(Ranjith hasn’t used Rajinikanth for what he brings to the table as an actor so much as what he stands for as a star.) There’s a terrific visual of Kaala striding grimly through a carpet of fire, but there’s also a character named Shivaji Rao Gaekwad who gets killed. This stress on the collective results in the eradication (in a way) of the individual - never has Rajinikanth, who plays Kaala, been used this way, as practically a symbol. The sardonic reply: “How many bullets do you have?” His associate asks if he should shoot them down. The villain’s car is blocked by angry masses. The pre-interval scene emphasises this distance from routine heroism (though, like most other ideas in the film, it sounds better on paper than it plays on screen). It’s about a people’s movement, where if the hero falls, someone else will rush to take his place and continue his work. The subtext is absolutely revolutionary for a film with a megastar like Rajinikanth. (Ranjith revises it even further, by making his Ravana the father of four sons, one of whom undergoes a “ vanavasam”.) In a stretch towards the end (inexplicably staged in Hindi, with subtitles that are sure to be overlooked by many), we are told that each time a head of Ravana’s fell, a new one would take its place. There’s a terrific visual of Kaala striding grimly through a carpet of fire, but there’s also a character named Shivaji Rao Gaekwad who gets killedīut the revised- Ramayana angle makes Kaala very different. A “social issue” is so often reduced to an easy target, so the hero can deliver clap-worthy punch dialogues about exploitation. After all, Tamil cinema has made villains of soft drinks manufacturing MNCs and organ-trafficking gangs. This sounds like a ripe premise for a masala movie, with the land grabber as the villain. Kaala begins with an animated prologue (oh, how Ranjith loves his scene-setting prologues!) about the urban poor in Indian cities, and zooms in on Mumbai, where slums spread out like the shadows of skyscrapers. In Kabali, the protagonist spoke of how Tamil labourers transformed a region of forests into present-day Malaysia, and were now being driven out of the country they helped build. In Madras, it was a wall fought over by political parties. Ranjith has always been invested in real estate and issues of ownership. Hence the colour reversal in Kaala: the hero wears black, the villain floats in a sea of white (which includes his clothes, his walls and even the upholstery in his living room).Īlso Read: Rajinikanth’s Kaala Puts The Spotlight Back On Merchandising Not only did Rama become a bit of a bad guy (and a racist), the dark-skinned Ravana was reclaimed as something of a hero, whose kidnapping of Sita was simply an act of revenge for the cruelty Rama inflicted on his sister, Surpanakha. His Ramayana is the one from rationalist readings by intellectuals like Periyar (whose name is found on a road sign in Kaala), which also cast the epic in an Aryan vs. If Mani Ratnam looked at the Mahabharata, Ranjith takes his inspiration from the Ramayana - though not the traditional versions. In that respect, it must be said that Kaala is far more accomplished than Kabali - far more interesting as well. He wants his star to be the speaker through which he disburses his ideologies. Ranjith, however, is a far more political filmmaker, and unlike Mani Ratnam, he isn’t content to tell a story around his star. But because the story was a largely emotional one that spun variations on familiar beats - action, drama, relationships - the shoe fit. It came up when Mani Ratnam took the superstar on in Thalapathy. Tamil cinema has made villains of soft drinks manufacturing MNCs and organ-trafficking gangsĬan a filmmaker with a unique vision retain that uniqueness when the film stars a one-size-fits-all brand like Rajinikanth? This is not a new question.
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