Demigod deified
Rajinikanth needs to be commended for letting millennials like Subbaraj and music director Anirudh Ravichander give him the demigod treatment his fans have always needed
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Rajinikanth in Petta
Here’s a question you would never find at a pub quiz: what’s common between Tamil filmmakers like S Shankar, P Vasu, Pa Ranjith and Karthik Subbaraj? In the past 14 years or so, they have all tried to capture in a sleek bottle that human epitome of on-screen lightning: Rajinikanth. After Shankar’s Sivaji, Subbaraj’s recent Pongal release, Petta, provided me the most joyous experience of watching Rajinikanth in pristine form.
Rajinikanth needs to be commended for letting millennials like Subbaraj and music director Anirudh Ravichander give him the demigod treatment his fans have always needed. Subbaraj, a purveyor of brain-testing cinema, like Pizza, Jigarthanda and Iraivi, is a self-professed Rajini fanatic and this onscreen deification of the true blue demi-god of Indian cinema becomes an absolute joy, at least for a while. Every twitch of his ageing muscle hasn’t been celebrated this nicely in the longest time.
The film starts with mayhem in a college hostel in Darjeeling where Rajinikanth is the warden, and goons are being bashed to protect a student, Anwar (a strictly functional Sananth Reddy) from the henchmen of Singaaram (a genially venal Nawazuddin Siddiqui). The first half trots along entertainingly, thanks to Rajinikanth’s charming antics, Anirudh's chartbusting tracks like “Marana Mass” and “Ilamai Thirumbudhe” and Tirru’s exuberant cinematography. For once, there’s even a semblance of age-appropriate romance where Rajinikanth and Simran fall for each other at her pranic healing centre.
Bobby Simha as the rogue senior at the college proves to be the catalyst for quite a few hero-elevating scenes. Subbaraj never shies away from taking a liberal squeeze out of that much beloved lemon called “Rajini Sir”. All his trademark expressions, be it lightning quick reflexes or swagger-laden dialogue delivery, are available in abundance here. He dances and fights with unbridled elan. Props to Subbaraj for making Rajinikanth beat up a bunch of baddies with a nunchuck like a South Indian Bruce Lee.
Rajinikanth needs to be commended for letting millennials like Subbaraj and music director Anirudh Ravichander give him the demigod treatment his fans have always needed. Subbaraj, a purveyor of brain-testing cinema, like Pizza, Jigarthanda and Iraivi, is a self-professed Rajini fanatic and this onscreen deification of the true blue demi-god of Indian cinema becomes an absolute joy, at least for a while. Every twitch of his ageing muscle hasn’t been celebrated this nicely in the longest time.
The film starts with mayhem in a college hostel in Darjeeling where Rajinikanth is the warden, and goons are being bashed to protect a student, Anwar (a strictly functional Sananth Reddy) from the henchmen of Singaaram (a genially venal Nawazuddin Siddiqui). The first half trots along entertainingly, thanks to Rajinikanth’s charming antics, Anirudh's chartbusting tracks like “Marana Mass” and “Ilamai Thirumbudhe” and Tirru’s exuberant cinematography. For once, there’s even a semblance of age-appropriate romance where Rajinikanth and Simran fall for each other at her pranic healing centre.
Bobby Simha as the rogue senior at the college proves to be the catalyst for quite a few hero-elevating scenes. Subbaraj never shies away from taking a liberal squeeze out of that much beloved lemon called “Rajini Sir”. All his trademark expressions, be it lightning quick reflexes or swagger-laden dialogue delivery, are available in abundance here. He dances and fights with unbridled elan. Props to Subbaraj for making Rajinikanth beat up a bunch of baddies with a nunchuck like a South Indian Bruce Lee.
Rajinikanth in Petta