Avinash Ramachandran

Ajith Kumar’s Arjun isn’t a “hero” by any stretch of the imagination, especially in the Tamil cinema ecosystem. In fact, if the film wasn’t a gripping action drama, Arjun would have been a certified loser with nothing going for him. In fact, even in this movie, for a really long time, Arjun is never a facilitator of action, but just a responder to the consequence. And that’s what makes it all the more special because it is an action film featuring one of the biggest stars of Tamil cinema, and it features a star stripped of all his stardom… almost. Magizh Thirumeni takes the premise of the 1997 film, Breakdown, and remains largely faithful to the plot, giving it a few necessary changes to suit Indian sensibilities. And the most important change is in the relationship dynamics between Arjun and his wife Kayal (Trisha), which adds gravitas to this equation that drives large portions of the film. The movie starts off by establishing the romance between the couple and the gradual falling out that happens over years of marriage. We are shown glimpses of their journey, right from the first meet-cute to falling heads over heels in love to the first cracks in the relationship, and the seemingly irreparable ones. And point to Magizh and editor NB Srikanth for deciding to tell all these through two beautiful Anirudh Ravichander numbers to ensure the pacing isn’t sacrificed for showcasing the romance part.

Remember TVF breaking into the Hindi web series space during the OTT boom? While not on the similar scale, Nakkalites managed to do that in the Tamil space with their native, relatable, and well-performed sketches that boasted of decent production value, and strong content. Since all rivers in this part of the world have to flow into cinema, many actors from this setup managed to eke out a name for themselves on the big screen too. Now, its director Rajeshwar Kalisamy has come with Kudumbasthan, a film that reflects the ethos of Nakkalites, features actors from Nakkalites, has the same irreverent vibe of Nakkalites, and for what its worth, makes quite an impression.

The title of director Dhinakaran Sivalingam’s debut film Bottle Radha makes its intentions clear. It is about alcohol addiction, and it is about Radhamani, who is an alcoholic. While there is no doubt that the movie trains all its focus firmly on Radhamani and his seemingly never-ending tryst with the bottle, some of the best moments of the film comes in the scenes involving his wife Anjalam. This is also due to the fact that Bottle Radha feels like being an anonymous fly during one of the many meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, and it is the portions involving Anjalam gives the movie a refreshing change of pace. The opening shot of Bottle Radha is a drone shot that captures the expanse of the Chennai city that is not often shown in our films. We see Radhamani creating a ruckus over being admonished for coming drunk to work. Interestingly, the entire opening stretch wonderfully introduces the world of Radhamani, and how despite being around near and dear, the allure of the bottle takes him to unsavoury places. Again, the places he goes to might not seem really dire, but the look on Anjalam’s face when he comes home drunk says a lot more than what pages of dialogues could do. She feels insulted. She feels violated. She feels neglected. She feels distraught. And all that she can do is stand resolutely with tears streaming down her face. But Radhamani doesn’t see any of this because he is blinded by the booze, and when one things leads to another, and he finds himself arrested by the police, Bottle Radha decides to take a different route to tackle the issue of addiction.

What’s cute between a couple heads-over-heels in love might not seem the same for someone sitting on the table next to them in a crowded restaurant. But that’s the beauty of romance, I guess. Gestures that make up a secret language that can be spoken unabashedly and unfiltered in a space that isn’t conducive for romance to grow. It is in the unlikeliest of places that the strongest of romance is brewed between people who are steadfast in their belief that they have found their soulmate. And in the case of the protagonists of Vishnu Varadhan’s Nesippaya, this place is a Portugal prison. But let’s get to it in a minute. First up, the film introduces Akash and Aditi with two contrasting scenes that don’t actually give Nesippaya a romantic vibe. Akash’s Arjun crashes into a school bus, and takes it hostage. Aditi’s Diya is arrested in Portugal for the murder of the rich heir of an Indian businessman based out of the European country. And then, we piece together the reason behind this Portugal sojourn while the narrative crisscrosses between this story and the love story of Arjun and Diya. It is love at first sight for Arjun as he literally turns the spotlight on Diya as she dances her way into his heart. One might argue it is just an infatuation, but from time immemorial, Tamil cinema heroes have often confused crush and infatuation with love, and convinced the audience that they were seeing epic love stories unfold. But let’s get to it in a minute.

