Avinash Ramachandran

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.

There has been a legitimate paucity of quality comedy films this year in Tamil cinema. So, when Sakthi Chidambaram, a veteran of this genre, even if his recent films were just a shadow of his form in the mid 2000s, closes the year with Jolly O Gymkhana, a comedy, it is okay to have your hopes up. But the filmmaker starts off by introducing Yogi Babu as Father Martin Luther King, and makes him walk out of the toilet and say lines like “Unakku life problem, enakku piles problem.” You think that is bad? It gets worse with him telling Madonna Sebastian’s Bhavani that he can’t help her sleeping problem because he is suffering from a sitting problem. You think that is worse? Bhavani, who narrates her backstory, says, “Kadhaiyoda moolathulerndhu kelunga (Listen to the story from the core)” and of course, Yogi Babu replies, “Already moolam dhaan ma prachana (My you-know-what is already sore).” And we are just five minutes into Jolly O Gymkhana.

What is it with Telugu cinema and banking fraud? Within the past three weeks, we’ve had Lucky Baskhar, Matka, and now Zebra, which deals with banks, scams, heists, boyish charm, ticking clocks, tension-filled banks, middle class aspirations, and of course, references to Harshad Mehta. But, in a very weird way, all three films are as different as chalk and cheese thanks to the era the films are set in, the stars headlining the films, and the unique treatment. Zebra differs from both these movies despite having banking and scams at the centre of it because director Eashvar Karthic designs a protagonist who does what he does for others and not for individual gains, and most importantly, the adversary isn’t the system, but an individual.