With Retro, Karthik Subbaraj has stretched his limits in the usual challenges he gives himself while writing. After being too comfortable with a single genre shift, in Retro he has tried to mash in 4 or 5 genres into one and has failed miserably in the majority of it. He started the movie by setting the bar so high with that spectacular single shot that blends in the Kanima song so well that everything that followed turned out to be a disappointment, one after another. I appreciate the thought of exploring love, laughter, war, and folklore in a single movie, but it has just distracted KS as a writer too much that he has failed in most of it.

None of the emotions that he was trying to evoke had any lasting impact on me. There wasn’t even enough time to grieve for Paari’s lost love in jail before he went on to become the leader in jail. Right when I was getting into his redemption arc, we were forced to laugh at Jayaram’s jokes. It took a few scenes to even understand where this was going before we got to an island with random folklore that had nothing to do with any of the story that happened until now. Then, before trying to understand the environment there, we once again got a mixture of mass moments and love reconciliation scenes. The screenplay was just completely all over the place, and it didn’t let any emotion sit with me for enough time to even process it.

KS is a master in using Chekhov’s gun but has used it in terrible ways in multiple places in Retro. Paari learning martial arts and inner peace during his imprisonment could have been taken to different levels of character elevation but turned out to be bleak, mass moments in unnecessary scenes. Surya’s character itself is just all over the place – he’s teaching morals to a bunch of gangsters, falling in love with his childhood crush, blackmailing a therapist to travel with him in a quest to find his love, lying his way to gain his love back, joining a cult to cope with his love failure, and transforming into a god to save his people. And none of these have any reasoning behind them other than just KS using his creative license to put together because someone pushed him to complete a project within a deadline.

Most of the second half just felt like KS trying to make a shittier version of DoubleX. It has the same story but with poor execution and a lot more unnecessary stuff shoved into it. With just a small change in the climax where the tribals don’t actually die. What was he even thinking?

But with this diverse canvas, Surya does give commendable performances in multiple places. Especially in the Joker-esque laugh sequence, Surya has explored his extremes. Jayaram is the only other actor whose performance stands out. Everyone else just gives the minimal necessary effort to portray the already lazily written characters in a broken screenplay. Santhosh Narayanan and Shreyaas Krishna (DOP) have given their life and soul into every scene. Even for some bad elevation and love scenes, the music still stands out. And the metaphors of laughter all along were good to catch as Easter eggs but die out because of the overall bad product.

I admire KS’s ambition though – Retro is the creative equivalent of a high‑wire act without a safety net. Here’s hoping his next balance between style and substance sticks the landing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about movies lately – not just watching them, but really thinking about what they mean to us. You know how sometimes you’re scrolling through reviews before deciding to watch something, and you catch yourself wondering: “Wait, why do I care what others think?” That got me down a rabbit hole of questioning the whole movie-watching experience.

Here’s the thing: we often treat movies as either pure art or just business ventures, but reality isn’t that neat. Take Lover and Lubber Pandhu – these films gained traction simply because early viewers and online reviews gave them momentum. Meanwhile, many producers will avoid working with Kumararaja (the converse is also true though) despite making two critically acclaimed movies Aaranya Kaandam and Super Deluxe. Why? Because somewhere between art and commerce, money talks.

But let’s get real – most of us don’t think about box office numbers when we’re settling in with popcorn. We’re there for the story, the visuals, the performances. Yet even this simple act of enjoyment has an economic angle. Whether we’re buying a ticket or subscribing to a streaming service, we’re paying them our hard earned money just to see what they have made.

This gets especially interesting when we look at indie films versus blockbusters. Every ticket for films like Pizza and Soodhu Kavvum practically helped keep the lights on for both the creator and the producer. But then you have something like GOAT or any big hero movie recently going on to become the highest grossing movie of the year despite the scathing reviews. It’s like two different worlds operating under the same roof.

The indie vs. blockbuster divide raises another question: should we consume different types of movies differently? I mean, that small-budget indie film might desperately need your theater ticket, while that big-hero movie is probably going to make bank anyway. So does that change our necessity to pay for stuff that only needs our money or are we paying for the art as a principle? I used to be vehemently against movie piracy because of the impact it had on the makers’ lives. But with the current economics of movies and how insured a lot of those are in terms of breaking even or even making profits, should piracy even be considered a sin anymore?

