Tag Archives: movies

Saguni – will turn in his grave

(Lack of) Direction: Shankar Dayal (Sharma – as Kalaignar TV just called him)

Featuring: Karthi, Santhanam, Pranitha, Prakash Raj, Nasser, Roja, Radhika, Kiran, Kota Srinivasa Rao mattrum palar

Political thriller (was it?)

Our politics begins and ends with electoral politics. So, Boopathi is a cruel-mindless-evil politician (played rather convincingly by Prakash Raj) who doesn’t think twice about murder, theft, inducing riots or even wickedly eliminating competition. There is no good side to him. He is evil and is going to ruin Tamilnadu for his personal benefit.

One victim of this politician’s pursuit of personal benefit is Kamalakannan (Karthi, the hero) who wants to retain *his* property and stall the construction of an underground subway/ underpass. There is an explanation about how he has been wronged. But in essence, this is the *struggle* of a man who refuses to let go of his *personal property* for infrastructure development of the state.

From there, he uses his brains, sends Santhaanam to jail, manipulates a saamiyaar, starts wearing glasses, becomes a *king maker* and establishes the *right* rule *for the people*.

Common man at politicians’ mercy

Like every other political film that Tamil cinema makes (Dhool, Ko etc. being examples), the common man (of course not the hero, you dud) is always at the mercy of these high and mighty politicians. Saguni, being the story of a *king maker* only accentuates the lack of public participation in *king making*. With this being very close to real life, I don’t know if it (the realistic representation in the film, I mean) is a good thing or bad.

Women power

This is the most bothersome part of the film for me (it is a feminist’s blog. What exactly were you expecting?) The film has unnecessarily many female characters – but I am going to bring up each of them and discuss (of course).

The eye candy lot

There is Sridevi (the hero is named Kamal, you see?) who dances in foreign locations, looks pretty, uses the hero to protect her against miscreants but later ignores him on instructions of her mother. We could have done without her. But you see, the film is all talk about her (love) – so one number heroine has to be shoved on us. And on the hero in the last scene.

Then there is Anushka and Andrea just to hype up our hero (Oh-my-god-he-is-so-desirable)! Even Rajini Appadurai (Santhaanam, as you’d have guessed) has a *jodi* who ignores him when he is a driver but is impressed with him when he becomes the Mayor’s PA (the job that he got on the recommendation of Kamal who has the Mayor on speed dial. There is no hint that he is even qualified for the job. Anyway, the woman isn’t looking for any such thing, is she now?)

The family lot

The atthai (Roja) is a selfish woman who takes her share of property and leaves for the city when the others in her family are giving away everything they have for *feeding* the poor. She uses her nephew (?) as a driver and throws him out when the job is done.

Devadharshini appears in one scene and weeps for the death of her parents (though plays no role in avenging or even seeking justice for it).

Then the political lot

There is this role played by Kiran – an ambitious woman who wants to make it big in politics. She is dressed in sexy sarees and appears as Boopathi’s set up. She displays no intelligence, finesse, political ability or even just independent thinking. She is Boopathi’s puppet, just sometimes being an annoying woman who could be eliminated (which Boopathi attempts later in the film).

There is Ramani Akka (so much for Radhika playing this role) who goes from idli kadai to kandhu vaddi vasool rani to Mayor. If you’re convinced that is a common woman’s guide to an empire, hear me out. She makes no decision on her own – she is asked to contest in elections by Kamalakannan and she does so. He plans her election campaign and gives her the *out-of-the-box idea* of distributing cricket bats to voters’ children (as bribe, of course). He stops her while she is about to withdraw her candidature in return for money. She is also a puppet. She is mightier because she is the hero’s puppet. That is all. Kamal, however, goes as far as to use her for his personal benefit (of saving his house, #youremember). She becomes the Mayor because the Mayorship this tenure is *reserved* for a *woman* and she is the only woman councillor in Chennai. She implements his plans to demolish the property that may belong to the CM. So on and so forth.

In short

~      The first half is unnecessary – so is most of the second half.

~      There is no logic to most of what happens in the film nor there is any meaning.

