Rajinikanth fans are seen in front of a poster of 'Kabali' a cinema hall in Chennai. APSo you watched Kabali. Let’s take a look at you. Elated with a grin writ large on your face while you show off your very own Thalaivar accessories? Lost in thought about who’s who of all the leering gangsters in Malaysia, or, did you feel like you were witnessing a strange game of hide-and-seek with director Pa. Ranjith and Superstar?
I would say I belong to the third category (while partly subscribing to the second and the accessories part in the first) and I dared to express the said emotions in a (hapless) review. What followed was nothing short of a deluge of comments; some blatantly accusatory, some others tried to explain ‘what I missed in there’ in a menacingly mellow tone. My voice trailed, throat felt parched, wide-eyed wonder took over. Never had I had to listen to such passionate arguments over a film; such is the impact of Rajinikanth on his unadulterated fans. Respect to that.
However, I’d like to point out some of the interesting points that emerged ‘After Kabali’ (christening it AK) while I was dodging the bullets.
AK instance 1
Comment: “It’s refreshing to see Rajini without his usual fare of punch dialogues. It’s high time he moves on, for his fans might have started to feel ridiculous!”
Strange! Wasn’t this man treasured for the very same punch dialogues and superb comic timing and a neatly balanced equation of both that got you to whistle to your heart’s content? So if it wasn’t for Rajini, then for whose sake did you even grace that reserved seat in the cinema hall? How did you even connect with the star after Neruppu Da... if you had not clapped madly at his flicking a stylish finger while executing that crackling gait to perfection? And then you say, No punch? No believe, I say. To render Rajini bereft of his act and wishing you’d like him to do away with the so-called ‘punch dialogues’ is in a way saying you’ll turn a believer from an atheist if god sheds his twinkling crown. (It was just an analogy, I did not call Rajini god).
AK instance 2
Comment: “Pa. Ranjith has dealt with a heavy theme of minority issues faced by fifth generation Malaysian Tamilians, so it’s a more meaningful film for Rajini”
An interesting Facebook post goes on length to detail one hundred years of ignominy suffered by Malaysian born Tamilians, and that Kabali, in its 152 minutes, has showcased that beautifully. As much as I like Pa. Ranjith’s moviemaking, I’m pressing the buzzer of disagreement here. Let’s bring out Rajini’s checklist.
A. Did he need to be the voice of people? Yes
B. Does he manage to annihilate the wily and the vicious? Yes
C. Did he climb his way up the ladder and into the hearts of the people within the blink of an eye? Yes!
And there’s all your Rajini movies from the last two decades. Did you miss that in Kabali? Not at all!
Director Pa Ranjith at success meet of 'Kabali'So Rajini, after all, did not fold his crusader cloak and hide it under his bed. However, I have to say that Pa. Ranjith’s hints did not go unnoticed.
A fleeting glimpse of My Father Baliah, a speedy history of Tamil uprising amid Asian racism in which the director has carefully plugged a few poignant moments from history—the revolt staged by the rubber workers council, increasing drug issues, the no-jobs-for-Malays problem because of increasing migrants, second and third up to fifth generation Indians living there.
He also played up his politics when Rajini refused to wear anything but a well-polished suit complete with a tie, whispering to one of his partners that 'there are too many details behind Gandhi’s dhoti and Ambedkar’s suit'. Radhika Apte asking him to not remove the suit even at gunpoint says much.
Rajinikanth and Radhika Apte in Kabali.And finally when Rajini yells Yengada engala vazha vitteenga... (When in the world did you let us live?), with the stark implication of a subversive history, we think of every other country where minorities face problems. It wasn’t to say that we did not hear him, it was just that all the inevitable commercial noise buried those precious line in a debris of imminent gunshots.
And we did not miss the final clasp of the devil, when Rajini is insulted in the name of class (maybe caste as well). And the grand finale that is meant to tell you, “it’s not all veiled under a commercial blanket” signaling that it’s as real as it can get.
It’s not that we don’t see Ranjith trying, but he’s letting his own story be sabotaged by the formulaic don fights. It’s as though he’s hurriedly pinning up a few images as the backdrop of a rather clichéd don story, the impact of which is fleeting.
End result—no Rajini action, no meaningful cinema. It’s a collision of two entirely different genres that suffered a high number of casualty.
AK instance 3
Comment: “Of course it had to have some commercial element, it couldn’t afford to look like a documentary”
Agreed. But how do you relate to the before interval shot where Rajini is fired at three times and by the time you gulp down the tea, he’s up challenging the dons? It’s just a question of the proportion of the fantastic measured against the ‘core story’. And clearly, the fantastic looms large over the genuineness of the script. Did Attakathi and Madras spell documentary? Didn’t they capture director Ranjith’s mindscape astutely while running a realistic story?
AK instance 4
Comment: This one particularly stings. “As such, Superstar can hardly act, so it’s okay if he didn’t have to exercise his performer’s instincts too much” (which technically endorses a shabby screenplay).
You can follow it up with a know-it-all guffaw and you’ll be close to sounding arguably ridiculous. That this man cannot act is the favorite slogan of those who have seen less of him. It’s easy to fling this on his face since he uses his charisma and style more to his benefit than evoke his ability as an emotive performer.
Kabaleeshwaran wears his John Lennon shades from the word go. The first time he takes them off is when he’s caught in an illusory scene, where he sees his wife. In another such instance, when asked a question about his wife, he takes off his shades and freezes a moment between memory and being. Pauses matter. Timing is everything.
If that did nothing to you, thanks to a badly narrated story, roll back a few years and no one needs to prompt you to stop short when you see the Rajinikanth in Thalapathy. Go past forward further, and you’ll find the famous Mullum Malarum. Seen the recreation of the Hindi Golmal in Thillu Mullu? You’d be amused by Rajinikanth’s effortlessness, the very trait seized by director K. Balachander with whom he’s created one too many memorable characters. But I’m tired of people pointing at a few of the chosen films to ‘prove’ that he can indeed ‘act’. Met his easy humor? Followed his meticulous intonations for effect that could’ve taken the punch right out had they been rendered flat? And is there just one brand of acting?
As for writer Manu Joseph renouncing the fabricated brand of urbane Rajini fanaticism and equating a badly stereotyped (non-existent) bride to Kamal Haasan, all the while painting a very amusing picture of his mother flicking a cigarette up in the air and landing it in her mouth, (curiouser and curiouser) all I want for him is a pair of windshield wipers to clear the haze.
