Subha J Rao

There’s an oft-repeated phrase people use after watching certain films — it is “slow.” I didn’t understand it then, I don’t understand it now. Labels help no one. Does life move in real time or at an accelerated pace? The issue of pacing strikes the audience only when they aren’t drawn into the world the director and storyteller have created. Agnyathavasi (translation: ‘a person in exile’) is a film that insists it will breathe — and wants you to breathe with it. Editor Bharath MC works his charm here. Which is why, despite generally steering clear of thrillers and jump scares, I was drawn into the film’s world — gently, like the fog and the mist of Malnad, where the story is set. The thrills here stem not from the certainty of geography, the reliance on camera angles, or music cues — though Charan Raj’s score is fabulous — but from the possibilities of the human mind.

For those who, in the flush of their youth in the early 2000s, in Tamil Nadu, life was coloured by many movies starring Vikram, but most notably Dhill (2001), Gemini (2002), Dhool (2003) and Saamy (2003). He had many hits post those too, but they all demanded so much of him physically — he gained weight, he lost weight, prosthetics were called in — we rarely got to see the performer in him shine without a crutch. We hardly got to see his shy smile or just be part of the universe created by a director, without drawing any attention to himself. Thaandavam (2012) and Mahaan (2022) were rare exceptions. The audience had to wait till 2025 to see vintage Vikram or the people’s much-loved Chiyaan back on the big screen. As Kaali in SU Arun Kumar’s Veera Dheera Sooran: Part 2, Vikram makes time stand still, and you can also see the film as a continuation of the works he greenlit in the 2000s. There’s action - yes, there’s love - yes, there’s sentiment - yes, but there’s also that lovely thing missing in most films — a hero who is part of the ambience, a hero who prefers lurking in the shadows, a hero who shies away from the spotlight. Cinematographer Theni Eswar lights and frames these dark spaces beautifully, considering most of the film takes place at night.

Many a time in Sumanth Bhat’s Mithya, conditioned by today’s happenings and a generally unsafe world, the stomach knots up with uncertainty, wondering what would befall a child that seems to trust adults. You heave a sigh of relief, only to realise that the child can still be injured through other means — what he hears and how he’s treated — especially when he’s too young to remember it all, but also too old to forgetfully. Snatches of these conversations linger and play on in his head like scabs being yanked off.

In his short lifetime of 38 years (1882-1921), Subramania Bharati left an indelible mark on Tamil society. His rousing poetry and prose introduced many to the concepts of patriotism and female emancipation, and enhanced them in those who already possessed it. His love for the country, and towards his Parasakthi, the divine feminine are well-known. The nimirndha nannadai (graceful walk with head held high) and nerkonda paarvai (straightforward vision) he visualised women to possess still serve as an inspiration to some and an aspiration for others. Despite multiple readings of Bharati’s life over the ages, there’s still scope to analyse the various facets of his life. And, that’s what the film Shaktidasan (devotee of Shakti), by director Usha Rajeshwari sets out to do.

It takes a certain kind of courage to write a one-note film and pack it with well-choreographed action set pieces without any of the trappings (barring an item number, sigh!) of a film where the hero is the saviour. For instance, the traditional mother sentiment is turned on its head — with the mother (Sudha Belawadi) telling others that the families of those in the police force should be brave — and there’s no romance angle that diverts the hero from his grand goal. This is one of the main reasons the film races past at a spiff two hours and 13 minutes. But what debut director Vijay Karthikeyaa has with him is an action star of Sudeep’s calibre. This is the kind of role Sudeep can do with his eyes closed — show brawn, fight, and casually spread his charisma around. And, he delights his core fan base with this film where he does all the things they’ve come to expect of him — kickass action, punch dialogues and a certain swagger that, strangely, comes effortlessly to someone also capable of deep nuance and sensitivity.

Cinema as a medium commands and deserves respect, both from its audience and those who work in it, especially directors and actors. So, how does one review a film where the hero and director are the same person, and when both work in tandem to leave you with a confused set of images that lead nowhere. What if they rest on past glories, justified or not, and leave you with problematic imagery and dialogues that leave your head spinning, and make you so want to say, ‘Boss, idhu 2024. 1980s alla’.

There’s a Bengaluru that has slowly been invisibilised in pop culture. It’s almost like they’d like you to believe India’s Silicon Valley is all about skyscrapers and pubs, people with laptops waltzing into swanky hotels and coffee shops, and health-conscious folks ordering flour from chakkis. But, there’s another Bengaluru, the one that was once the mainstream and is now the outlier — made up of locals and migrant workforce, all of whom fall under the broad category of the middle class — whose members walk hesitantly into star hotels, drink happily in open-to-the-sky bars, who stand in a queue to grind flour in a machine, and who struggle to pay their loans on time, every single month. The kind of people who wear unbranded inner garments and smell of sweat, as a character in Maryade Prashne says. The only thing they have for themselves is maryade or self-respect. What does one do when that is questioned? When intent is rubbished? That’s what Nagaraj Somayaji’s taut two-hour-long Maryade Prashne is all about.

The trick with a prequel is that you have to impress viewers who have watched the original film, and those who are new to its cinematic world. So, first, a round of congratulations to director Narthan, who charmed in 2017 with his debut Mufti, and now with its prequel Bhairathi Ranagal, starring Shiva Rajkumar, Rahul Bose, Rukmini Vasanth and Chhaya Singh, among others.