~      Santhanam is funny – Karthi not so much (there is a scene where he says “thanni, kanni, su….” and waits only to complete that with soodhu. Sigh).

~      (Personal) good wins over evil

~      People dump money on Saamiyaars even if they were sitting around smoking beedi

~      Political thriller, my foot!

Further reading

I hear from people very often that my reviews tend to be biased and (unreasonably) negative. So, I’ve decided to also put up some links from other reviewers. Here are some other reviews I read today. Will update when blog reviews come up.

Pavithra Srinivasan – Rediff

Bharadwaj Rangan – The Hindu

Romal M Singh – DNA (positive review. lol)

Muppozhudhum un Karpanaigal – Delusional

Muppozhudhum un Karpanaigal is a horrible mishmash of a psycho thriller, romantic comedy and a sentimental mother-son drama.Having said that, I have to explain!

Opening scene

 Atharva jumps off a wall wearing a hooded jacket and terrible makeup. He almost reminds us of Kandasamy and then we suddenly realise that Kandasamy was in fact better than this (if that is even possible). With a sharp device with a handle (perhaps, meant to be a stylish knife), he tries to kill two men who are very evidently utilising some skimpily clad women for their pleasure. They drive off in their car and then the opening credits roll. If you haven’t already left the theatre, I’m sorry for you (as much as I am about myself now).

 Story and something to that effect

Ram, played rather uncomfortably by Atharva) is this handsome hunk working in a software company in Chennai where he has this other skimpily clad woman chasing him around to “love” her. She changes the “network password” and therefore no one can do his or her work in this “software company”. Atharva asks her to login with the changed password on his Mac and she refuses to do it unless he kisses her OR says ‘I love you’. He, however, refuses to do so because he is committed to this girl in Bangalore. He talks of her and says, “Oru moonu nimisham ava kitta pesi paaru. Nee ponnungardha marandhu neeyum avala love panna aaramichiduva”! Thereon, it only gets worse.

The feminist outrage

 There are two women playing important roles in the film and then some sidekicks. I’ll get to the sidekicks later.

Ram is in love with this ‘dream girl’ in Bangalore called Charu. She joins him for a project, lives in the same apartment as his, makes his coffee, takes him out shopping, insists he bathes very often and motivates him to pursue his idea for a competition (which is a software that saves people from radiation from outer space that is killing sparrows and flowers). When his mother passes away, she goes to his hometown and feeds him, she takes care of him in his depressed days, encourages him to make his own presentation and lets him sleep on her lap when he is upset. She is motherly, displays no intelligence (her idea for the competition was to write software for banking solutions) and is exactly how a woman should be (as decided by you know who).

 Ram is brought up by this widowed mother who is symbolic of how women should be (perhaps in an alternate universe). She gets widowed and brings up her son with the money that her husband had loaned out to a kovil Iyer. One night, a man tries to sexually assault her and in the process tells her that he is doing so because she is beautiful. Oh my god, isn’t it a crime for a widow to be beautiful (on yes, women still have to live in the 16th century)! The next morning she shaves off her hair and becomes ugly and unattractive instantly. Thereafter, men do not sexually assault her and the one who tried that stunt on her earlier also bends his head down while he walks past. She is rude and nasty to everyone else but loves her son dearly. When the son goes to Chennai to make his life, she stops eating and sleeping and dies because she cannot survive without him.

There is this visually challenged woman who uses the phone number Charu used earlier. She takes calls from Ram and talks to him like she is Charu (and has been doing this for years). He is such a darling lover that, this woman now waits for him to call every week. Yikes.

 That woman at work who chases after him to love her, Ouch!

 Motivational Delusion

Half way through the film, we learn that Ram has motivational delusion and he is hallucinating that he has a girlfriend and she lives in Bangalore, when in fact, she lives in the States and she is engaged to someone else. Motivational Delusion, what I believe is a psychological illness, is treated like some kind of a fancy designation to have. The only cure to the disease apparently is Charu’s death (rip off from Chandramukhi, clearly). However, when Ram learns that she is dead (or rather kidnapped), he comes back home, waits for three days and then hallucinates her returning again and lives happily ever after with her. What makes it worse is how he cannot differentiate his delusion from a real person. When real Charu comes to his house, there is no disconnect and people live happily ever after still! Duh, director!