Here’s what fascinates me: movies are simultaneously products and art. Creators can’t completely ignore commercial viability – no one’s going to fund a director who doesn’t know how to make money from his movies. But should producers only care about the money? It’s like watching a tightrope walk between artistic vision and commercial success.

Should we expect movies to prioritize art over business? Every decision—casting a star, choosing a release date—is a calculated move to maximize profit. So, where does that leave the notion of a “good movie”? Good is subjective, but box office numbers are hard data. They show how many people paid to watch, but financial success doesn’t always mean cultural impact. Look at Kamal’s films like Virumandi or Hey Ram. They initially underperformed but gained massive acclaim later. Conversely, some box office hits (you probably can’t even remember the names of a few) vanish into obscurity despite their financial triumphs.

And here’s where we, the audience, come in. Our choices are quietly shaping the industry. The rise of pan-India blockbusters? That’s partly on us. The success of unconventional films like Maanagaram? That’s us too. Every ticket we buy, every review we share, every streaming choice we make – it all sends a message about what kind of movies we want to see more of.

But should this make watching movies feel like homework? God, no. At their heart, movies are about stories that move us, characters that stay with us, and moments that take our breath away. The business side? It’s there, but it doesn’t have to dominate our experience.

So, what should we care about? Maybe everything, maybe nothing. It’s all part of the endless tug-of-war between art and commerce. And honestly, isn’t that just another reason to love movies?

Vyas expertly intertwines the messy mix of identity and relationship issues for Arun and Divya as they fall out of love. The movie kicks off with Divya being hesitant to share about how she fell for Arun, following a bunch of charming college romance scenes. The movie then follows this pattern of the duo feeling remorseful about their relationship while away from each other but not so much while together. Divya’s realization and Arun’s resentment build up to a gripping interval where both find out they are lying to each other making us root for a breakup. The second half starts with a breakup scene intensifying the emotional rollercoaster, with phenomenal performances by Manikandan and Sri Gouri Priya.

The arcs of both Arun and Divya, inside and outside the relationship, are brilliantly penned. Vyas showcases how a toxic relationship seeps into everyday life, affecting personal hygiene and influencing major decisions. Insights into Arun’s family drama and Divya’s work culture add depth without justifying their actions. Sri Gouri Priya nails every breakup stage, especially when explaining things to Arun’s mom. And let’s not forget Manikandan – dealing with home drama, career chaos, personal struggles, and post-breakup blues. I haven’t seen such a range of acting on screen in a really long time!

Is this Sean Roldan’s best work till date? I definitely think so. Whether it’s “Usura Uruvi” with Arun trying to make sense of his breakup, “Thaen Sudare” catching the love-hate tango inside Arun and Divya, the adorable “Apple Crumble” as Arun tries to win back Divya after a fight, or my personal favourite, “Velagatha” when Arun tags along with Divya’s friends post-breakup, holding onto that glimmer of hope.

Vyas keeps it real in every aspect of the film. Even in the middle of a heated argument, Divya gets hyped about a pretty moon. Friends goofing off in the background during chaos, Arun’s “Naan saava lam pola” after a super intense scene, and when Arun finally decides to embrace the breakup, his chill tea session with Madan feels like something straight out of real life.

Even after spending the whole movie wanting to dump Arun, the little clingy moment Divya has when they part ways is incredible. In this movie landscape filled with bloodshed and violence, Vyas offers a refreshing take. Here’s hoping more movies like “Lover” steer clear of the brutality porn trend and focus on genuine storytelling.

The film opens with a contrast between two sons and their attitudes toward someone who has suffered defeat. Athiveeran advises his student to keep his head up – Yaaru jeikkaranga nu mukkiyam illa. Yaaru bayapdranga nu than mukkiyam. In contrast, Rathnavelu callously slaughters his dog. Athiveeran, scarred by his father’s silence during his traumatic childhood, becomes someone who never turns a blind eye to injustice. Rathnavelu idolizes his father’s heartless treatment of others, carrying on that legacy. Athiveeran cherishes his pigs, harbouring dreams of them growing wings and soaring across the world. Rathnavelu derives satisfaction from making his dogs participate in races, butchering them, and exploiting them as hunters. This contrasting journey persists until the film’s conclusion, where the sole surviving piglet finds solace in the care of the entire Maamannan family, while Rathnavelu futilely shoots the dogs pursuing him, realizing they persist regardless of his actions. The film masterfully portrays the involvement of different generations and their perceptions of the world.

