I (2015)

Arguably one of the most expensive pulpy, B movies in the history of cinema, Shankar's "I" is a classic tale of revenge about a simple man who, in pursuit of love, makes too many enemies, gets wronged, and eventually avenges them. Suffused with the opulence that Shankar's films are most well-known for, "I" has the technical finesse which was amiss in his previous films. Yet, "I" is a spectacular misfire -  a supremely predictable trashy genre fare with a muddled voice, a rotten heart and a misplaced moral centre.

Shankar has never been an economical filmmaker, both in terms of storytelling and especially when it comes to being extravagant (or reckless, depending on who you ask.) He is a man who has built a career on vulgar wastefulness and 'subtle' is a term that has seldom been used to describe any of his films. Returning three years after "Nanban", and for the first time with an original screenplay since the demise of long time writing partner Sujatha, Shankar's indulgence appears to have largely gone unchecked in terms of political correctness (or basic decency) and particularly when it comes to thematic clarity. In terms of a physically damaged protagonist hunting monsters who ruined his past life "I" is like "Ghajini". But "Ghajini" had one villain to vanquish - the kingpin. "I" has 5, though that is not why it is a lesser film. It fumbles big time because all 5 of them are on an even keel in terms of importance. "I" is "Kill Bill" without a Bill. It is a film that, by design, is doomed to dissatisfy.

Despite missing the fervor that put the grandeur typical to his films into perspective, the structure is quite admirable for the entirety of first half, with Shankar never resorting to over-explaining. The narrative shifts back and forth, switching between the past where Lingesan aka Lee is in the act of unwittingly making enemies, to the present, where a disfigured Lingesan, one by one, subjects his victims to brutal physical injury. It's when the timelines converge that non-twists are hyped up like twists and the film suddenly starts over-explaining the shit out of developments so obvious that it's kind of unbelievable a director like Shankar thought them to be unpredictable. The relative economy of first half is over-compensated by the expositions in the second.

Vikram, in his most physical role to date, stars as a bodybuilder who becomes a model and then loses it all. For a change of pace, we have a sensible female lead character in Amy Jackson's Dia, but with Vikram portraying a close version of the "loosu ponnu" archetype. He's an unreasonably chirpy and naive man, unconvincing in his half-baked North Madras baashai, but with a penchant for violence. Think Ambi with Anniyan's fighting genes. There's a chasm of class difference between Lee and Dia, an elephant in the room, that the film acknowledges. Mersalaiyitten is itself a self-contented celebration of this divide - an acceptance by Lee of his own huge complex. But then the are the circumstances under which the two meet again. And it's just plain, shoddy writing. Here's where Vikram's performance is pretty terrible. "Look at me! I am ACTING!" A lot will be said about his physical performance but without the crutch (or excuse) of prosthetics, his performance is severely lacking. Not once does he convince you of his "North Madras-ness", the way Kamal has done in the past, or the way even Santhanam very casually does in this very movie.

If you are someone like me - someone who gave Shankar way too much credit - you too are likely to spend most of the first half frustratingly breaking your head over what is it that he is trying to convey with this film. Is this film about extreme obsessions of fan culture? Or about the lack of inventiveness in advertising, maybe? Is it eventually going to make a statement, hopefully with subtlety, about the hollowness of appearances? Will it shame society for marginalising the transgendered community? Will it teach its audience a thing or two about empathy for the differently-abled? Sooner or later, like me, you too will stop looking for a subtext and resign yourself to the fact that there isn't one. In hindsight, I find it absolutely ridiculous that I lent Shankar even that much of credence, painfully analyzing why he was being such a pig headed transphobe and shockingly insensitive towards disabled.

There's something unsettling and perverse about Lee fiendishly deriving pleasure in hurting someone to the point he does, revenge it may be. On a baser level, this whole adukkum melai business is exactly what sick, jilted lovers think when girls turn down their advances. That's the reasoning behind the bad guys seeking to destroy the one thing about Lee that has resulted in their undoing: his beauty, his physicality. Tying this idea to the bad guys makes sense because, obviously, they are bad guys and its a horrible thing to do to anyone. What Shankar doesn't realize, perhaps does and simply doesn't care, is that, without just vanquishing, making his bad guys taste their own medicine, all at the hands of the hero. There's no difference between the two sides anymore. It's irrelevant who drew first, especially when you were never really fond of the hero in the first place. Worse is Shankar having Santhanam's tragically unfunny character go around rubbing salt on the wounds of Lee's victim. What reaction does Shankar expect from his audience during this scene? Laughter? Some people laughed, but I squirmed. 