 Not only does Ram hallucinate about this woman living with him, but also about a few men who are out to kill her. He believes that these two men (son of a minister and an industrialist) kidnap her. He chases them around (wearing strange makeup) and finally kills them one day. This, however, is perceived by Charu and her doctor uncle as his ability to keep her safe. Fantastic!

(Moral) Police

There is this Police (uncle of Charu’s) who shows up at many places in the film. The most prominent of all appearances is when he tells Charu, “we both know who committed these murders. But the murdered men are womanisers and criminals. Justice is done.” In essense,the Karnataka Police commissioner does not investigate the murder of his Home Minister’s son out of choice! Fantastic part 2!

The climax

Charu and her doctor friend try to stage her kidnap and murder to cure Ram of his delusion. She gets kidnapped, no doubt, but by her fiancée’s friends who tell her how they’ve killed three women before because her fiancée is more to them than a friend or a business partner. Wah wah! Some gay s3x clan killing women dating one of them? Fantastic part 3!

Finally, the doctor uncle saves Charu and takes her to the hospital. For a good measure he also convinces Charu’s father to get her married to Ram and so she goes back to the apartment to fit into Ram’s delusion. Final Fantastic!

In summary, the best thing about the film is G V Prakash Kumar’s Music. Now, that says it all, doesn’t it?!

If you have a funny bone left in you, here’s a look at the director of the film.

Dhoni

Dhoni is the latest addition to the fit of ridiculous Tamil movies that have been made about the game of cricket. The name of the film is ‘Dhoni – not out’, if you haven’t judged it already, read on.

0 or 1

This begins as the story of a young boy who wants to be ‘Dhoni’. He plays cricket (apparently, well) and hates to study. Until now, it is a binary game of studies vs. cricket.

Subbu (a tad overplayed by Prakash Raj) wants his son to forget cricket and concentrate on studies because he has to face board exams the next year. The son however cannot learn multiplication tables by heart but remembers Dhoni’s statistics (height, weight included) without a fuss. The coach (in a very unfitting role for Nasser) believes that the boy should not be forced to do what he does not like i.e. study but be allowed to do what he likes i.e. play cricket. Everybody is colour blind, it is either black or white!

Lesson here being: One can no study and play cricket!

Melodrama

The highpoint of melodrama in the film is the scene on Neeya Naana. The flood of tears, the direct accusation on the schools/ teachers and the talk of school being jail – mind-numbing exaggeration! The entire film is showered with melodrama, loud crying, name calling, blaming without any sensitivity towards what makes the situation that it is.

For example, that scene in which Subbu meets the Chief Minister is a shame to Prakash Raj’s intelligence. A long monologue of sacrificial rubbish and the photo opportunity thereafter is preachy to say the least and idiotic to say the truth! This should probably be understandable in a film where father beating up a son and pushing to coma is the story!

Telugu crowd

Majority of the supporting actors in the film happen to be popular actors from the Telugu film industry. They don’t fit in. They stand out like a sore thumb in spite of the popular voices like Delhi Ganesh dubbing for them.

One too many causes

Half an hour into the film, Prakash Raj has lost track of what he began the film with. There is a middle class hero talking of inflation (bordering socialism) selling pickles, there is a young woman who is (allegedly) sleeping with a rich man to feed her children, there is a boy who wants to play cricket, there is his sister who attains puberty, there is a ‘kandhu vaddi kaaran’ who turns saviour and there are very many others who all hang around in the film like single men in a bar – trying to make conversation but adding no real value.

The real moral of the story is for you to choose the right answer:

  1. A dysfunctional (capitalist) education system
  2. A dysfunctional (hypocritical) political system
  3. A misplaced family system
  4. All of the above

If the answer was intended to be (4), then it is horribly executed.

It all ends well

This is one thing we all knew. The boy recovers from coma, plays cricket, wins a match and makes his father proud. Duh!

This review is heavily skewed for various reasons. Disclaimer post here.

Dhanush thaandavam!

With Kolaveri still doing the rounds, there is one thing about Dhanush that caught my attention last year. He has mastered a unique style of dance for himself and does that in every single hit song. Samples below.

