Kirubhakar Purushothaman

There is an old couple in Maaman played by Rajkiran and Viji Chandrasekar. His name is Singarayar and hers is Pavun. Their subplot has no bearing on the central conflict (which itself doesn’t seem to find closure), but this digression is intended to draw a parallel between their relationship and that of the lead couple Inba (Soori) and Reka (Aishwarya Lekshmi). It’s a rural attempt at recreating Ganapathy Iyer (Prakash Raj) and Bhavani Ganapathy (Leela Samson) from Mani Ratnam’s OK Kanmani. If you’ve followed Tamil cinema since the late ’90s, you’ll know exactly how this relationship will play out—down to its morbid end. A running, friendly tussle between them is that Singarayar only buys her flowers but doesn’t braid them into her hair himself. The emotional payoff is designed to move you to tears, and if it does, Maaman will strike many such chords throughout. If it doesn’t—and you squirm at the melodrama—the film will feel like a bundle of clichés.

DD film series has a tested template. It starts with a prologue about a haunted place and moves to a first half that deals with the romance of the lead pair and their arrival at the place of horror and finally, the third act of horror-comedy cocktail. DD Next Level, the costliest of the series, is a bit more interesting despite following the template to a large extent. Adding a meta layer to the template has made a huge difference to the worn-out horror-comedy genre. However, the novelty runs out of steam pretty soon as the filmmakers run out of ideas in the second half, resorting to the usual antics of the genre.

Tourist Family is the kind of film that relies immensely on creating beautiful moments. There isn’t much in terms of the story in such dramas. With Tourist Family, the trailer pretty much revealed all of it, which is about a family of illegal immigrants from Sri Lanka trying to find a home in Chennai, while the police are on their tail to pin a small bomb blast on them. As a story, Tourist Family has a lot of potential for a misstep given the sensitivity of the subject of Sri Lankan civil conflicts. However, debutant Abishan Jeevinth carefully avoids the mines and lands on brilliant emotional notes. The volatility of the film’s subject is never felt as its tone and nature are too affable. We tend to forget the logistics, logic, and the plausibility of the events as the film and its characters are too heartwarming. Tourist Family appeals to the heart more than the brain, and it wins you over.

Retro is Karthik Subbaraj’s intent to make a campy film that aims to bring back a unique flavour of Indian cinema, which was heavily influenced by the likes of Enter The Dragon. It is particularly amusing how Karthik has attempted to use the tropes of the Blaxploitation genre in an Indian setting that hits out at colonialism. He first did it with Jigarthanda Double X, which is Karthick’s tryst with Westerns. He has done it again with Retro, which is his tryst with the 90s martial arts film. Like how Hollywood westerns had an influence on Indian films, the likes of such martial arts action films also made an impression on our filmmakers. However, the former style is more pronounced in our pop culture than the latter. It could be the reason that Retro doesn’t make the same impact as Jigarthanda Double X. Here, Karthik is lost in finding the distinct texture which is elusive for him.

There’s an explanation for the weird title Gangers when a character wonders isn’t ‘Gangster’ the right term to use. Vadivelu as Singaram goes, “That’s an old term. This is for a change." Thus, the title ends up being the unique thing about Gangers, which is a reiteration of many such comedy dramas of Tamil. It isn’t unusual that Sundar C has stuck to a template yet again with Gangers. But the problem here is that the film has nothing else going for itself other than the template. Scenes cruise through checking all the usual boxes, following all the cliches with complete nonchalance, revealing a half-hearted effort in the writing and direction. The expectations, if any, about the collaboration of the hit duo Sundar C and Vadivelu after years, quickly turn into disappointments as the duo fails to recreate their past glory.

Alappuzha Gymkhana is about a bunch of small-town boys trying to become boxers. But the brilliance of director Khalid Rahman’s writing lies in the fact that the film is not actually about boxing. Jojo Johnson (Naslen), Shifas Ahammed (Sandeep Pradeep), Shifas Ali (Franco Francis), and David John (Habish Rahman) are teens from Alappuzha Gymkhana who have just discovered they haven’t cleared their board exams. This doesn’t come as a surprise to them—they seem to know their limitations. Jojo, the driving force of the group, convinces his friends that becoming boxers might help them gain college admissions, given that academics clearly aren’t their strength. But the real motivator seems to be their bruised egos. What begins as an impulsive decision gradually turns into something life-changing when the group enters a state-level tournament.

The impact of Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects is so enormous and timeless that even after three decades, filmmakers are unable to escape its influence on heist thrillers. Bazooka is another attempt at creating an elusive character like Keyser Soze. The catch is that such an attempt requires several things to fall into place, including clever casting that throws the audience off track and creates red herrings. Director Deeno Dennis misses out on this, leading to a predictable twist that’s visible from the get-go. The genius of The Usual Suspects lies in how the characters become real—everyone involved in the heist has something at stake, making their downfall feel impactful. Bazooka, on the other hand, lacks any real conflict. By the end of the film, when the motive behind the gamer villain is revealed, it feels like we’ve been played by the makers.

Good Bad Ugly once again reiterates that Adhik Ravichandran is perhaps the most campy filmmaker in Tamil cinema today. His eccentric ideas and characters make him one of the most unique voices in the mainstream commercial space, where creative sparks have been dwindling. Sengal Psycho from Trisha Illena Nayanthara, Switch Psycho from Anbanavan Adangadhavan Asaradhavan, and Chiranjeevi from Mark Antony embody the eccentricity that defines Adhik’s sensibilities. For those who can tap into the madness in such writing, the uniqueness of this director, despite its waywardness, becomes thoroughly enjoyable.