There is a brief black-and-white flashback that delves into the traumas experienced by Athiveeran and Maamannan – this 10-minute sequence alone is enough for the Vadivelu fan in me to celebrate this beast of an actor on screen. What a performance he delivers! Portraying a character who has achieved great heights yet remains unfulfilled, torn between educating those around him about equality, unable to even sit in front of his party leaders, and managing his defiant son with political maturity – pure class! His desperate cry during a political campaign to make his voice heard is a testament to his prowess. The theater erupted with applause when he kicked his way out of the fight during the interval block. I couldn’t contain my excitement when he pulls out his gun to silence Rathnavelu as he arrogantly prattles on about his pride. Fahad also delivers a stellar performance as the antagonist. Although his character lacks significant development, his portrayal of rage in various situations captivates us throughout the film.

Like his previous works, Mari fills Maamannan with animal symbolism and metaphorical parallels. However, this time it may have veered slightly toward excess. At times, it felt like a time loop of scenes, each reiterating the same message: Athiveeran and Maamannan face oppression, Athiveeran fights back, and Maamannan urges restraint. The scene where Athiveeran takes out his gun in a village seems entirely unnecessary, reminiscent of a misrepresented Chekhov’s gun. The final election victory fails to evoke the sense of triumph for Maamannan, especially considering the immense struggles endured during the campaign. Additionally, Athiveeran’s subsequent dialogue, explaining the metaphor of running dogs that arose in the previous scene, seems to excessively spoon-feed the audience, something that Mari’s very rarely does.

For someone who penned Jothi in Pariyerum Perumal, one of Tamil cinema’s most well-written female characters, witnessing Leela on screen donning the stereotypical checked shirt of a rebellious Tamil cinema heroine was profoundly disappointing. Apart from serving as a contrast, showcasing her fight for equality despite belonging to the same community as Rathnavelu, she fails to contribute substantially to the film. Rahman, with his impeccable timing, orchestrates the highs at the right moments and moves us with Utchanthala in multiple instances. However, the remaining background music and songs fail to make a lasting impression. It led me to ponder whether the choice of Rahman was truly fitting for this subject, especially considering Mari’s meticulousness in every aspect of his films.

I perceive Maamannan through two lenses: as a vehicle for educating the audience about oppression and as a technically proficient piece of art that stands the test of time. However, I wonder if it succeeds in fulfilling both objectives. While the film possesses brilliant frames, parallelisms, and metaphors on paper, I wonder if it overindulges in these elements. Perhaps a more restrained approach, focusing on forging a stronger emotional connection with the audience, could have been more effective. Nevertheless, Maamannan remains an experience that everyone should undertake, even if just for the stellar performances by Vadivelu and Fahad. They truly are legends on the screen!

Nelson also probably had the same question when he had to make this movie. Without finding much answers, he stuck with the usual formula that everyone thinks vijay’s fans enjoy for some reason? Action-Sentiment-Comedy-Romance. He ticked all these boxes in the first 10 mins of the movie, starting with Vijay helping a child out and then accidentally killing it, single handedly defeating all of the terrorists in a foreign territory, sexist and inappropriate jokes about women, psychiatry and PTSD, and then followed by the tomboy girl acting cool with the hero and hero wanting to hold the girl’s iduppu. The movie had everything and every single thing was made in the worst possible way.

I understand movies like Beast are made purely to collect the crores of rupees during the initial 5 days after release but don’t the 100s of talented people who work in movies like this have even an iota of guilt that they’re producing such garbage like this? How did this get through so many levels of quality check up until its release? How did selvaraghavan calling vijay “Indian James Bond” get a go ahead? How is this character even remotely related to james bond? But really have to appreciate both nelson and vijay to re-use his punch dialogue from pokkiri even though it has been heavily trolled ever since its release. That too with the exact same deadpan expression. Takes real guts.

The writing is so forgettable that I had to skim through the movie again in netflix while writing even though I just finished it 30 mins before I started writing. To let us know that the minister is the bad guy, they have him actually call the terrorist group and reiterate his goals of this mission at the very beginning of the movie. This minister is acting like he wants to defeat the terrorists but keeps slipping up which makes the people around him doubt that he’s acting. And apparently it’s impossible to have 2 woman in a movie without them fighting over a guy? There is an actual scene where they just angrily stare at each other. Apparently someone in the middle of the movie said the sentiment quotient is lacking so they made one of the terrorists yearn for his dying son and kill him off by the meaner (?) terrorist later in the movie. How did he even get this job in the first place?

