Okay, let me get this out of the way: I went to see Mersal because I had heard that Vadivelu was in it. Thirty seconds into the film, I felt like I had received my money’s worth. He doesn’t get a full fledged comic role or a parallel track, just a regular supporting role with the odd zinger (the one about digital india is a hoot). While he doesn’t bring the house down every time we see him, just Vadivelu back on screen feels good.
The film itself isn’t great cinema, or great masala, but it isn’t a train wreck either. It’s okay in parts, a bloated mess in others, and by far the most entertaining aspect for me was the easter egg hunt (i.e., looking for political statements in the dialogue — not that there was much hunting required per se) .
I am more amused than annoyed by the current brouhaha surrounding the film and its comments on GST, digital india and what not. Some “factoids” mentioned in Vijay’s big speech are not quite accurate. (Alcohol, for instance, is taxed pretty heavily.) But the sound and fury against the film has only served to drive up its popularity: if Vijay is getting a percentage of the gross, and does take the plunge in the near future, the BJP can take credit for at least partially bankrolling his political career. (To be honest, the overheated reactions of one of Tamil Nadu’s BJP leaders reminds me of a story told in Thani Oruvan — I will leave you to look up the reference for yourself.)
But let us set aside what has been happening off screen and focus on the film for a bit.
While the plot has pretty strong shades of Aboorva Sagotharargal, it is Shankar’s filmography and cinematic sensibilities that I was more often reminded of. While AS was fashioned as a revenge drama, this one wants to make bigger points about cleaning up a corrupt system (in this case, healthcare), and Vijay is the vigilante who does the job. The reference to his mentor is even called out explicitly in the dialogue.
Another example that springs to mind: the background score in one of the film’s flashback scenes sounds eerily similar to the one that precedes Pachai kiligal in Shankar’s Indian, and plays over a similar context (the flashback details a grave injustice done to one of the characters, itself a Shankar trope).
The dogged cop on the trail of the vigilante is there, too. Except in this case, this character might as well have been part of the furniture for all the work he gets to do. But compared to the “romantic subplots”, he practically gets a plum role. Kajal Agarwal could’ve been left out of the film entirely. Samantha has one scene involving rose milk that just about sputters to life in contrast, then nothing. (On the other hand, the Nithya Menen character is a joy to behold. Thirty seconds into her entry, I found myself smiling. Her chemistry with Vijay has a lot to do with why a long flashback late in the film still feels light on its feet.)
This is not to say that the film is just a pastiche of Shankar-isms and thin characterisations. While I didn’t care much for Raja Rani, Atlee has, over the course of his two Vijay films, shown that he understands how to craft a good masala moment, even if he sometimes doesn’t know when to stop. A scene involving an Indian doctor saving a French woman, for instance, is well conceived but undone by its ending.
In some other cases, he gets it exactly right. There’s a scene involving the death of a little girl that has all the moral outrage of a Shankar flashback, but without the wretched excess. One where Vijay describes how he met and married Nithya Menen is outstandingly well done. (I suspect it would have been just as good, had he toned down the depiction of the C-section a bit, but I see what he was going for.)
What he also understands is that the villain needs to be big enough for a film of this nature. While SJ Suryaah might not seem like the obvious choice, he turns out to be a good one. Since Iraivi reintroduced him as a character actor, he seems to be having a lot more fun on screen. He was creepier in Spyder than he is here (and that is more a function of the characterization than his acting), and his mannered brand of villainy brings back memories of Thengai Srinivasan, but he doesn’t torpedo the film.
As for Vijay, well… when you sign Vijay, you get Vijay. It must be admitted, though, that while the man sticks to a template, he seems to have upgraded his template since Thuppakki or so. The odd Bairavaa notwithstanding, it seems to be working for him. He gets to do more speechifying in this film than usual, which I suppose is a result of someone (the writers, director, star, who knows?) wanting to shoehorn as much loaded dialogue as possible within the running time. There’s enough and more about the state of our nation’s healthcare, but there’s also a line about urban development on top of erstwhile water bodies, and a reference to jallikattu, and a nod to MGR, and a couple of references to Rajnikanth (not just the Thalapathy bit)… you get the idea.
Had the makers gone easy on the political commentary, paid a bit more attention to the script, and trimmed the bloated bits, they might have ended up with a shorter, better film, rather than an election rally with a plot. I for one would’ve liked to see that movie.
ps: I wonder if in fact Vijay has no political aspirations, and decided to just f*** with us. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll upgrade my opinion of the film.
pps: The first film where I noticed Vijay making some sort of allusion to his political ambitions was, um, Sura. Make of that what you will.