Avinash Ramachandran

Circumstance. When a family is facing a particularly distressing period in their lives, what really matters is their response to the circumstances. Over the years, cinema has often told stories of families that stick together to face whatever comes their way. We have seen the Drishyams, the Koodi Vaazhndhaal Kodi Nanmais, the Kolamaavu Kokilas, the Doctors, and even last week’s release, Blast. Families finding themselves painted into a corner, and doing everything possible to get out of it, is a time-tested template, and yet… director Pandiraaj’s latest, Parimala and Co, does the one thing you shouldn’t do when it comes to making a whodunnit family drama. He makes things… boring.

Choices. A lot about a person can be known by the choices they make. The same holds true for a filmmaker, whose decisions on camera angles, narrative detours, character depth, use of musical cues, and the scenes chosen and left at the editing table prove their mettle. The same holds true for an actor, whose decisions on whether they accept to do a full-fledged role, or a glorified cameo, or an important yet minuscule part, appear in a ‘special’ dance number, or a ‘friendly appearance,’ or play a role that doesn’t add anything anywhere except to the bank balance, decide their worth. But what happens when the Yhprum’s Law is in full force, and almost every choice, despite a few hurdles, ends up for the greater good? You get Subash K Raj’s debut film, Blast, starring Arjun, Abhirami, and Preity Mukhundhan.

Cringe. Gone are the days when the world collectively rejoiced in the celebration of romance with grand gestures and seemingly over-the-top overtures. Now, especially on social media, any such move showcased there for posterity falls into just two categories: Cringe and Cringe-free. This slotting is done by the people witnessing these gestures, overtures, and everything in between. What about the ones who are doing these gestures? Do their hearts still flutter when they see a balloon that is filled with their partner’s carbon dioxide? Do butterflies swarm their stomach when their partner holds their hand, or when they see each other in their favourite dress for the first time? If all of these are as special in 2026 as they were in 1976, then what exactly is cringe? Is it the action or the packaging for an audience who might not necessarily want to witness this action? Even if the packaging isn’t all glossy or wrinkle-free, director Rathna Kumar’s latest film, 29, works because there is a sense of honesty and warmth in these actions, even if some make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Catastrophic. When more than one character uses this word in a spy thriller, you know that it means just one thing: Global destruction. In Manu Anand’s latest, Mr X, we hear it a few times, and every single time, the weight of the destruction-in-wait is clear. The potential attack has the capacity to obliterate an entire State, and since this is a Tamil film, it is the state of Tamil Nadu, which is in danger, and we have our homegrown R&AW agents who do the thankless job of saving the nation. But despite the massive threat of a nuclear attack, personal equations of the agents jeopardising the mission, and a couple of flashbacks too many, Mr X manages to entertain as long as we, just like the makers, don’t take the film too seriously.

Blur. Tamil Nadu is a state that wears its politics and cinema on both its sleeves. From using cinema to amplify their political stance and using politics to shape their cinematic trajectories, many find themselves at the center of this Venn diagram. Whenever one among the many in the center gets the lion’s share of the attention, there comes a satire that is either a scathing commentary on the politics-cinema sphere, or a trend train that aims to milk the cash cow for a satirical spoof that is neither biting nor sardonic. Unfortunately, for all those involved in Umapathy Ramaiah’s TN 2026, the film firmly falls into the latter category.

Vanity. A few years back, business magnate Saravanan decided to be the face of his multi-million-dollar empire. He was plastered across TV ads, in newspapers, and on YouTube. The next ideal step was to take up the political route or don the greasepaint. Saravanan decided to become an actor. And then… he rechristened himself as Legend Saravanan, and made his acting debut with… wait for it… Legend. It was heavily trolled for its content, his performance, and everything else in between. Four years later, Legend Saravanan has come back to collect his dues with Leader, under the aegis of director RS Durai Senthilkumar. He embarks on a path to redemption courtesy a clever director, a compelling script, a convincing ensemble, carefree masala-cinema sensibilities, and, of course, good ol’ money.

Money. In a world that is all about division, money holds the ultimate power to make you breach such hierarchies. Of course, it also results in the decimation of a few age-old structures, but that’s par for the course in a world that doesn’t wait for people to catch up. But is money really the ultimate thing? Does the presence or lack of it really determine your worth in the world? As a character in the debutant filmmaker Sivakumar Murugesan’s film says, “Has any parent refused to take care of their child because they didn’t have the financial resources?” One might think it is a poignant tale of parents and children, and how the world treats the geriatric. In a way, Thaai Kizhavi is definitely that kind of a film, but it is also a film that makes you unabashedly laugh out loud with a consistency that has been missing in Tamil cinema for quite a while.