I have no qualms with Shankar revelling in stereotypes. The promiscuity and low morals of people from the fashion industry, evil multinational corporations, pervy doctor uncles, the virginal and "pure" lover, gangsters from North Madras - go ahead, have it all. But there needs to be a limit to the chest-thumping idealism in his films that more often than not reek of hypocrisy. Big corporations, soft-drink companies especially, have become convenient punching bags for "socially conscious" sub-plots, with Vijay Mallaya as the poster child, embodying everything that's wrong about them. "I" is one of those Shankar films where he does not keep us busy watch him peddle grandstanding social reforms or his protagonist hand out impersonal justice. This brings into focus his world-view, and, my God, what a regressive outlook it is.

Shankar has the sense of humour of a horny 14 year old, but raunchiness is a-okay in my books. He casts someone from the transgender community for the role of someone from the fashion industry. Another stereotype, but I'm willing to cut him slack. What makes me absolutely furious is his treatment of the character in the hands of the film's "hero", especially when there was no obligation to cast a transgender in the first place - unless, of course, he was making a point about gender violence and marginalisation. Cinema is a powerful medium and filmmakers have the responsibility to, if not help emancipate, at least refrain from causing further trouble. Trust me when I say I have thought about this element in the film for a long time since watching the film and there's no way to justify Shankar's insolence. Even if I were to watch the film in isolation, away from the people relishing the drab scenes, I am sure I still would have been offended because this is not a case of audience misinterpreting a director's intentions. He could have done wonders for the community if he boldly chose to. Instead, he chooses to be so detrimental that it makes my head reel. He is not just ridiculing them the way all minimally talented Indian directors do.  I don't say this because Shankar is one of our country's leading directors but because of how relentless his film is in destroying the pride of the said character - even making Vikram utter a line that basically meant "know your place." One day in future, when majority of Indians, hopefully, would have realized the magnitude of injustice directed towards the transgender community, we will look back in horror that we let a filmmaker like Shankar run amok spewing insensitive and ignorant ideas. "I" would be 21st century Tamil cinema's "The Birth of a Nation"; an albatross around its director's neck.

Clearly out of ideas, Shankar is very close to becoming just a glorified music-video director. In terms of visual grandeur, other directors have caught up and his monopoly has waned. It's high time he stopped thinking in terms of money shots and set pieces and concentrated on a better script. Vikram's efforts are commendable, but seem like an overkill - mostly futile and unnecessary, when less would have sufficed. Amy Jackson is very good. Taking everything into consideration, there's not much left to make "I" worthy of an audience. It's just not fun enough to overlook its flaws. Also, Shankar, please make up your mind about what "I" means. Is it the name of the Mallya lookalike's company or the name of the virus? Or perhaps something that's good? I mean, why else would the two lovers run around singing it? Oh, and in case you are having trouble telling who the bad guys in "I" are, just look out for the people who are smoking a cigarette. Ingenious filmmaking!

Lingaa (2014)

Rajnikanth's sixth film of the 21st century is an unsurprising disappointment. A loosely plotted film which generously borrows tropes from the actor's previous films, KS Ravikumar's "Lingaa" tirelessly references works from the actor's illustrious past without building anything original of its own that would stand the test of time and be worthy of being looked back at. The writing is dated and lazy, and the general sentiment of the film seems to be embroiled in old values, completely out of touch with times. Other than clearly being a hastily made cash-grab, it is a failure on multiple levels, with none of the contributors coming through to make this film the special event of the year that it was supposed to be. It's frankly insulting to fans of Rajnikanth and to the superstar himself, who is let down on all fronts.

Madras (2014)

This article is intended for people who have seen Pa. Ranjith’s Madras.

Set in Vyaasarpadi, "Madras" tells the story of the residents of housing board apartments who are caught up in a turf war between two political parties. In an expository prologue, a narrator establishes the film's primary conflict - whoever controls a particular wall of an unfortunately located apartment gets to establish themselves as the stronger of the two parties, thus cementing political success. Disregarding the nitty-gritty logistics, on a baser level, the issue boils down to show of power, the wall holding the key to all the problems for the stakeholders. It's a simple, yet potent and compelling premise that ever pivots around this sevuru. Painted on the wall is the face of a dead man whose son Kannan is a member of the incumbent political party. Hidden behind a huge mustache, always lit up in the dark, ever appearing to be in a smile mocking the people caught up in this senseless mayhem. It's a territory war saga that has trickled down generations, destroying too many families, taking too many lives, with a ceasefire offering only temporary solace.