The incoherence in the screenplay was super contagious that its showing up in my writing as well.

It felt as if Anirudh composed a bunch of mass sound bits and handed it over that they just stitched it with the scenes back to back. Characters having a singular expression is one of Nelson’s biggest traits and even that did not work here. The signature deadpan dialogue delivery of Vijay was just plain annoying in every single scene, and this feeling was unrelated of my opinion about Vijay. The lighting and cinematography stood out in some of the action sequences but also got tiring after the 15th fight scene or something. Everything was just plain bad.

Vijay tried to warn us in the trailer itself saying that inime than bayangarama irukkum but we’re the ones who didn’t listen. I know there are mixed feelings about watching a movie with expectations but I actually expected Beast to be decent, even though all good directors making movies with larger than life heroes have proved me wrong in the past. I don’t know if watching this in the theater would have given me a different experience but at least I didn’t lose 120 rubees.

I was so glad I didn’t know Arya was sporting a dual role in this movie. The slow reveal and the confusion it caused was a welcome surprise to me. Maga is a poverty ridden driver who can’t even confront the guys who broke his car’s mirror or the auto driver by the day and a handyman who sketches plans for high profile kidnapping and murders by the night. Muni is a environment conscious farmer and a teacher stuck in in the vines of caste discrimination which makes him question everything around him. Maga is an outright atheist who ridicules anything related to spirituality and Muni has his own definition of God and is trying to recycle the indestructible caste just like plastic. Magamuni is the episode which connects these twins who were separated early in their life and grew up without knowing the existence of each other.

Psychology plays a very significant role in both of Santha Kumar’s movies. His heroes are not society’s definition of normal and a ‘normal’ society puts them off balance. Caste, religion, politics, corruption, everything affects all the characters in the movie. There is a non-corrupt cop who is pulled into corruption in the middle of a police orchestrated murder. There is a mother for whom her child is starting to become a burden and wouldn’t think twice about killing her son or herself if she doesn’t have her husband to support her. There are handymen who work just for money but are also loyal to their boss when they come to know that their boss’s boss is trying to ruin their lives. There are flawed characters all over, with the society also being one of them.

I have been normalised by illogical movies so much that even realistic things like the hero using maps to find his current location and a nearby hospital seems brilliant to me. Muni looks like someone in the 80s by still takes full advantage of the latest technology and resources that he can get his hands on. Despite being vastly different characters, both Maha and Muni have very similar take on education, what we teach the kids and what kind of society they will be growing up in. It’s things like these that made the movie stand out for me.

A character so subtle, something that Arya has never portrayed before, but shines in every aspect of it. The performances were excellent all over. And with Thaman’s music never distracting us from what is going on, you could see feel the work of all the brilliant people working behind the scenes to give us such a complete film.

I kind of feel sad that we have to wait so many years to get good movies like this from amazing directors while Sirutha Siva is spewing his vomit on screen every single year making hundreds of crores of profit. But to watch something like Magamuni, I’d gladly endure 5 more Vivegams.

As described by Ayya and Berlin, Kumararaja has created a beautiful, wonderful and marvelous universe for his films with interlinking characters and themes. In this universe, all bad cops have a phallically named little boys whatsapp group where they share artistic videos with each other, gangsters refer to their handymen as komalis and kids just want their dads no matter what. In it’s core, Super Deluxe is about a bunch of characters questioning their life choices due to an unforeseen circumstance. Vaembu and Mugil change their mind about their failing marriage after a fart induced counseling from a dead body, a kid questions his thinking about porn movie actors after coming to know that his mom is also one, another set of kids have existential thoughts after encountering an alien, faith of a cult leader with his own religion is disrupted by a chance encounter with someone who shatters his core belief and a gender transformed dad made to realise by his wife and kid that the world isn’t so bad after all. With so much duality in all characters in a movie that is trying to say that the universe is a singular entity and connecting these extreme story lines staying true to it’s core is ingenious.

I saw Super Deluxe twice. Once just to enjoy the film as an experience and then again to cater to the film enthusiast in me to look for clues, metaphors and symbolism everywhere and my god what an experience it was! I was having a field day listening to the back story of the hidden diamonds, finding super deluxe easter eggs all over, looking out for alien references, color coding characters, linking intentional primer-qsue editing glitches to time travel, magic event spotting in walls and noticing that the text changes to real life at one particular instance, cat references for characters, running into Vaembu’s ex later in an unrelated scene, ice cream being the closure for every story.. The film is a treasure trove for people like me to analyse the shit out of it.

