’ that saved Vijay’s ‘apparent’ infant daughter (irrespective of the master climax twist), reminds of VJS’s ‘Naduvula Konjam Pakkam Kaanom’ repetitive episodes. The repetitiveness would not have been so forceful had there been enough prologue to the character’s trait, I wondered. The laughter intended to dodge the viewers off the suspense, does provide comic relief, but only superficially, as it stalls the momentum of the serious story that awaits to transpire.

Anurag Kashyap’s performance in ‘Imaikka nodigal’ was much spoken about, as the character was seen to challenge the protagonist and her team by hampering and trailing their investigations from scene one. On the contrary in ‘Por Thozhil’ the protagonist was revealed much later just before the interval block. And in ‘Ratsasan’ the antagonist’s story is not revealed much later towards the last third of the movie. All the three antagonist’s characters work brilliantly even though their entry into story is differently placed.

In Maharaja, the character Selvam played by Anurag is placed on the parallel story as antagonist and Vijay Sethupathi is on a different trail for a ‘dustbin’. By the time the two stories concur on revealing parts of the suspense, the darkness over the motive of the lead actor doesn’t pay off as much as it was intended. The reveal of overlapping knots sweeps the awe factor, rather. The reveal was indeed path breaking but the intensity that the other three antagonists in the movies mentioned earlier had, Anurag’s character Selvam couldn’t emulate.

And yet again in the climax suspense, the reveal was breathtaking and Vijay Sethupathi’s reaction on seeing Anurag was priceless. It beautifully reminded the ‘gasp’ that Kavin’s character in the movie ‘Star’ had when he was given his newborn after the death of his wife. But the final reveal made me wonder if the director had captured enough of the benevolence of the character ‘Maharaja’ himself, to substantiate the action of Vijay Sethupathi raising ‘the baby’, that was saved by the fall of the ‘Dustbin’ Lakshmi.

Except for the incident that Vijay goes to give the baby’s chain to the customer Anurag, who had left it accidentally in the former’s barber shop, we are not given the prologue of his traits. Other than evident facts that he lives with his daughter far away from the hustle of the town, shares a strong bond with her, is supportive of her passion and is adamant, we are forbidden to enter the mental space of the character, owing to maintain the ‘suspense’ the screenplay houses.

But the final reveal makes one retrospect the reason behind the grim, non-expressive face of actor Vijay’s, all through the movie and the kind of emotions that would have driven him to avenge the way he did. The brave adolescent girl wanting to confront the offenders was super commendable but I was filled with nostalgia, recollecting ‘Gargi’. The climax left me walk home with memories of ASI Vinod Kumar, of the movie ‘Iratta’, played by the fantastic Joju George.

Abirami plays the antagonist’s wife. Her sub-urban dialogue delivery, casual body language, motherly instincts and love talks with her husband doesn’t translate the script’s depth onscreen, as the innate nativeness went missing in Anurag’s vague counter reactions. Indigenousness in a script makes the visuals more profound and I was left to long, thinking of the bond between the characters of Kalaiyarasan and Riythvika from the 2014 movie ‘Madras’.

The bars were set high for the director after his debut feature film ‘Kurangu Bommai’ and while Maharaja doesn’t let him down, it doesn’t set the bar at a new height, either. Vijay Sethupathi’s passion for the craft, lets him dwell into the mind space of his characters and he chooses intentionally to act restrained in ‘Maharaja’. But sadly, his sketchy scheme, made more sense, retrospectively, much after the end credits rolled.

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