“Indrajith may be in a film inspired by the best of Hollywood, but his courting style is all from the cesspool of Tamil cinema.”
“So, why did an entire generation get hooked to it? Well, that’s a question I suspect both Anirudh and Dhanush are tired of trying to answer, and perhaps trying to figure out too.”
“If somebody put a gun to my head and forced me to come up with a one-line story that included the words, ‘Sandals, girl, astrologer, Syria, father’, I couldn’t have come up with something as outlandish.”
“His wife’s in danger, some people have been killed, and he’s on the way. Another masala film director would announce the arrival with loud background music, and bring you the hero in slo-mo. But Vinoth isn’t done teasing. He gives you the heroic arrival, yes, but not of Theeran. He brings somebody else to equally rousing reception: an adult German Shepherd.”
The adulation, the rooting, the selfless connection was always reserved for the hero. The heroine could disappear after the cursory duet or two, but should the hero come into danger, all hell would break loose. BUT. This hasn’t been the case in recent Nayanthara films.
The mother sits in her room, seething, her eyes red in rage, and threatens to kill herself. Why? She’s just seen a selfie of the couple at a recent wedding, and spoken with the girl’s friend. And yet, she reacts like she’s just caught them naked in a motel in the middle of some dark sexual experiments.
There’s a lingering sense of guilt on the faces of most of these government employees, every time Mathi asks them a tough question. Their heads hang down in shame, but it seems they are too entrenched in the system to feel emotionally about the impact of their jobs any more. Mathi doesn’t get this. She just isn’t wired that way.
“If Udhayanidhi wanted to be a larger-than-life hero, he would be chasing thugs. But here, he is chased by them.”
Milind Rau’s Aval is perhaps the closest a Tamil horror film has ever come to being deserving of that much-coveted label, ‘Hollywood standard’