See his performance at 0:59 seconds. This is Mayakkam Enna.

Watch this one from 0:29 seconds. He does that practically throughout the song after that! And this is the second song from the same film.

The award winning Aadukalam. This is one of the most popular ones. From 0:33 he is all Dhanush-thaandavam

Of all the contemporary song-and-dance-heroes in Tamil cinema, Dhanush is perhaps the only one I could attribute a definitive style of dance to. Something that seems to be working for him and something he seems to take pride in. What do you think?

Vaagai Sooda Va – Victory beckons

This is one of those films that I have been waiting a long time to watch. It was not released in Bangalore and I had to watch on a thiruttu VCD. Giving credit to the lack of clear sound, a big screen, darkness, popcorn and suspension of disbelief, please read this review for what it’s worth!

Image Courtesy: Galatta.com

Every time a film is made in Tamil at the backdrop of a village, I have come to expect a horrifying painful ending which leaves me sleepless for a couple of nights. This expectation has, of course, been built by watching films such as Mynaa, Avan Ivan, Paruthiveeran and Thenmerku Paruvakaattru. Period film Subramaniapuram did not give us much to smile about in the end either. It is indeed disturbing to watch a beautifully made film with a horrible ending. With this at the back of my mind, I watched Vaagai Sooda Va anyway. I don’t regret it.

Vaagai Sooda Va is a story set in the 1960s Kandeduthaan Kaadu every resident of which is engaged in the manufacture of bricks. The village – known as the place from where the best bricks in the state are manufactured – is home to a bunch of families that uneducated, illiterate, innocent and hardworking. To this village comes a ‘Government job aspirant’ sent by a ‘private organisation’ to teach children. The villagers don’t receive this very well. They see no need to be taught.

Through the protagonist’s journey of trying to teach the children in the village, he learns how to face a chasing goat, how to cure himself of the effect of a ‘poisonous’ fruit, how to catch fish and how to do some math! Every one of his interactions with the children in the village is beautifully crafted. The scene where he is called “thevadiyappaya” by a child only to later realise he was told “thedi appadla” is true joy!

The tea-tending female lead is one of the most artistically written characters in contemporary Tamil cinema. She makes tea, cheats the man off his money and then serves him good food, takes care of her father’s business and boldly asks the man to marry her (in fact even working on earning her dowry). She has a sense of energy and charm with the innocence that only belongs in rural India. She is beautiful without make up. Such is such a loveable brat!

Kuruvikkaaran, of all is my favourite. Every time he says “Kuruvi saththam kekkudhu. Kuruvikku veedu illa”, my stomach churns thinking of all the trees we’ve cut down.

As for the story goes, you can guess every scene that is going to play out. You know what they will say and you know what exactly will happen. There is nothing by way of story that the director can claim new. By way of execution, the director has done some beautiful work.

All oppari scenes are cleverly done. Instead of the loud drums and weeping women, we hear a lovely song played in the background with visuals of drums and weeping women. The lyrics of the song are also highly intriguing though I don’t seem to find it on the web. The long shots and muddy huts are beautifully cinematographed. The role of that radio in the film is lovely.

The socialist in the director (or the emotion of the times) comes out in the scene where the protagonist says “Kaasu kudukkaravan ellam saami aayidaraan illa? Ivanayum nambidaadhinga. Ivanum modhalaali than” at the end of a capitalist scene where the incumbent is thrown out by competition!

In all, Vaagai Sooda Va is by no means the best film made in Tamil cinema. But it is one of the most beautiful ones made. It has its intentions intact, the execution is endearing and it leaves thoughts lingering in your mind long after the film is over. Sweet!

7 Am Arivu – Keppaila nei!

We should have known from all the promotional activity of the film that is going to be some sort of rhetorical hogwash trying to ride on the legacy of some strange fact in history.  It is the story of the (scientifically constructed) revival of a 16th century warrior/ saint/ medical practitioner (5th- 6th century AD – as promptly corrected by Muthukumar – Edit made on 30 Nov 2011.).