Romcoms are all about the first time the leads meet. In 99 cases out of 100, we know what is going to happen to the leads when they cross paths for the first time. Whatever might happen between the first time they meet, and the closing credits start to roll, we know how their stories would end. So, why does this genre still have that allure? There is a joy in vicariously living a happily ever after through the lives of others, right? In Kiruthiga Udhayanidhi’s Kadhalikka Neramillai, these others are Shriya (Nithya Menen) and Siddharth (Ravi Mohan), and it is their story that we follow through different cities, different lives, and different timelines before it ends up like all good romcoms end up as… flawed, familiar, and frabjous. While Kadhalikka Neramillai definitely has the beats of staple Hollywood romcoms of the 90s and 00s, it has its antecedents in an even older Tamil film… K Bhagyaraj’s Mouna Geethangal (1981). In fact, this is an urban and updated version of the 44-year-old film, and there are enough upgrades in Kadhalikka Neramillai to make it more of a hat-tip rather than a full-blown remake. And each of these upgrades work perfectly in sync with the theme and treatment of the movie. Siddharth hates kids, but he loves the idea of romance. Shriya loves kids, and loves the idea of romance. And in between, there is Nirupama (TJ Bhanu), who loves the idea of romance and marriage, and is open to the idea of kids and a family.

No one in Telugu cinema loves playing the saviour as much as Nandamuri Balakrishna. The more grave the injustice, the more weapons he can wield, the more henchmen he can kill, and the more noise his dialogues can make. Probably why he feels most at home in a Boyapati Srinu film which allows him to be all this and much more. In Bobby Kolli’s latest, Daaku Maharaaj, Balakrishna is a do-gooder with a strong emotional core. He is a doting guardian of a young girl who seems to effortlessly put a smile on his face. And yes, he is also a saviour who saves an entire district from brutal oppression, wields fascinating weapons, kills hundreds of henchmen in innovatively gory ways, and says lines like, “If you shout, it is barking… if I shout…” and Thaman inserts a lion’s roar in the background score. Daaku Maharaaj is the quintessential Balakrishna film, but it is burdened by the hangover of a number of films including Rajinikanth’s Jailer, Kamal Haasan’s Vikram, and the ‘God of Masses’ own filmography.

When one looks at films that are over a decade old, it is but natural to see if it has aged well. Are the dialogues still relevant? Is the narrative still fresh? Have the actors and filmmaker evolved? In fact, many a time, it takes us back to the time we first saw it, and our response to it today is a reflection of our own evolution. But what if it is a movie that you never saw, and you are watching it for the first time a decade after it was made. What if it is a movie that no one saw because it didn’t release when it had to, and is finally hitting the screens 12 years later? Do you see it as a 2013 film? Do you see it as a 2025 film? That is the conundrum one finds themselves in while watching Sundar C’s long-delayed Madha Gaja Raja, which was supposed to hit screens for Pongal 2013, but a time traveler moved a chair somewhere in the past, and it saw the light of day for Pongal 2025.

When one looks at Shankar’s filmography, it is interesting how his mind doesn’t gravitate towards the easiest way to elevate the hero. Almost all of his leading men could have been typical straightforward police officers who take on the system. But instead, he makes them a small-time entrepreneur moonlighting as a Robin Hood, a young lover fighting for his love, an old revolutionary who wants to eradicate corruption, a journalist who becomes the chief minister, an NRI who returns to his homeland to weed out societal ills, and even a robot. But never a cop.