Though having a lot of ‘messages’ in the film, Super Deluxe isn’t trying to propagate anything to the audience. In fact, it makes us question our core belief about so many things by making it’s character question their own beliefs. And the normalisation of generally alienated things according to ‘tamil culture’ is a much welcome change to the usual morality being portrayed on screen. Getting laughs out of atypical characters and normalising them is a trait that kumararaja has mastered in his craft. Shilpa’s flaw isn’t her gender, but the way she thinks about it in the larger scheme of things. We first laugh at the frustration of the kid at his mom’s ex-profession as a porn actress but then the mom normalises the sitation by saying it’s not that big a deal. The stone that Arputham believed to be his god finally did give him a miracle, which also makes him question his faith. Mugil hates his wife for having an affair but he ends up asking her to do the same thing later to save their lives. As excellently summed up in the end, the movie questions the very definitions of right and wrong and our own core beliefs and morality. No other movie has made me think so much after watching it.

And how great was Yuvan in this! He also blended into Kumararaja’s universe with callbacks to aaranya gaandam at places, excellently remastered sexy Ilayaraja songs fitting aptly to the scenes, Nadhaswaram version of the infamous John William’s star wars theme and nail biting suspenseful music for the intentionally long sexual harassment scenes. It’s incredible how well Yuvan can score given the right platform. He proved this with Peranbu and now with Super Deluxe as well. Along with career best performances from almost everyone on screen, Super Deluxe is a complete package.

Super Deluxe is what you get when true cinema connoisseurs like Thigarajan Kumararaja are given a platform to tell their stories. Pure, unadulterated, raw, non-conforming cinema. With the universe established, now all we can do is watch as Kumararaja unfolds his magnificent stories to us happening in his universe. Super Deluxe asks the answer to the ultimate question of life, universe and everything, and staying true to it’s character, the answer is also hidden in the tag line in one of the movie posters shown in the movie saying ‘Super Deluxe is Life’.

Vasanth is probably not making as many films anymore (I hear his latest ‘Sivaranjaniyum Sila Pengalum’ is magnificent). But I can’t think of another filmmaker who is a master in depicting urban relationships — of mothers and daughters (Srividya and Gauthami in ‘Nee Paathi Naan Paathi’), of fathers and sons (Nagesh and Arjun in ‘Rhythm’) and most importantly, between two grown up adults of the opposite sex. The latter is the focus of this piece and I would like to talk about two relationships (each in a different movie) that move me considerably even today.

‘Keladi Kanmani’ begins with the story of the terminally ill Anu (Anju) falling in love with Sashi (Ramesh Arvind). As a death wish, she decides to reunite her widower dad (ARR, played by SPB) with his old flame (Sharada, played by Raadhika). We strap ourselves and get ready to experience one of the most beautiful romances (between ARR and Sharada) in Tamil (even Indian) Cinema.

Let’s start by ticking off the usual requirements of a romance. They meet-a-cute (zinger alert!). She mistakes him for a petrol bunk employee, a cook, a vegetable seller. They have a duet, the beautiful breathless ‘Mannil Intha Kadhal’. But there is more. Both come from a home with issues. He is a widower and her parents are hearing-and-speech impaired. Both display a great sense of emotional maturity. Moreover, they both posess a rare quality we see on the Tamil screen — acceptance. The most beautiful decision they make is to give up their relationship for the sake of Anu. A lesser movie would have gotten them married or pitted them against each other but here, they let go and move on. It’s almost as in life.

I am a sucker for these kind of romances and Vasanth lit me up once again with ‘Rhythm’. He had taken a bit of a detour since ‘Keladi’ but writing great relationships still remained his forte.  I am talking about the brother-sister relationship between Shanthi Krishna and Suriya in ‘Nerukku Ner’ and father-daughter relationship between Poornam Viswanathan and Suvalakshmi in ‘Aasai’. But with ‘Rhythm’, he really found his groove. The relationship between Karthikeyan (nicely underplayed by Arjun) and Chithra (Meena shedding her cotton-eye candy image) makes a beautiful parallel to the ARR-Sharada relationship in ‘Keladi’.