I generally abstain from bringing in film theory into my writing (though I am more convinced by the day that I should). 7 Am Arivu, however, is by far the best example of what Marx called false consciousness. In very simplified form, Marx’s argument that the proletariat is always kept in a state of false consciousness (of a fair treatment in society) to ensure status quo in a capitalist economy is the premise of most Marxian film criticism.

Spoiler alert: on @Psankar’s request!

Bodhidharman – the Tamilian Superman

7 Am Arivu (the Seventh Sense) begins with a (heavily opinionated) documentary film about Bodhidharman, a 16th century prince who has mastered multiple forms of art, who was sent to China to save the country from the evil. He goes there and saves a village full of Chinese from a deadly disease. He also fights a single-handed war against invaders and protects the country from them. He goes on to become Damo, the father of Shaolin and Kung Fu and hypnotism and such other.

The first 10-12 minutes are showered with generous references to veeram (valour), nermai (honesty), mariyadhai (respect – for elders), thiramai (skill) and such other attributes that established Bodhidharman as god and Tamil-ness as godliness.

Udal mannukku uyir Tamizhukku

After a few decades, 7 Am Arivu has brought back the blatant Tamil rhetoric to cinema. Throughout the film, practically everyone (apart from the Chinese villain and his Indian support) talk in immense pride about being Tamil. Suba (note that it is not the north-Indian Shubha) talks in details standing inside a museum in front of ancient weaponry about “nijamaana Tamizhargal” that only our ancestors are. However, it is important to note that the name Suba Srinivasan and her clearly upper class looks leave out the Dravidian rhetoric out rather tactfully. Also, the professor who first supports her and then turns out to be a traitor is one ‘Mr. Rangarajan’.

Convenient Tamil-ness, perhaps!

The scene where she meets big heads about her thesis on DNA research (written over 1000 years ago) based on scriptures by a Tamil man is carefully carved to get whistles from the audience, purely tickling their (inferiority and) superiority complexes about being Tamil. The exaggeration of her desire to speak in Tamil, her being ill-treated for being young (but noticeably not ill-treated for being a woman), and the tangentially equating Tamil – the language – to a monkey Vs. English – to a man all go on to prove the total lack of premise for the film to rest on. There is also a lesson on – remaining in India (and not moving abroad) in the end of that scene. Wonder if the director didn’t consider that Bodhidharman was an NRI himself!

Aravind, played with a lot of conviction by Suriya, also reads out pages about Tamil culture throughout the film. The scene in the forest where they all decide to bring back the Bodhidharman in Aravind is a loosely written ideological discourse. References to Ealam and the war in Sri Lanka are totally out of place and more importantly, trivialise the situation in Jaffna. I hope 8 Am Arivu won’t be a story in Sri Lanka!

China is the new Pakistan

The most shameful of all things about 7 Am Arivu is the use of ‘China’. Suriya saving India from the Chinese is no different from the Arjuns and Vijaykanths who saved India from Pakistan.

Bodhidharman (as the film itself says) went to China out of volition and chose to train the Chinese against training Indians in Kung Fu. After a thousand years and more, the Chinese waging a biological war against India is such a disgusting connection drawn by the most flimsy thinkers of our time.

Bringing a Chinese man to kill a helpless woman in some corner of the Tamilnadu and portraying him as a monster is such stereotypical load of crap. The Chinese paying Rs. 300 Crores to one man who is helping the Chinese kill a researcher does not sound much of political warfare to me. Even worse, there is a scene where Suba says (something to the effect that), “Ungalaala mudinja Indian army kuda sanda podunga da. Yen da makkal mela ipdi noya parapparinga?” (If you can, fight our Indian army. Why are you spreading diseases among the people?) Director does not read history unless it is less that a 1000 years old, I gather!

The censor board has gone out of the way to mute the word ‘Government’ after every time someone says ‘Chinese’. Good effort, I must say. But the scene where Dong Lee (the infamous Chinese villain in the film) is introduced, there are men in blazers and uniforms sitting around a table plotting the complete surrender of India to them. Does the censor board think that was all right for our bilateral relations? Really?

The woman is a manipulator

Suba, played by the synthetic Shruti Hassan, is the only woman character to speak of in the film. She is doing some sort of research in genetic engineering.

