Movie Review of Rajinikanth's Kaala

 Review:Rajinikanth's Kaala

In a nutshell, Kaala is a socialist film wrapped in a Super(star) cover. If you go to see it expecting the usual Rajini fanfare, you will be surprised, maybe even disappointed. It is not a Pa Ranjith film starring superstar Rajinikanth. It is a film in which actor Rajinikanth has been directed by Pa Ranjith.

The world of difference between the two is obvious from the manner in which Rajini is introduced in Kaala. Since the early 1990s, an intro song sung in high-pitch by SP Balasubrahmanyam has been the staple diet of every Rajini flick. If Kabali and Kaala are anything to go by, Ranjith is not enamoured of that formulaic template.

(Spoilers ahead)

Rajini’s character in Kaala is introduced playing galli cricket with the kids in the slum. A decade ago, a Rajini film with a similar scene would have shown the character hitting the last ball for a six. But there are no larger-than-life figures in a Ranjith world. Rajini instead is clean bowled, middle-stump uprooted to add to his embarrassment. Later, in his first confrontation scene with Nana Patekar, who plays Haridev Abhayankar, the antagonist, Rajini wears his glares sans the trademark flick.

Welcome to the 2018 avatar of Rajinikanth — more human, more sober, more flesh and blood, more you and me. The superstar is on vacation. Or perhaps, retired for good.

Why would a Rajini fan then want to spend his hard-earned money to purchase a first-day, first-show ticket to watch a superstar who does not tower over the film, who is not over generous with his punch dialogues, who has to share the screen space with a consummate villain and three powerfully-etched women characters?

For the simple reason that Rajinikanth seems to have decided to go back to his pre-Baasha days, when the script was king and he played a character, not a Rajinikanth. Kaala is not a mere hero-vanquishes-villain story, it is a commentary on social inequality in modern-day India, the plight of the downtrodden (aided with some brilliant art work, recreating Dharavi sets in Chennai) and climaxing in a revolt of sorts.

Kaala is the story of Kaala Karikaalan, whose roots are in Tirunelveli in Tamil Nadu. He is not the typical good-hearted don who is also into doing shady stuff but a respected elder whose word carries weight in Dharavi. He is opposed to politician Haridev Abhyankar’s plan to demolish the largest slum in Asia, to construct a modern complex replete with shopping malls, golf courses, hospitals, schools and hotels. The clash between the two forms the core of Kaala.

What makes it interesting is the manner in which Ranjith reverses the traditional template of good and bad. Hari dada wears white, has a Ram idol prominently placed in his living room, even the sofa set in his home is pristine white and he swears by the Ramayana. Some thought has also obviously gone into the choice of his name, as Hari is another name for Lord Vishnu. In contrast, Kaala wears black, revels in the dirt and squalor of his chawl, is called Raavan by Hari dada. Kaala also refers to himself as Yama and it is this Yama, an abstract Karikaalan, who vanquishes Hari dada who imagines he is Ram.

What helps humanise Rajini’s character is the presence of the family ecosystem – four sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren et al. Most of them are not cardboard characters but hold their own even in the Rajinikanth scenes. Especially Eshwari Rao, who plays his wife. She is the scene stealer, who ensures Karikaalan is not a rowdy 24×7 but a caring husband. While Huma Qureshi and Anjali Patil play social activists, with a love angle with Huma’s character thrown in in flashback, the actor with the most funny lines is Samuthirakani. The talented actor plays Rajini’s perennially drunk brother-in-law, who has an obsession for Facebook.

Given Rajinikanth’s political foray, there is understandably considerable interest in whether Kaala is a launchpad of sorts. It is and it is not. Rajini’s character makes a pitch for people owning the land instead of vested political and corporate interests. He talks of protesting, making the point that their body is their only weapon. If Rajini had not made that trip to Tuticorin after the firing during the Sterlite protest in which 13 people died, this would have been taken as his political belief.

But neta Rajinikanth’s frowning upon “continuous protests” arguing that “they will convert Tamil Nadu into a graveyard” took people by surprise. The people of Tamil Nadu realised that the real Rajinikanth is not the reel Karikaalan, though in the context of Tuticorin, they would have wished he was so.

Kaala is a deeply political film, that touches upon just about every issue facing the country today. From communal polarisation to land acquisition to Swachh Bharat to the rich-poor divide. The movie rejects the beautification plan of Hari dada for Dharavi but what is the alternative that Karikaalan has to offer. Is it a lifetime of squalor with status quo passing off for a life of dignity and self-respect? While backing the people’s right to protest, Kaala provides no clear answers on the way forward.

But purely as a cinematic exercise, the advantage of casting Rajinikanth is that he can play the hero as well as the rowdy hero. “You haven’t seen the full rowdyism of Karikaalan yet,” he warns in the movie with a swagger that is Rajinikanth patented. That rowdyism among other things, is his ability to take on a pack of villains with only his stylish umbrella as the weapon.

At 67, Rajinikanth is an ageing actor but he is also a stylish, ageing actor. Patekar says of Karikaalan that “like Raavan, he is able to think with ten brains”. That was one moment, I thought, Ranjith gave Rajinikanth a touch of benig superhuman.