Kathai Thiraikathai Vasanam Iyakkam (2014)

The most admirable aspect of "Kathai Thiraikathai Vasanam Iyakkam" is that it is not a product of some industry newbie, but a filmmaker who has clocked a little over three decades. In its intentions, "Kathai Thiraikathai.." can be looked at as a less subtle companion piece to "Jigarthanda". While the latter was a pissed off condemnation of the system, this film is an understanding acknowledgment of problems in Tamil cinema. Director R. Parthiepan doesn't preach, and the attitude is anything but holier-than-thou. It's a film with a bit of everything; ideas are tossed all around to see what sticks. And when a film is about nothing, it is, intentionally or otherwise, about everything. It's a story of a filmmaker suffering writer's block; about his deteriorating marriage; a meta movie within movie; a high concept science fiction and even a murder mystery. As intended, the plotting appears arbitrary, but is, in fact, always deliberate, ever in an attempt to make a bigger point.

Jigarthanda (2014)

It's always delightful when young filmmakers show ambition in technique. One of the earliest scenes in "Jigarthanda" is a long take which, although only runs for less than half a minute, is nevertheless a pleasant sight. It follows a young man as he makes his way onto the stage of a reality television show about film-making. The buildup he gets will have you believe otherwise, but the young man, one of the four contestants on the show, is a tongue-tied nervous wreck waiting for the jury to announce their verdict about his short film. A highbrow film director calls it a "kuppa padam". A lowbrow film producer, who wears his heart on his sleeve and his dislike for the director on his face, calls it the "bestu padam". Chaos ensues and the young filmmaker somehow lands a one film deal with the producer to make a blood-curdling gangster film. So off goes our hero Karthik Subramani (Siddharth) in search of a story to Madurai, the land of barotta-mutton chuka, jigarthanda and crime. He picks his subject: Sethu (Simhaa), a gangster at the top of his game. And then he observes.

Godzilla (2014)

This article is intended for people who have seen Gareth Edwards’ Godzilla.

The "Transformers" franchise created a space for Robots vs Robots movies and "Pacific Rim" attempted something similar for the Robots vs Monsters sub-genre. With Gareth Edwards' fantastic "Godzilla", we are back to where we started: Monsters fighting Monsters; the resulting film is majestic and awe inspiring.

Cuckoo (2014)

Have you ever noticed how your jaw starts to hurt a bit after you cry a lot? Well, that's exactly what happened to me as I watched director Raja Murugan's phenomenal debut "Cuckoo". It reveals to us a world of people who have been living right in front of our eyes for all this time. While I believe no human should ever be bereft of any of the five traditional senses, there's something particularly cruel about blindness. We all must have noticed how visually impaired men and women come together and live as a family. They marry either because it makes sense from a financial point of view or just because they are in love. This is one such love story where the possibility of love happening at first sight is nonexistent. And what a love story it is!

Carrie (2013)

One of the biggest issues with Kimberley Peirce's film adaptation of Stephen King's "Carrie" is that it appears to be assuming that everyone watching the film has read the book or watched Brian De Palma's 1976 film. Right from the opening scene where Julianne Moore's Margaret is seen writhing in pain, oblivious to the fact that she is in labour, the film comes across as too eager to get to the parts which are now considered iconic. Often, when a major character is to be introduced, the camera slows down and some character off screen utters their full name loud and clear. Carry White. Sue Snell. Tommy Ross. Chris Hargensen. Yeah. That's the quality of writing you can expect from this film.

Veeram (2014)

How seriously can you take a film that tries to milk sentiment out of its star's salt and pepper look? The answer is: not very seriously. No matter how you see it, director Siva's "Veeram" is an awfully trite movie. It is absurdly predictable and throws cliches at us two at a time. I'd like to say there's a method to its madness but that would be far from true. Yet there's something about it that keeps it from being completely useless.

Jilla (2014)

Director R. T. Neason's "Jilla" reduces Mohanlal into being a narcissistic caricature with a God complex who converses only in punch dialogues. His Sivan is a feared Don in Madurai who makes his victims perform a version of seppuku where they are supposed to slit their throat instead. He adopts his driver's son after the boy's father gets killed by a policeman. The son Sakthi (Vijay) grows up into a classic porikki, becoming Sivan's right hand man. They are pretty much the same kind of unsympathetic people like Simmakkal Ravi, the villain in "Pandianadu". But the film glorifies them and tries to lend them some dignity when there is none to be deserved.