Vijay and Atlee's Theri, like no other recent Tamil movie has highly polarized opinions on whether it is worth watching. Despite what some reviews had to say, I was pleasantly surprised by how it worked well as a masala potboiler, surprisingly an old school one at that. But Theri it is not without its problems. Theri begins with back to back introductions of two time lines (of Joseph Kuruvilla and Deputy Commissioner Vijaykumar), which front loads it with double fluff. I did not think much of Nainika's role. The usual cognitive dissonance associated with processing Amy Jackson in a Tamil film such as thinking of her as a local woman, seeing her lips move when she speaks, listening to the dialogue and putting this all together in your mind is quite daunting. In Theri, be prepared to additionally read the subtitles for her Malayalam dialogues. I liked it better when Theri flashed back into Vijay Kumar's story. First, it was a welcome relief to see Vijay without that hairdo. Second, instead of Nainika/Amy Jackson, we get much better actors in Radhika/Samantha playing much better roles.
In comparison to Thuppaki/Kaththi, Theri on the surface seems like an inferior product. There is little demonstration of craft in direction. Take the initial fight scene when the begging racket is busted. There is no relationship between the actors and the vehicles driven in the background, the blocking among actors is primitive, the location is generic and the whole scene screams film studio/city. In comparison, Thuppaki's bus bomb blast and the ensuing action seems like a classic. You are at least convinced that the action is happening in Bombay and is disrupting another busy day. Thuppaki and Theri have the same producer, but much different production values. Or take the scene where they conclude that the missing woman has not walked past a point. Myskkin would have at least shown you around by making a constable walk from Point A to Point B. Here all deductions and conclusions happen over dialogue.
But that is because, Theri harks back to an older school of Tamil masala film making; a school that predates modern Tamil masala movies that are content to play it cool and would be too embarrassed to emotionally manipulate an audience. In that regard it is a fine film, and its quite unfair to make a comparison to Thuppaki/Kaththi. Plus, it is refreshing, because they don't make them here anymore. You get a preview of what's in store during the first half, with the kids at the hospital or the final moments of the rape victim. When was the last time a mainstream Tamil movie even try to make an audience shed a tear or two? Atlee deserves credit for operating with restraint (whereas Bala would launch an army of Dementors at you) on a genre, where it is easy go overboard. Mindless brutality is a must in old school masala, in order to push the audience over an edge, for that would only justify the masala hero's cathartic revenge, which would not otherwise work in the face of rational thought. Atlee manages to achieve a balance by cutting to the aftermath of brutality, in most cases, without actually showing them happen. On the flip side, the characters don't actively drive the action forward during the first half, which is one of the things modern masala movies fuss about (The other thing they fuss about is doing that in style). The screenplay takes the characters to the aftermath of brutal violence or even the violent retribution for brutal violence, after some water has flown under the bridge.
After playing it cool in Thuppaki and Kaththi, it is a return to old school for Vijay who manages to do the heavy lifting that is required to make the emotional scenes work. As a Vijay fan, I am somewhat blind to the rough edges in his performance, and they do exist here mainly due to the genre, but overall it is a good return to form (your mileage may vary) after a tepid Puli. 'Motta' Rajendran gets the movies best line - the one right after the interval where he explains why they moved to Kerala to setup a bakery there. Collaborating for the second time after 'Raja Rani', he might well be Atlee's favorite actor. He gets a make over every time Vijay gets one, and in the epilogue his new look is just as impressive as the hero's. Every body is a "baby" here. May be that's a wink at Arya. Radhika brings a wholeness to the proceeding, and completes a very small family. I am not sure why - may be Tamil films have stopped providing an explanation or the Tamil society has moved on, or it is Radhika's presence, you probably not notice the missing father. I did notice the missing father, but that's only because the biggest epiphany after watching 'Naanum Rowdy Thaan', was how I never noticed Radhika character's missing husband until long after watching the movie, even though the other main character acutely feels the loss of her parents. After writing strong female characters for 'Raja Rani', Atlee has a reputation to keep, and he meets it by making the old school masala heroine a little less of a damsel in distress. Post a string of arm candy roles in Kaththi, Anjaan and Paththu Endrathukkule, Samantha finally plays a character that is conceived with a modicum of respect. During closes up, Samantha leaves you wondering if she is in wincing in pain after some body hastily patched a broken jaw, that is once again threatening to fall off her face. During long shots, you wonder how someone with those chubby cheeks could have such a slender waist. In the two profile shots that create contrasting moods, Samantha seems to reclaim some acting form from NEPV. Vijay is also in his element during those sequences.
In comparison to Thuppaki/Kaththi, Theri on the surface seems like an inferior product. There is little demonstration of craft in direction. Take the initial fight scene when the begging racket is busted. There is no relationship between the actors and the vehicles driven in the background, the blocking among actors is primitive, the location is generic and the whole scene screams film studio/city. In comparison, Thuppaki's bus bomb blast and the ensuing action seems like a classic. You are at least convinced that the action is happening in Bombay and is disrupting another busy day. Thuppaki and Theri have the same producer, but much different production values. Or take the scene where they conclude that the missing woman has not walked past a point. Myskkin would have at least shown you around by making a constable walk from Point A to Point B. Here all deductions and conclusions happen over dialogue.