We still have the romance usuals. She initially rebuffs him, only to warm up to his good nature. The density seeps in slowly. Both lose their spouses in the same tragedy. He lives with his parents and she lives with her adopted child. Both have had career transitions due to different reasons. Finally, both seem to share a warm rapport with their kit and kin (again, very lifelike).

The only difference in ‘Rhythm’ is that Vasanth is a much better filmmaker. It is no accident that the movie features trains (the tragedy involves trains too). Each character remains within an arc be it Vatsala Rajagopal (playing Arjun’s mother) or Lakshmi (playing Meena’s ex-mother-in-law). Except for a couple of mood-killing songs and a little over-the-top performances by Ramesh Arvind and Jyothika (which interestingly prove an apt counterpoint to Arjun and Meena), everything is organic and everything fits. Even scenes with great potential for melodrama are either tossed off with casual humor or an existential sigh. In other words, the movie itself is life like.
ps. Even if you don’t watch ‘Rhythm’ for any of the above reasons, you must do so for Nagesh’s performance (one in his swansong years). Be it smiling mischievously while realizing his son likes Chithra, breaking down when Chithra refuses to marry his son, discussing the tearable appalam or the eventual acceptance of his son’s future, he plays it all looking less like an actor but more like a loving father. Nagesh couldn’t get many recognitions (like the Dadasaheb Phalke) in his lifetime due to a set of legal battles. That doesn’t stop us from realizing he is truly one of the finest actors to have graced the silver screen!

– Sai Vikneshwar

Marana Mass is that glorification song with a foot tapping heavy rhythm. The massive percussion dominates the song with a simple yet ineffective bass guitar progression. The trumpets lift the mood of the song and offer a grand cue to the golden tone of SPB, who surprisingly sings in a far too low register for such a song. Nevertheless, this one slowly grows on you and is exciting. Petta Theme opens with trumpets and sets the mood to an unusual Rajini theme with a Latin spin mixed in an EDM sort of backing. The curiosity of a possibility of multiple layers is well and truly triggered here. I wonder why Rajini speaks one of Mahakavi’s famous lines. A very catchy theme and has a good recall factor to it.

Ilamai Thirumbudhu is that typical Anirudh ballad with an acoustic guitar strumming right through with a simple yet prominent bass. He also uses his formula of having a 4-line hook stanza like his previous songs. However, the strings backing in the verses add a different flavour to this melody. The one to look out for in this song is the interesting flute portions playing behind the already existing layers. I guess his melody template did not work for me as much as he would have liked. Madurai Pettai traps the regional mood by means of the local percussion instruments which instantly helps us to connect with this soundtrack. The nadhaswaram is a delight to listen to and the one aspect missing is a simple progressive melody. Despite that, this track fits perfectly for the theme it represents and is surely going to be playing in all the Pongal promo videos of Sun TV.

Petta Parak is yet another raging theme from the composer, heavily loaded guitar riffs and rhythm and is progressive. The lyric works its magic for this track with references to Rajini’s yesteryear movies. The chorus adds so much energy to this song and the tracks gets a new high in the verse. The second interlude is stunningly done to add more fire to this powerful number and it works brilliantly. Singaar Singh is a beat driven theme with smart choice of instruments making way to a proper guessing game in terms of what the theme has to convey. Though it is short, there is so much space for improvisation and probably it is in all its glory in the score of the film.

Aaha Kalyanam is that happy and exciting wedding song which carries Anthony Dasan’s infectious energy all over. The trumpets add a unique mood to this song. The catchy lyric and the percussions are the highlights of this song. One wonders why there is ‘dubukku’ in this wedding song. Jithu theme has to be the villain’s theme and it is not as imposing as the Singaar Singh theme. The arrangement of the song is interesting because each of the instrument used in a layer cannot be put together unless the mix is perfect. Anirudh has pulled struck the balance with this one.

Ullaallaa is my pick of the album and that is because of the genre in which this song is conceived. It is such a happy song right from its outset. Thanks to Anirudh for adding a intricate pianica layer instead of lending his voice to this one. The outstanding blend of trumpets, guitars and vocals hit the right note in this baila track. Kaali theme opened like a Yanni song and slowly picks up into this brass theme. The brass theme that followed, felt like a VIP upgrade. This chant effect has been a signature of most of Anirudh’s theme hero intro tracks. All the soundtracks in the jukebox are intentionally kept short to hold on to the suspense of the respective characters. Thappad maara is another short track with an exciting arrangement and makes you wonder why it did not go longer. The percussions are in perfect sync with the vocals and gives the feel of a dance number. It must be told that this is a versatile track from the album.

