Kirubhakar Purushothaman

Identity sets off as a film about Haran Shankar (Tovino Thomas), a boy with an abusive father, who turns him into a perfectionist with obsessive-compulsive disorder. As we expect the film to be about this eccentric personality solving cases, we are thrown into a story of a serial rapist, who blackmails his victims with videos of the crimes. When we think it is going to be about nabbing this criminal, he gets killed by an unknown person (we instantly know who it is). Alisha (Trisha), the witness of the crime, gets a peculiar disease called Prosopagnosia aka face blindness, due to an accident right after witnessing the murder, which renders her incapable of recognising faces. Now, we settle for a concept film about this person with face blindness trying to identify the killer with the help of Haran, who also happens to be a good sketch artist (thanks to his mom). But no. Identity is neither that. It keeps turning into a different film every 20 minutes. You have a gripping flight sequence where Haran tries to stop a collision. Later, we also get an enjoyable Bondish fight sequence in a private jet. Clearly, Identity has an identity crisis.

Shankar has an unrelenting confidence in his socio-political conscience, and he seems to be constantly bothered about the ills around him. Nothing else explains his grip on the anti-corruption ideas, which fuels most of his films. After the disastrous Indian 2, Shankar’s Game Changer, starring Ram Charan, is another addition to his list of political films. The filmmaker not only holds onto his politics in Game Changer but also strongly believes in the old-school commercial entertainer where the film breaks to a song every twenty minutes. In a sense, this familiar screenplay formula works in the favour of Game Changer as you know what to expect from the film at any given point. It doesn’t pretend to be anything more than what it is. Hence, there is no room for disappointment with Game Changer. That said, Game Changer, at the end of the day, is a dated film that would have probably been fresh a decade back.

Vetri Maaran’s Viduthalai Part 1, told from the perspective of a new police constable Kumaresan (Soori), posted in a rural hillside Tamil Nadu village, explored the story of an extremist organisation named Makkal Padai and its head Perumal Vaathiyar (Vijay Sethupathi). Makkal Padai has a history, but when we entered the world in the first part, the conflict was immediate as the terrorist organisation had just bombed a passenger train killing and injuring several lives. The premise answered both ‘why and why now’ of the film’s existence. It ended with the arrest of Vaathiyar, aided by Kumaresan, who is on the brink of getting disillusioned with the government’s propaganda against the organisation. The effective first part left us with many questions about Vaathiyar and how it will affect Kumaresan.

Sarathkumar tasted great success playing a moody cop in the commercially and critically acclaimed Por Thozhil (2023). Since then he has been trying to emulate its success in vain. Smile Man, his 150th film, is another such attempt, in which the actor yet again plays a brooding CBCID office grappling with Alzheimer’s disease, who is also on a hunt for a serial killer, notoriously known as Smile Man. Like most serial killer films in Tamil, Smile Man also suffers from the usual problems of convenient writing, cliches, and redundant flashbacks. Honestly, the film kicks off on a promising note. The epilogue has Chidhamabaram (Sarathkumar) chasing the serial killer only to get bashed by him after a near-fatal accident. The unknown killer swears to come back if Chidhambaram chooses to show up again as a cop. Meanwhile, we learn that Chidambaram’s partner (Sunil Menon), who is currently missing, has closed the Smile Man case, claiming that the serial killer was shot dead. Yet, in the present day, the murder starts to happen again. Bodies of victims with skin carved out to make a smiling face (the modus operandi of the killer) are found in the city, and Chidhambaram, despite his health condition, joins the force again to finish what he had started years ago.

Thambi Ramiah’s role in Thiru. Manickam is the best example to tell what is wrong with the movie. He plays the role of an NRI from the UK, who happens to travel with Manickam (Samuthirakani), who is on a mission to do the right thing when the whole world is against him. Remember MR Radha from Ratha Kaneer (1954), a snobbish foreign return, who disses everything Indian? Thambi Ramaiah channels this outdated acting style for Thiru.Manickam. He lacks the philosophical depth MR Radha had even for the caricature of the role, but Ramaiah is an eyesore who just has emulated the exaggerations. When working abroad has become commonplace in 2024, the film is stuck in some distant past where such NRIs are still treated as a rare breed. Take the scene where Ramiah gloats a ‘foreign chocolate’ on the face of a small kid. That’s the nature of the entire film. It brims with outdated tropes, characters, and execution.

Debutant director Mohanlal has been hung up on the 3D element of Barroz: Guardian of Treasures. So much so that every other aspect of the film has gotten little to no attention. Even Mohanlal, the incredible performer, is absent as everything about Barroz comes across as a stage play captured on camera. The only focus of the team has been to come up with various ways to gloat the 3D elements of the film on the face of the viewer. A flower bouquet will get an unnecessary slow-motion shot as Barroz extends it to Isabell (Maya Rao). The idea is to impress the audience as the flowers extend outside the screen, but even children (who seem to be the target audience of the film) lose interest as such gimmicks become redundant. Beyond the brilliant execution of the 3D technology and the superlative production design, Barroz has little to offer concerning an engaging story.

The story of Kanguva has a lot of similarities with SS Rajamouli’s Magadheera (2009), which laid the foundation for the Telugu icon to make Baahubali: The Beginning. The Ram Charan-starrer is about a street bike race, who realises that he is a reincarnation of an ancient warrior who couldn’t join hands with his love of life. He meets her again in the new life, but the villain of yore is also born again. So, the old scores get settled in an entertaining watch. In Kanguva, the romance gets replaced by a father-son bond only that the son and the father are not related by blood but much stronger drama.

By now, plasticity has become a sort of director Karthick Naren’s style. A sense of juvenility creeps in with the premise and setups of the director, despite a fairly decent execution and technical competence. A sample of such contrived writing comes even at the beginning of the first act when one of the protagonists, Sri (Dushyanth Jayaprakash), argues with his parents to let him own a mobile phone. The deliberation to establish that the character doesn’t have a cell phone is to thwart the audience from finding any logical loopholes. The problem with such writing renders Nirangal Moondru staged and artificial, distancing the audience from the characters and their stakes.