Avinash Ramachandran

A woman decides to make fun of a man. Honestly, it is all in good faith. However, the man isn’t quite happy about being the butt of collective humour. Honestly, it is okay for the man to get riled up. Now, he decides to beat the woman. And it is not just a push or a shove, but an active beating that leaves her clothes in tatters, lips bleeding, and marks of the assault very visible on her face. Now, the hero sees her in this condition. Plus, she is the heroine of the film. What should the hero do? What can he do when he is the man who beat her up. And we are asked to laugh at the predicament because she is used to being ‘playfully’ beaten up like this, and when asked for an apology, all he can manage is a fart? These are the protagonists of Bala’s Vanangaan, but there’s no need for judging them for this, simply because in the worlds the filmmaker has been creating for 25 years now, this is par for the course. But then, we can’t really move past this either, because Vanangaan tackles the theme of sexual violence against women, and this dichotomy is rather jarring.

From the times of black-and-white, we have often seen a wife act coyly around her husband when sharing the news of their impending pregnancy. There is the bashful eyes, shy demeanour, and lines like the veiled “Now, I have to eat for two people” or the direct “There is a new entrant coming to the family” before breaking into a smile and a hug. In Aashiq Abu’s insanely entertaining Rifle Club, the sassy Sicily tells her husband Avaran, “Bring me the liver of the wild boar you are going to hunt. I heard it is good for pregnant women.” These are the kind of characters that inhabit the world created by Syam Pushkaran, Dileesh Karunakaran and Suhas. Characters who might seem like a weapon-wielding Addams Family to the rest of the world, but within their self-sufficient existence, this is the normal.

There are two important meet-cutes in director N Rajasekhar’s third film, Miss You. One is when aspiring filmmaker Vasu (an effective Siddharth) looks at Subbulakshmi (a terrific Ashika Ranganath) during a protest for the right to wear a hijab. One is when aspiring filmmaker Vasu looks at Subbulakshmi acting all cutesy during a wedding event of a common friend. Both are template scenes that we have gotten used to seeing in innumerable Tamil films. It is a commentary on how our heroes fall in love with heroines only if they are either bold and confident or bubbly and cute. What about the women who are neither bold nor confident, neither bubbly nor cute? That’s exactly what Miss You wanted to talk about, but it has one big problem. Contrary to the film’s protagonist who wanted to tell a love story from the perspective of a woman, Miss You is firmly from the POV of the man.

There can be no debate that the black dhoti and black shirt-wearing Shivarajkumar sitting on a wooden chair placed on an arid land is one of the more iconic images of recent Kannada cinema. It exuded silent power, and as always, the superstar knew that the greatest of style statements lies in its simplicity. The character of Bhairathi Ranagal from Mufti has since attained cult status for showcasing Shivarajkumar in a grounded yet gory avatar that beautifully balanced his stature, stardom, and age. So, when director Narthan, who made Mufti, decided to film a prequel to show the origin of Bhairathi Ranagal in the film titled Bhairathi Ranagal, one couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Five villages — each having its own behaviour, its own problems, professions, and pursuits. It might sound like Black Panther, but we’ll get there later. There is a foreign invasion that threatens to disturb the status quo of the system. There is a hero who wants to do good by his land and his people, and there are external forces that won’t let him do this simple thing that heroes have been doing from time immemorial. There is a Game of Thrones-esque setting, in not just for claiming the top spot, but also in the overall look and feel. There is a timeline jump of almost 1000 years, and the way these two timelines come together is straight out of the SS Rajamouli playbook. Amidst all these familiar tropes lies Siva’s Kanguva that revels in its familiarity, impresses in its visuals, but leaves a lot to be desired in the execution of it all.

A young boy comes to a new city. The city is unkind to him and his mother. He makes a promise that the city will know of his name… soon. A few years later, he goes on to make such a big name that Prime Minister Indira Gandhi is forced to intervene. Then, the antagonists and the system decide to take on the one man who wanted to rule it all. This is the story of KGF. Incidentally, this is also the story of Varun Tej’s latest film, Matka.

It isn’t easy being a film star in India. There is no sense of privacy for a public figure — Everything is criticised, scrutinised, commented upon, and dissected. In a world where your every move has to be carefully calculated, can you actually find a moment of honesty? Can you actually find your own cosy corner that allows you to be what you really want to be? After watching the 80-odd minutes of Netflix’s Nayanthara – Beyond the Fairytale, it is clear that the ‘Lady Superstar’ found her cosy corner at the centre of her world in Vignesh Shivan, and everything in this documentary leads to that moment… That moment where Nayanthara can look into the camera and say, “I feel like I don’t need anything else anymore.”

The first one hour of Nirangal Moondru sets the stage for an epic showdown. The lives of three and a half men meet at a crucial juncture — One needs an answer, one needs a resolution, one needs a reason, and one needs a rational explanation. It is wonderful how every single person’s needs seems to be intertwined with the actions of the others. There is a wonderful build-up to the phenomenon of cause and effect. Even if it all unravels pretty soon, the first hour is fascinating.