But that is because, Theri harks back to an older school of Tamil masala film making; a school that predates modern Tamil masala movies that are content to play it cool and would be too embarrassed to emotionally manipulate an audience. In that regard it is a fine film, and its quite unfair to make a comparison to Thuppaki/Kaththi. Plus, it is refreshing, because they don't make them here anymore. You get a preview of what's in store during the first half, with the kids at the hospital or the final moments of the rape victim. When was the last time a mainstream Tamil movie even try to make an audience shed a tear or two? Atlee deserves credit for operating with restraint (whereas Bala would launch an army of Dementors at you) on a genre, where it is easy go overboard. Mindless brutality is a must in old school masala, in order to push the audience over an edge, for that would only justify the masala hero's cathartic revenge, which would not otherwise work in the face of rational thought. Atlee manages to achieve a balance by cutting to the aftermath of brutality, in most cases, without actually showing them happen. On the flip side, the characters don't actively drive the action forward during the first half, which is one of the things modern masala movies fuss about (The other thing they fuss about is doing that in style). The screenplay takes the characters to the aftermath of brutal violence or even the violent retribution for brutal violence, after some water has flown under the bridge.
After playing it cool in Thuppaki and Kaththi, it is a return to old school for Vijay who manages to do the heavy lifting that is required to make the emotional scenes work. As a Vijay fan, I am somewhat blind to the rough edges in his performance, and they do exist here mainly due to the genre, but overall it is a good return to form (your mileage may vary) after a tepid Puli. 'Motta' Rajendran gets the movies best line - the one right after the interval where he explains why they moved to Kerala to setup a bakery there. Collaborating for the second time after 'Raja Rani', he might well be Atlee's favorite actor. He gets a make over every time Vijay gets one, and in the epilogue his new look is just as impressive as the hero's. Every body is a "baby" here. May be that's a wink at Arya. Radhika brings a wholeness to the proceeding, and completes a very small family. I am not sure why - may be Tamil films have stopped providing an explanation or the Tamil society has moved on, or it is Radhika's presence, you probably not notice the missing father. I did notice the missing father, but that's only because the biggest epiphany after watching 'Naanum Rowdy Thaan', was how I never noticed Radhika character's missing husband until long after watching the movie, even though the other main character acutely feels the loss of her parents. After writing strong female characters for 'Raja Rani', Atlee has a reputation to keep, and he meets it by making the old school masala heroine a little less of a damsel in distress. Post a string of arm candy roles in Kaththi, Anjaan and Paththu Endrathukkule, Samantha finally plays a character that is conceived with a modicum of respect. During closes up, Samantha leaves you wondering if she is in wincing in pain after some body hastily patched a broken jaw, that is once again threatening to fall off her face. During long shots, you wonder how someone with those chubby cheeks could have such a slender waist. In the two profile shots that create contrasting moods, Samantha seems to reclaim some acting form from NEPV. Vijay is also in his element during those sequences.
The second half is where real masala moments are actually built up. Take the scene where Vijaykumar meets Mithra's family. Atlee manages to build up to the moment with a bit about Vijaykumar having never fired a gun on duty, and letting a bullet break through the frame, just when the scene is heading towards a happy ending. This is old school masala done well. Watching the trailer you can make a guess about Mithra's fate, but the way this scene plays, keeps you guessing. The acting is good, the conversation is interesting, and even though you have an ominous feeling that this could be Mithra's last moment, unlike the earlier scene at the cafe, the rhythm of the conversation keeps you from guessing the exact moment at which a bullet rips through her. Even a heavy weight like Radhika is swatted like a fly. It is rare, that a movie's best scene is one in which the villain wins, but the scene when Vanamamalai points a gun to the little girl's temple is the only time I cared for Nivedita, despite the knowledge that the girl is going to live. Mahendran is sure to pick up an acting award or two. This entire sequence is an effective use of shock, and ends with a perfect old school masala moment between the leads. Shortly after you get another shock when a school bus veers off into an unintended amphibious journey.
The idea of a cop ghost/ghost cop going on a revenge trip is interesting, executed decently, and on its own might make an interesting movie. But Atlee is content to push fast forward button, as the film almost transforms into a mix of modern masala - trying to rush proceedings to a no frills ending and a Shankar style an eye for an eye social justice potboiler, where everybody gets his revenge. The media tracking voice of the people, or a recently bereaved young son pays back the small loan, they both scream Shankar. There is also a bit of bigotry that is in poor taste, when a minor Brahmin character is slapped or so I think. All you could see was someone providing a callous answer in Brahmin slang, and a jarring cut to blood on the character's face. May be it is upon the Censor Board's insistence or it is keeping with the first half's choice of cutting to the aftermath without showing the action, I don't why there is a jarring cut. The scene has no utility, and I see no point in keeping it except to tell the whole world about your little bigotry. In Anniyan, Shankar manages to kill/maim almost every male character not established as Brahmin, except for Manobala and Nasser's characters. In fact, both the characters Anniyan exempts from the wrath of Garuda Puranam, happen to be Brahmins. Moral of the story: if you are going to express your bigotry in a movie, embed it into the movie's DNA, or at least be subtle. Be like Shankar.