To sum it up, Anirudh has gone out of his usual zone and pulled off a quality album with elements for every music lover to get excited about. One can feel that the expectations for a fantastic background score is created by the album.

– John Francis

Spoilers Ahead..

“Vada Chennai” is divided into chapters and each one is part of a larger jigsaw puzzle that can perhaps never be solved. The best one is titled “Anbu, Rajan and the Hood”. It tells the story of Rajan (Ameer), his brother Thambi (Daniel Balaji) and underlings Guna (Samuthirakani), Senthil (Kishore), Velu (Pawan) and Pazhani (Boxer Dheena). They are smugglers, working for the powerful politician Muthu (Radha Ravi). In a sudden turn of events, Rajan takes a stand for his people, irking Muthu, who plots his fall using Senthil.

The betrayal and (eventual) killing of Rajan is easily one of the best ‘directed’ scenes in Tamil Cinema. It happens in a restaurant. Rajan remains seated but others keep going in and out. We sense fear and cluelessness among the underlings. In fact, the seeds of their future dynamics are sown in this very scene. Never has the washroom mirror gained so much importance. It’s like watching a copy of “Assassination of Julius Caesar” thrust on a real director.

One of the most interesting aspects of “Vada Chennai” is that the Shakespearean references don’t end here. We have the father’s (Rajan’s) ghost driving the son (Anbu (Dhanush)) from “Hamlet”. Rajan and Anbu follow very similar trajectories. Anbu marries Padma (Aishwarya Rajesh) almost in the same way Rajan marries Chandra (Andrea). Anbu stands up for his people the same way Rajan does (and gets into trouble). We even get Chandra remarrying Guna (Gertrude married Claudius in ‘Hamlet’). Finally, we have the witch from “Macbeth” who keeps sprouting predictions for the future.

Vetrimaran mentioned in an interview that all his scripts came out of ‘Vada Chennai’. Since I caught the movie only after knowing this, I started seeing his movies everywhere. Sprinkle a bit of masala in the gangster confrontation scenes and you have ‘Polladhavan’. Change carrom to cockfights and invoke Othello, you have ‘Aadukalam’. Finally, focus the jail scenes on a specific set of victims and you have ‘Visaranai’. Is this the actors? the milieu? the pet-peeves? I am sure there is something more interesting going on with this pack that only Vetrimaaran and his sub-conscious could tell us.

Watching ‘Vada Chennai’ is like watching any epic (I got the same feeling with ‘Sacred Games’ recently) — you can make any character the driving force and yet, the story wouldn’t change much. Take Chandra for instance. When we see her first, all we know is Guna would do anything for her. Later, a remark by Senthil’s wife completely changes our perception. Towards the end, we realize without her, there is no movie. But, wait for this. You could make the same for Muthu. Or Anbu. Or Guna. The writing is so dense (and it’s clearly cleverly written) that I couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t make a series out of it.

However, this density comes with its own flaws. After a point, it’s hard to keep track of the characters and their motivations. That’s really a nit though, considering what the movie has achievement. One grows tired of calling performances as outstanding but that’s how they are in “Vada Chennai”. While we must appreciate Dhanush for adding sunshine to these movies, the movie really belongs to Samudhirakani. He played a somewhat similar role in ‘Subramaniyapuram’ a decade back. It’s astonishing to see how much he has grown as an actor. You only have to look at his indecisiveness (or impotence?) — be it while killing Rajan, or what to do with Anbu and Kannan, how to deal with Senthil and even when finally confronted by Anbu. What a piece of work is this guy!

Finally, one of the complaints my friends had about the movie is its predictability. While this is somewhat inevitable when you are making a trilogy (‘Baahubali’ ended on a high but the second part couldn’t match up to it), I will admit that the form kept me watching. Take the fight scene after the carrom tournament in the jail. It is shot like some kind of macabre dance. Or the chasing scenes around Dhobi Ghat. Or the dance around the widowed Chandra. Or the closing shot, which tells us that the whole story was contained in a tiny region. We don’t know if Vetrimaran is an auteur (yet) but for now, he is a fantastic filmmaker. For now, that’s enough!

– Sai Vikneshwar