Through the first half of the film, Suba follows Aravind, collects samples of his blood, and uses him as her research sample without his own knowledge. Strangely in Tamil cinema, such people happen to be women, especially when they use ‘love’ as a weapon against harmless men. Why didn’t the writer see the researcher as a man – a brother, a friend, a father figure or some such?

One day when he finally finds out that he was being used for research (even when he has no idea what research it is), Aravind feels cheated and sings a song that is the peak of Tamil rhetoric about women. We’ve seen a million like this. Just a few sample lines here.

Aanoda kaadhal kai regai pola. Pennoda kadhal kaikuttai pola.

Ponbalaiya nambi kettu ponavanga romba. Andha varisaiyil naanum ippo kadasiyil ninnen.

Vandhu ponadhaaru oru nandhavana theru. Nambi nondhu ponen paaru ava poo illa naaru.

In summary,

7 Am Arivu is a pretentious rhetorical disaster that tells the viewers what to think about themselves, what to take pride in and what to be like. The camera work is pleasant to watch, a few songs are interesting (though all of them misplaced in the film), the stunt work is gory (intended, I presume), the dialogues are pretentious (Shruti Hassan needs to take some Tamil pronunciation lessons too) and the acting (apart from Suriya’s) is average.

But what bothers me most is the fact that Tamil cinema is going down the drain with rhetoric, condescension and unfounded arguments. All (allegedly) thinking directors taking this easy route to success aches my heart. In the least, such trash should stop being pitched as world-class cinema.

Copie Conforme

For people who studied cinema in any form (academically, that is) Abbas Kiarostami is like the Satyajit Ray of Iran. Legendary, known as the messiah of Iranian cinema across the globe and immensely rebellious within Iran, Kiarostami is a topic of study. I’ve read a bit about Kiarostami in college but the only film of his I recall watching is ‘Close Up’.

While reading up on European award winning films of the year, I came across ‘Copie Conforme’ (Certified Copy), written and directed by Abbas Kiarostami himself. I downloaded and watched yesterday.

The first half of the film is about art and the argument of originality in art. The argument continues against the backdrop of beautiful Italian countryside, switching languages between English, French and Italian. The two people admiring each other and having an interesting conversation about art suddenly get into a rather uncomfortable conversation and the film takes a sharp turn from there.

Image Courtesy: www.blu-raydefinition.comThe museum scene where the two argue in front of ‘the certified copy’ is rather interesting. The painting that was believed to be original for long before they found out it was a copy brings out the argument that every piece of art is either copied from something else (same form or otherwise). He brings up the point that the painting Mona Lisa is a copy of a woman (art in another form).

What starts as a disagreement about the idea of originality in art goes through various ups and downs to finally end as a domestic fight between man and wife. The conversation in the café where James Miller (protagonist played by William Shimell) says he lives his life and lets his family lives their own seems rather charming until the female lead (unnamed in the film played by Juliette Binoche) flips and starts screaming at him pointing at how tough it is to bring up a son, like it was his son too.

The woman’s desperate attempt at making Miller understand her meaning of the statue above is also a great string of scenes. They talk about this statue on and off. In the end, she takes him to the statue and makes another visitor tell him that the woman is resting on the man’s shoulder seeking reassurance and protection from him.

The conversations (though in many languages at a time – The man speaks in English and the woman responds in French) are the highlight of the film. The film is practically a dialogue between a man and a woman about various things. When the conversation moves from pleasant intellectual discussions to a domestic argument, the discomfort reaches the audience. While we do not know (till the end) that they are a couple, the conversations leave the audience worried and disturbed.

From two people driving across Italy and having a fight, a fantastic film called ‘certified copy’ has been made! Of course, art, coffee, beautiful cast and a wonderful backdrop add immense value!

Image Courtesy: www.blu-raydefinition.com/

Mankatha – the lost game!

It is a Venkat Prabhu film with Ajith and Premgi in it called Mankatha! Obviously, I wasn’t expecting to see a meaningful film that would be a path breaking initiative in overriding Tamil stereotypes. Even as a fun-film that one should watch without exercising their brain cells, this film is trashy!

