Zero Tolerance: a look at kodambakkam’s finest
2024, more than any other year in film in recent memory, showed us exactly what each of the major regional industries represents in an almost definitive fashion. Looking at the biggest releases of the year and their varying degrees of success, it’s been made explicitly clear that Tamil cinema is at an existential crisis, awkwardly trying to stand out as the weird middle sibling of the Telugu and Malayalam industries.
Still riding the coattails of the “pan-India” wave that does not seem to be slowing down, Tollywood delivered two giant releases that effortlessly demolished the box office, something Tamil cinema’s biggest names could not match. While the overwhelming successes of Kalki and Pushpa 2 did prove that it’s always the unapologetic hero worship that makes the most mint here, they also showed that such films could transcend the superficial idea of ‘masala’. Although I do enjoy a mindless action flick like Devara, there’s inarguably so much more merit in a film that earns the applause by being something special; through something beyond just the name of a star. Analogously, it was no surprise that GOAT was the biggest Tamil release of the year, although there’s something very frightening about the “thalapathy churned out a blockbuster despite mixed-negative reviews” sigma reels that seem to be proud of the fanbase’s tendency to settle for something substandard simply because they want their favourite actor to be the first to cross the 1000 crore milestone.
The crowds in Kerala, on the other hand, exemplified once again that if there’s genuine effort and heart that went into something, they’re gonna show up to support it. Be it Premalu, a simple rom-com that boasts nothing more than a couple of charming leads and a fresh score, or Brammayugam, a gorgeously shot period-horror rooted in local folklore, Mollywood pulled off successes that no other state could have. Think what you will of the films themselves, they’re certainly far from flawless, but there’s no arguing that this summer was the best time for the industry since their OTT reign in 2021. A survival thriller like Manjummel Boys enjoying the same success as a silly action comedy like Aavesham goes to say that there is no point in investing all your money in a “bankable” star that’s guaranteed to bring the masses, and hanging onto a “success formula” that has worked in the past. That said, I do rue the gentrification of these two particular films once the Instagram filmbros discovered them, reposting the same two scenes and fundamentally forgetting the point by celebrating only the flashy pandering.
It was this same “they don’t make them here like they do in Kerala bro” audience, however, that also went “seems good, Telegram link anuppunga bro” when films like Thangalaan and Vaazhai came out. Although Viduthalai Part 2 has had a good run at the box office, that’s almost solely attributed to the inherent aura behind a Vetrimaaran film, something he had to earn through his spotless back catalogue. People refuse to support a good film unless there’s some name attached that brings hype, failing to recognize newer filmmakers and smaller films.
Releases like Captain Miller showed that a star-driven film could still attempt at having heartfelt themes, with the stand-out scene not being the climactic shoot-out or a slow-mo intro setpiece but rather, an angry monologue that reveals Dhanush’s reluctance to fight for an India that saw him as inferior and barred him from entering temples, against a colonial army that gave him a uniform, a respect-worthy title and most importantly, self esteem. Similarly, Rajinikanth’s Vettaiyan saw the titular “hunter” cop renounce encounter-killing and amend his ways following a career built on decades of murders marketed as “cool” and “stylish”, paralleling Rajinikanth’s own secret to success on the big screen. Although both films fell apart by virtue of their messy screenplays and ultimately failed to impress critics or audiences, make no mistake in assuming that the audiences are not ready to see someone question an established formula and deconstruct the template; they simply want to see it done well.
“The more ethnic and rooted your work, the more global its reach is going to be.”
A Vetrimaaran quote is as indispensable to an essay on films as Premji is to a Venkat Prabhu movie, so kindly indulge me. The quote is, in many ways, a throwback to a pre-Instagram era when there was no tangible line between “commercial cinema” and “arthouse cinema”. Films like Aadukalam, Subramaniapuram and Paruthiveeran enjoyed simultaneous critical and commercial acclaim without trying to specifically cater to a “mass audience” or an “award audience”. They simply were good films that people watched and celebrated. Today, however, films like Kadaisi Vivasayi and Kottukali get branded as “laggy” and fail to make a mark among the masses, despite unanimous recognition from international film festivals, which we later shamelessly flex despite failing to support them when it mattered the most.
Which finally brings me to the watch that inspired this whole essay: Meiyazhagan.
A tiny procession of kids walking to a grocery market, each remembering one item off the list they recite in chorus. A son that wins his father’s respect as a “man” after getting his first bicycle. An estranged native settled in the city, awkwardly trying to avoid a persistent relative he does not recognise at a family gathering. Random strangers in the village recognising him, introducing themselves as former students of his father’s.
It is through relatable elements and anecdotes like this, woven naturally into the narrative itself, that Meiyazhagan establishes and develops its setting and characters that evoke familiar, yet long-forgotten memories. Prem Kumar already proved with 96 that he can make you relate to an extremely specific set of circumstances, bringing up nostalgia for something you may not have even experienced. If anything, this film only further confirms Karthi’s knack for spotting new talents and helping them fully realise their vision in their sophomore ventures, something we’ve already seen happen with Madras, Theeran and Kaithi. Unfortunately, what could’ve been our response to Mollywood’s indie hits ended up getting trimmed and offhandedly dismissed to Netflix following a disappointing theatrical run, after which it was labelled a “hidden gem” and a “cult classic”. We failed as an audience.
However, the success of Amaran proved that, looking past the cynicism characteristic of pretentious circles, there’s still hope. The biggest achievement of the Diwali tentpole was not the “raahh military” hype or the much anticipated passing over of the baton (or rather, the thuppakki). It was the demonstration that commercial “mass” entertainment can still be sensible. Despite minor pacing issues, the cultural context of its release and some discourse regarding its socio-political choices, the film is clear evidence that industry traditions like humour, sentiment and songs can be integrated organically into a big release without forcibly shoehorning them in.
So, what’s next? Looking ahead at what’s in store for us next year, we most notably have industry legends like Suriya, Rajinikanth and Ajith Kumar (all looking desperately to make a much deserved comeback) teaming up with young talent for some stylish action thrillers. While these are undeniably the most anticipated releases of the year (mine too), I implore that you also keep in mind that there’s so much more in the pipeline. We’ve got Karthi starring in a period drama helmed by director Tamizh (of Taanakkaran fame) in his, you guessed it, sophomore project. We’ve got veteran auteurs like Ameer and Ram making their much awaited returns, as well as new-age icons like Ranjith and Mari Selvaraj coming off hot streaks. And as always, there’s countless small releases, currently on no one’s radar, that could make a mark and establish new names.
Films like this are assuredly not going to fare nearly as well as, say, the purported torch-bearer of democracy, but they don’t have to. All they need is some love when it matters, opening the door (Meiyazhagan reference) for more new talent, better features and, if we’re all lucky, no further Indian 2 sequels.
