“Jailer” – An experience that exhausted me

A request, or a word of caution, if you will. For those who believe Rajni’s “Jailer” is a come-back film for the veteran actor, or that the movie is a masterpiece worthy of the “superstar”, or that the nearly three-hour feature film has a structure, a theme, or even a story worth telling or not told before – then, I request that you stop reading right now. Because whatever I am about to write next will not be to your liking. I value your readership and acknowledge that not talking favorably about a Rajni film can be a touchy issue for you. If you choose to continue, please bear in mind that this is just my opinion, and doesn’t reflect others’ choices. You may have enjoyed the movie, or even wish to watch it once more, and I deeply respect that perspective no matter how I feel or think about the movie. However, I expect that you extend me the same courtesy. Thank you in advance, Having got this disclaimer out of the way, let me dive in.

I am for one, still recovering from the anguish of having lost $26.38 buying a ticket to a movie that I hoped, would have turned out to be slightly ( I didn’t set my expectation too high in the first place) better than the rabid fare movie makers have been doling out over the last 18 years under the name of a Rajnikanth starrer. ( My cut-off date for the last decent enough Rajni movie was P. Vasu’s “Chandramukhi”, which was a remake of an iconic Malayalam film, but somehow in this movie, Vasu managed to eke out some Rajni charm without seeming ridiculous ). I have said this before in a few essays in the past, and I am saying it again. I have grown up watching Rajni movies, his unique histrionics, and the earthly heroism he brought to the screen. He was my Hero. Countless times, I have fantasized in the dark about being Rajinikanth and beating up the villains. None of the other heroes ever took his place in my childhood enactments. Amitabh sometimes did, but nobody else. There was something about him, against all odds, that was very attractive. He was dark, not particularly handsome ( in the sense that movie stars were expected to be), he had that scruffy look with unruly hair always falling over his forehead, which he would push back with one swift jerk of his neck or stylishly caress it back to its place, his tamil intonation was anything but correct, but charming in its own way, and most importantly, there was always an element of decency in his films. Even violence was cute in Rajni’s movies, and so were his romantic flirtations with the ladies. His action sequences were Impossible and gravity-defying, definitely, but never had the raw feeling of blood and gore and flesh associated with violence. Families could watch a rajni movie together, knowing well, that their kids would enjoy the movie without making them uncomfortable.

The decisive shift in Rajni’s characterization and the way he began to be cast in movies happened with “Baasha”, the 1995, Suresh Krissna blockbuster. Rajni was in his early forties at that time, an age when maturity ripens. His face had acquired a manly glow, had enough natural hair on his head, and his expressions had a power and precision that was impactful. Baasha had him play dual personalities. One is docile, humble, and forgiving; and the other is the antithesis of the former – aggressive, angry, self-righteous, and quick to seek retribution. That iconic scene in the community courtyard towards the middle of the film when Manickam, a common and law-abiding autorickshaw driver is forced to bring forth his fierce alter ego – Baasha, a personality whose eyes simmer with anger and whose muscles reeks of violence, is the defining moment of Rajni’s career. In that same scene, towards the end, after pummeling the troublemakers into submission, Rajni is captured by the camera in a confident posture flanked by four bodyguards, with a look of authority on his face illuminated by the glare of a single lamp from above, to be quickly followed by the swift shuffle of his lower arms, first the right then the left ( accompanied by background music which resembles the swishing sound of an arrow in flight) that eventually come to rest around his waist with just the tips of his fingers – thumb and the forefinger – stylishly poised on either side. A pose, at once, manly, heroic, defiant, and as nonchalant as it can get. As intermission flashes on the screen, he utters a one-liner in a strong manly voice that roughly translated goes like this “A single word from me has the weight of a thousand repetitions” – a credo, a slogan, a mantra that Rajni fans and Filmmakers have endlessly tried to recreate in every film since then.

The nineties were Rajni’s golden years. He was not only at his best during that period, but had the chance to work under some of the most entertaining directors in Tamil cinema. They knew how to harness and showcase the power of Rajni within the tapestry of commercial cinema. Good entertaining stories, scintillating music, meaningful comedy tracks, and good action sequences provided wholesome entertainment to Rajni fans. “Muthu”, which came out in 1996, was the. last film in which Rajini shined as a star performer. Again a double role, one of an elderly and magnanimous landlord who gives away his fortune and retires to the hills, and the other of a poor boy, the landlord’s son, fated to work as a servant without knowing his lineage. The double identity seemed to work for him. It suited his personal life as well. In the 1990s Rajni’s spiritual pilgrimages and mysterious absences added to his aura of a man who lived a double life, one for the public as a mass entertainer, and the other, as an intensely personal man who would every once in a while make enigmatic pronouncements that would throw the public into debates and discussions. In Baba, Rajni pushed the limits of this double persona by proclaiming himself an avatar. The movie was the biggest flop of his career, and ironically, none of the films that followed Baba made any impact, except Chandramukhi. “Jailer” is a variation of the Baasha theme without any of the finesse and vigor of that movie.