Mankatha begins with a promise. A fancy entry for Vinayak Mahadevan (of course Ajit), a stunt scene establishing his invincibility, betting in Indian sports and all the supporting actors who will eventually go unnoticed – the film begins with some spectacle and noise.  Suddenly some police officer hangs himself. Prithvi (Arjun Sarja) is appointed to “eradicate” betting in Indian sports. The stage is set for the ‘Thirudan-Police’ game. Venkat Prabhu brings in lorry loads of people, some 500 crores, guns that never run short of bullets and some scantily clad women to make up the rest of the film.

Ajit’s character is flimsy. He is a drunkard (also drives drunk), smokes like a chimney, sleeps with any woman (once with Premgi as well, if I dare say), cheats on his girlfriend, shoots people without mercy and suddenly post intermission acts like a psycho. Of course, there are moments of brilliance. But the film has no ‘stuff’ for Ajit to rein on! He can’t dance for nuts. He is rather unromantic. Does nothing extraordinary and carries a ‘thoppai’ that has a mind of its own.

Image Courtesy: Sulekha

Arjun (Sarja for the non-Tamils) comes on screen after ages. I can’t even remember what was his last film. Arjun gets a glaring introduction where he annoyingly blows his hair away at every turn. To give credit where it’s due, Arjun has done all he can to earn equal footing as Ajit in the film. He runs hard, shoots his gun (at a weird angle) often, sits in conference rooms and makes grand plans. He’s done a fair job of what’s in his control. If only he could manage to look a tad younger, I’d be showering praise for him.

There are three women (leads) in the film. Trisha looks pretty, gets cheated, cries a bit and disappears. So much for being Ajit’s pair in the film. Lakshmi Rai sleeps with Ajit. Then reappears post interval in swimwear only to make a fool of herself (getting called **************** before dying). Andrea, playing Arjun’s wife, come in exactly three scenes, looks hassled and makes no difference. Venkat Prabhu seems to have taken it upon himself to ensure ‘Mankatha’ is not mistaken to be a woman.

Image courtesy: Sulekha

Image courtesy: Sulekha

Vaibhav Reddy and Arvind Akash have done commendable jobs and look more handsome than Ajit (if I dare say). Premgi’s plays the role of an IIT gold medallist who can hack into an ATM with just an IP address. Rather ordinary and not in the least funny.

As we’d have expected, there is no story. What’s disappointing is that for a film running on robbery and sports betting, this is brainless to say the least. Ajit uses no brain to thieve the money from Chettiar. Instead, he rides on a bike and unscrews something under a lorry and leaves you feeling like a fool. At every turning point in the film (mind you there are many), someone dies, money disappears, gunshots happen and the story goes nowhere.

Mediocre dialogues. Apart from “comedy panna naan yenna santhaanama” and “vada Billa Gatesu”, there is not one dialogue that will become cult (like most dialogues in Venkat Prabhu’s previous films). A couple of foot tapping numbers and a decent re-recording, Yuvan Shakar Raja does no magic. Lyrics are either gross or incomprehensible.

There is too much hype around Ajit that is hardly substantiated. He keeps saying “I am king maker” and I wonder which king has he made. One small show of a Vijay song, one mention of Ilayaraja, Vinayak and Prithvi calling each other Thala and action king – some of the very many annoyances in the film.

In summary, Venkat Prabhu has completely lost the point. He should perhaps try and write the story first and cast later!

Vandhaarai vaazhavaikkum Tamil cinema?

I’ve always wondered why actors in Tamil cinema see the need to change names? Everyone from Rajinikath to Ganja Karuppu use pseudonyms, which later becomes their real names. Why would people do that?

When I spent some time looking deeper into this, I realised there are various reasons for which people change names. The most interesting of them all for me, is the name change that tends to hide religion. Many actors change names to a neutral one from their real name that could specifically point to their religion.

Image courtesy: Sulekha.com

Recently, while gaping at Arya, I realised he was born as Jamshad Cethirakath. Shaam (the erstwhile actor who was supposed to be the ‘dancing competition’ for Madhavan) also is a Muslim born as Shamsuddin Ibrahim. Khushboo was born as Nakhat Khan. In fact, even Joseph Vijay chose to use his ‘middle name’ Vijay as against calling himself Joseph on screen. John Kennedy Vinod Raj (who we all know as Chiyaan Vikram) shed his whole name.

