Aditya Shrikrishna

Here’s a social experiment. Pick someone who is unaware of the beats of the hero worship and masala film in Indian cinema. Scratch that. Let’s pick Tamil cinema because the beast is almost unrecognisable at this point as the concept of stardom is nearing, if not an end, at least a lull. Ageing male stars fall back on their history, and idolising filmmakers lean on intertextuality to create hysterical theatrical moments. Show them Adhik Ravichandran’s new film with Ajith Kumar, Good Bad Ugly, and ask if there is any possibility that this is a spoof or a parody. They will most likely answer in the affirmative. To the innocent bystander, Good Bad Ugly comes across as a spoof, as if CS Amudhan made another Thamizh Padam (2010) solely focusing on Ajith and his career. The greatest trick Adhik ever pulled is convincing Ajith and maybe the audience that he is making a fan service film. What he’s really done instead is lampoon the star for two hours and twenty minutes. But again, it really depends on who you ask.

It’s been over two decades since Aayutha Ezhuthu and we once again have Madhavan and Siddharth locked in an intense struggle right in the heart of Chennai. Not far from each other either. If it was Napier Bridge in the 2004 Mani Ratnam film, it is a stone’s throw away at Chepauk in S Sashikanth’s directorial debut Test (a Netflix release). If it was political and ideological in the earlier film, it is emotional and personal in this one. Siddharth is Arjun here as well — not a confused young man eyeing the American dream but a patriot wearing India’s Test cricket whites, a star batsman, the kind whose class is evident even if he is on his last legs. Twenty years on, a star cricketer from Tamil Nadu playing for India isn’t as implausible. But India playing Pakistan at home in test cricket? That stuff can happen only in fiction in 2025. And Madhavan here is Saravanan, a washed-up tragic scientist, an eternal striver as deep in insecurities as he is in debt.

In the Lucifer universe, created and written by Murali Gopy and directed by Prithviraj Sukumaran, one of the most exciting characters is Baiju Santhosh’s Murukan. A party worker and spy as well as a stand-in for occasional outsider commentary, his quips and nonchalance offer breathing space in the two films that otherwise are busy and eventful. In the sequel, L2: Empuraan, he lists a three-point spiel to accompany a tertiary character’s ascendance. It is momentous, funny and pointed, and has little to do with either Mohanlal or Prithviraj, the pair that forms the pivot for this film, but that is also why it is joyous and spellbinding within the larger philosophy contained in the story. A quickfire lesson in politicking dispensed with ease. The rest of L2: Empuraan is not as lean. It is packed with backstories and details, with word pairs that sound like they were picked from a raffle, like God Axis and Shen Triad. Mohanlal’s Stephen Nedumpally aka Khureshi Ab’raam teleports and levitates. One day he is in Iraq, another day he is somewhere in central Africa. And a few minutes later he is in a developed country in the west. And then makes a grand appearance in Nedumpally, Kerala.

Two Malayalam films that world premiered at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala in December 2024 share DNA despite employing different milieu and techniques. Fasil Muhammed’s Feminichi Fathima (also screened at the 14th Indian Film Festival of Bhubaneswar) is about the eponymous Muslim housewife in Ponnani in Malappuram and possesses a day-in-the-life narrative. Sivaranjini’s Victoria designs a single day as a series of single takes in the life of Victoria, a beautician at a parlor in Angamaly who is juggling a characteristically busy day at the office and a tenuous period in her personal life. The two films have little in common in terms of setting and visual grammar, but they share philosophies and wrestle with the politics of survival and existence. They focus on women’s labor, the physical strain on their bodies, and the casually developing solidarity with the women around them.

Two Malayalam films that world premiered at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala in December 2024 share DNA despite employing different milieu and techniques. Fasil Muhammed’s Feminichi Fathima (also screened at the 14th Indian Film Festival of Bhubaneswar) is about the eponymous Muslim housewife in Ponnani in Malappuram and possesses a day-in-the-life narrative. Sivaranjini’s Victoria designs a single day as a series of single takes in the life of Victoria, a beautician at a parlor in Angamaly who is juggling a characteristically busy day at the office and a tenuous period in her personal life.

At least two Tamil films that released in 1988 get a namedrop in the second season of Suzhal: The Vortex. They are Senthoora Poove and Agni Natchathiram. One is about a dying man who makes it his mission to save two young star-crossed lovers, which is a throwback to season one of Suzhal that unfolds around the death of one such pair. The second film is about parents and children, warts and all, which points to a theme in Suzhal’s second season— about father and mother figures, and their adopted sons and daughters. At the centre is the father, pointedly named Chellappa (Lal), a criminal lawyer known for his righteousness and sincerity, a darling of victims and survivors. There is also a mother with a fleeting appearance but otherworldly deeds and influence. It is a curious thing, those namedrops—one vaguely referring to a dance troupe named Senthoora Poove and the other directly invoking Mani Ratnam’s Agni Natchathiram and its unforgettable climax of strobe lights waltz. Later, the series invokes another 1988 Tamil film title.

The Dhanush signature is all over Nilavuku En Mel Ennadi Kobam (NEEK). Usually one would find the writer and director’s stamp in their film but, with NEEK, it is a little extra. As an actor and a star, it is not just Dhanush’s artistic preoccupations that show up on the screen but also his favourite themes and persona, pet peeves and theories along with the usual homages that follow every big Tamil star. The writing on the wall is stark because we don’t see Dhanush on screen, but we see it in the writing, we hear it in the sound, we identify it in the intonations, and we get all the references. As people pointed out, the main lead is named Prabhu (Dhanush’s birth name), and he is a chef (what Dhanush wanted to become). In the final scene, just before the writer-director credits appear, Rajesh (a fun Mathew Thomas) is holding a ukulele and playing ‘Rowdy Baby’.

In Chandoo Mondeti’s Thandel, distance makes romance sing harder before it combusts into a residue of tears. Raju (Naga Chaitanya) and Satya (Sai Pallavi) have been together since childhood and now their love blossoms through the stray mobile tower. Raju is a seafarer, a fisherman who works the waters around Gujarat while Satya in Srikakulam looks longingly at her mobile phone to hear a syllable in his voice. He holds the phone aloft and so does she at home. He, with ocean on all sides and, she, on land but not far from the beach. We see a fisherfolk community that toils in the waters, the men away for long and the women waiting and working at home. We know that this frequent separation will not end well and as expected, Thandel doesn’t hold its cards too close to its chest. It presents everything without a facade. Raju is our regular Telugu film hero, and this is as mainstream as it gets so he is introduced romancing and fighting at the same time. The first half coasts along and nothing really happens for much of Thandel’s runtime. Physical distance gives way to emotional distance between the lovers but the way the film narrativises these events is toothless. The film places itself in melodramatic territory, the star-crossed lovers’ separation is the whole point, but the writing is flat and we never feel for any of these people. Apart from Sai Pallavi, everyone and everything is artificial including the filmmaking. It is probably forgivable to use a green screen for scenes atop a lighthouse, but Satya is staged in front of what looks like a green screen even for a scene on the terrace of her tiny dwelling. The film looks cheap and when even basic scenes are given this little attention then what to make of stormy seas where there are both fights as well as lifesaving action.