After watching “Annathe”, his last film, I swore never to pay for a ticket to a Rajni movie ever again. It was the nadir of his career. The film made a mockery of the aesthetic sense of the audience and its sensibilities. I broke my vow yesterday. I had some time on my hands, and the movie was showing at a theatre close by. I decided to take a chance hoping against hope, of course, that this film will offer something different, a fresh casting of Rajni in the twilight of his career and life. But NO! From the very first scene, when the chief villain shuts three men, who are supposedly informants, in a container and dissolves them in sulphuric acid to the last scene when justice – in Jailer’s terms – is done, the movie is a series of loosely tied sequences, inept screenplay and almost nothing that comes close to a story of substance. No character in the film is given time to breathe or develop, including the hero himself. Poor Ramyakrishnan! She ruled the screen in Padaiyappa, here she is barely seen, and when she does, she hesistatitingly gets to speak a few words. Half the time she is terrified, or covered in blood spilled by her husband or his associates, and busy using paper towels to wipe it off her face. What a waste of such wonderful talent! A quarter of the movie is spent in slow motion sequences which happens whenever Rajni sits, stands, moves, or sneezes, and the other half is spent decapitating people. Name the weapon and mode, it is made available for violence. I have seen some really violent films in my career as a film buff, but very few show so much meaningless violence. I was shocked at how this film was even found suitable for all ages, given the scant respect it shows for the human body and its dignity. Tiger Muthuvel Pandian – that is the name of Rajni’s character in the movie, rips out a man’s ear in the jail with a batting a eyelid because the poor man talks back to him, and our jailer justifies the act to the audience.

Rajni looks jaded and worn out. Emotions that came naturally to him during his prime years, today’s seem labored, out of tune, and bland. Fortunately, there is no heroine to dance around with. However, Tamanna does the honors of fulfilling the imperative need in commercial cinema for a titillating dance number, and her dance steps have gone viral. Going viral is the litmus test of success today, and apparently, Tammanah is very proud of her moves. We can excuse her pride considering that she has no other role in the movie except for this dance number and a couple of other scenes where she looks literally and figuratively lost. Anirudh’s music is loud enough for the on-screen chaos, To be fair to him, the music suits the film. And what were Shivrajkumar and Mohanlal doing in the film? what were their roles, I don’t know. I may have to watch the film again more closely. We know that Rajni is a well-respected and well-liked man in the industry for his spotless personal conduct, philanthropy, and friendly nature, but that doesn’t mean that talented actors should embarrass themselves in his movies. Performing a cameo role is one thing, but thrusting oneself into it is awkward. Mohanlal bashing a man’s head with a baseball club in one of the two scenes he appears in? what sense does that make? Nelson, the young director of this film, in one of his recent interviews, was candid about the fact that he set out to make an entertainer and to showcase Rajni in a manner that his hardcore fans will enjoy, and the movie makes money. The second objective is certainly met. In the first week of its opening, “Jailer” has crossed 5 Million USD in collections. The Rajni effect is still on. Thankfully, no one is losing money on this movie. The movie industry needs to rake in good money to sustain, and movies like these can help the cause. That’s the only saving grace here.

I feel sad writing this review, honestly. I wish I could stand on the top of the roof and shout that this is the best Rajni film to have come out in the last few years. But, unfortunately, I cannot, because I am not in that kind of place right now where fanatical adoration of someone or something blinds me to reality. The reality is that Rajni will never be allowed to do anything else but this. It is difficult for him to shed the firmly entrenched cinema persona that has worked well for him for decades to do anything else, and the tragedy is that as long as he continues acting, people will keep milking that persona. Even if he wishes to break away from the stranglehold of that image, it is nearly impossible to do so now. Perhaps, who knows, Rajni likes to be in this position. After all, who will not want to be in such a position? When just seeing him on screen can push people into ecstasy, what does it matter, whether he performs or not, what does it matter if his movies are dumb and meaningless entertainers churned out by money-hungry moviemakers?

There were about twenty-five of us in the theater yesterday. A few families with kids were present. As we were filing out of the auditorium after the movie ended, a young boy, who I assume was watching his first Rajni movie in his life, looked up at his parents and asked ” Mom, How was this man ever a Hero? He is so funny.” The parents looked at each other and laughed aloud ” Oh, you should have seen him when he was young. You were not born then”. The boy didn’t seem to care much. I understand why. To him, what he saw on screen yesterday is the reality. For those of us, who have known Rajni for more than forty years as an actor, an entertainer, and a superstar, we find it hard to let go of the Rajni we once adored and enjoyed. In every film we wish to see the incarnation of the Rajni that we are used to. I think it is time, at least for me, that I accepted the reality that the Rajni magic is over. If Jailer is the best we can come up with, I will not regret my judgment.

Please watch “Jailer” to form your opinions. What you have read is just mine, and I confess, once again, I am a hardcore Rajnikanth fan, and I will still continue to revisit his older movies, but newer ones? – perhaps not anymore, unless there is a miraculous change in the Rajni script, which seems a remote possibility at this time.