My argument here is not that everybody adopts a Hindu name. Even Saravanan Sivakumar had to become Surya. So, the point to note here is not that one religion is more acceptable than another. The point is the acceptance of anything symbolic of religion at large. I am not getting into details of why each of them chose to change their name because each could have their own personal reason. But I am only going one step ahead to see if there is a trend, which could mean anything about the inclusiveness of Tamil cinema.

Image courtesy: galatta.com

While nurturing that stream of thought, I also notice that there are people like Abbas, Mumtaz, Livingston, Nasser and Rahman who have survived in Tamil cinema. Even recently, people like Ajmer keep coming and do well for themselves. But in Tamilnadu, where names are used as a means of self-expression (heard of the Stalins and the Mysskins?), it becomes very important that people might need to change names to fit in or even survive.

If that is the case, it is definitely a shame! If you know any better and have experiences to share, please use the comments section. I’d love to hear from you!

P.S: Wikipedia links used because that is the one common place I could find information about everyone. If you notice an error, or if you know of another place where I can access legitimate information, please let me know.

180 – utter rubbish!

I have half a mind to rubbish the whole film off. It was definitely rubbish. But there is more to the film that needs to be said. In the rest of the post, you are not going to find anything good about this film (barring a couple of things, perhaps). So, if that’s okay with you, read on.

To begin with, there is nothing new about this film. We’ve seen it a million times in gazillion forms. From Nenjil Or Aalayam and Vaazhve Maayam to Manasellam, we have seen and heard stories about protagonists suffering from fatal illnesses. This film makes no attempt to even tell the story differently. The same stunt to start on a happy note, go back and forth in the disguise of memories and then end in pseudo-profound ambiguity.

There is one do-gooder. A girl falls in love with him. He ignores her. She hurts herself. He travels across the globe to save her. He has pancreatic cancer. He dumps her (and his wife) and goes away to play ball in Brazil! That’s it. No more. No less.

Mano or Ajay or AJ or whatever (played by Siddharth after a long gap in Tamil) takes just some washing and ironing clothes to impress Vidya (played by Nithya Menen who looks just the same as she used to while I’ve seen her in college) who is a photo journalist. Ignoring the fact that photo journalist is the new software engineer in Tamil cinema, her role is so flimsy. She speaks so little, settles for much less and says she ‘doesn’t care’ that AJ is already married.

While we are on AJ’s marriage, his wife Renuka (this scrawny Priya Anand) is even worse. She falls in love with her doctor because he brings her filter coffee. She is annoying and her mimicry skills are terrible. She adds no real value, perhaps because her character is as flimsy as every other character in the film.

AJ is the hero. He is the sacrificial man who dumps his wife so she doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he is suffering from cancer. He runs away and comes ‘home’ from America. He learns from a little boy in Varanasi how not to fear death and then starts ‘living’. He pays all his bills in advance and hangs around aimlessly. As handsome as he may be, he is a waste of space. No real charm and no smart lines.

If I were to see this as a film about romance, there are no romantic moments. There is not a single scene that is ‘awww’ worthy. If this film is about ‘living in the present’, you don’t get the point until AJ himself mentions it on a bus ride (which you wait for after watching all the promos). If this is about fatal diseases, not for a moment to you feel sympathy or empathy.

AJ annoys you with his over-reaction when he discovers he has cancer (now don’t argue I’d never know how it feels. It is annoying. Period). The African American man playing ‘death’ AJ is a disgrace to human thinking!

If you put a gun to my head and I have to say something nice about 180, I’d choose the cinematography and (to an extent) the music. The colours are pleasant to the eyes and the people do look beautiful. Vuvuzela is shot well, I have to admit. However, it seems too long and is the beginning to a million songs that follow.

In all, 180 is trashy. Bad thought process, loose screenplay, too many clichés and over-acting people. This is the film you go to when you are looking to have an undisturbed conversation. You can talk your heart out and nothing would have changed!