Mohan Raja is a man of optimism — his heroine, Mrinalini (who everybody keeps calling Mirunalini), has the word ‘positivity’ tattooed on her forearm. You can see why she’d be interested in Arivu.
“Even that legendary heroine of the 90s — Khushboo — didn’t feature as long as a heroine. Trisha’s career, in terms of longevity at least, is an achievement.”
“It’s a chat that is supposed to set you up for a potentially romantic development later on. She responds, “When you look at some people, you just know they will need help for a lifetime.” He smiles as though revelling in a compliment — not the insult it seems to be.”
“Aruvi’s almost seraphic, almost supernal in her ability to see the good in the bad. The problem is, it leaves you wondering if she can even spot bad. You can call her a naïve fool. Or you could call her a saint, which perhaps is why it’s gut-wrenching to see her break down eventually.”
“It’s important not to confuse the real Sivakarthikeyan with the actor. For instance, I don’t smoke and drink. I don’t chase women. I despise violence. But I cannot tell a director that I won’t do those things in a film. On Remo, one Tamil publication wrote, Remo samudhaayaththin saabakedu. Really? I understand giving me advice, but why would people try to stop a film from doing well?”
So, the big question is, does Richie play Jesus? The film certainly hints at that. One shot, for instance, shows him with his back turned at you. In the foreground is a cross.
I told Gautham he’d find suicide preferable to making a bilingual: Nivin
Muthaiya doesn’t just stop with lessons in science; he gives you some in morality too. “Aambalai aambalaikku love letter kuduthaa thappu.” “Oru ponnuku aathram vara koodadhu.” “Veliya poitu vara aambalaikku, pombala dhaan nalladhu kaththu kudukkanum.” It’s like whoever wrote the dialogues had just seen Padayappa.