Whenever god takes on anyone, the battle is usually, almost unfairly skewed. That’s why the coolest idea in Karuppu is when god is challenged not to exercise his super-powers in enforcing justice. The question Baby Kannan (RJ Balaji) seems to pose is this: if Karuppu (Suriya) can use his superpowers, an unfair advantage over humans, why should Baby himself prioritise fairness in seeking justice? But I suspect I got way more excited by this idea than the film itself. You see, taking this idea seriously would mean showing genuine interest in humanising Karuppu, and the film doesn’t seem to see him as anything more than a symbol for the divine stardom we bestow upon our actors.

Think about it: Don’t our star vehicles too begin with people begging to be saved, only for it to culminate in the mass introduction of a hero? Our stars are gods in such stories. So, briefly, I did get fascinated when Karuppu accepts the challenge to exist as a human. Now, you’ll see the hardship and the suffering. Now, you’ll know the complications of following protocol and procedure in the pursuit of justice. But for all of this to happen, characters ought to feel more like people, and less like devices serving momentary highs. Yes, characters are devices to an extent, but the challenge, not unlike the one Baby Kannan throws to Karuppu, is to ensure they don’t feel functional, that they feel truly alive.

For a while, Binu and her father (Indrans) feel like that, as we see them being exploited by an unforgiving system where, as someone cleverly remarks, the punishment is not what you receive in court, but the fact that you are in court in the first place (the court’s structural damage is a nice metaphor for the corruption). And yet, why does Binu’s ‘liver problem’ register only as manipulative information? She faints whenever the plot needs to be moved forward, vomits when the screenplay needs to remind you… The father’s big emotional breakdown, upon learning about his daughter, ought to shatter you (and I cry so easily in films). He screams, ‘Sethu poyi’, but the grief never turns visceral. Karuppu’s own attempts to live as a human seem performative, like his heart isn’t truly in understanding these beings that pray to him for favours.

As for RJ Balaji’s Baby Kannan, there are moments where he threatens to turn charmingly complex. At one point, he seems to argue that he too is a victim of the system, that nothing moves in the court without palms being greased (like that Indian Manorama scene). In fact, I thought of Indian again when Baby taunts Karuppu for not saving a life on account of his integrity. But the difference, of course, is that Shankar’s legendary ‘commercial film’ forced you to sit with devastating emotional consequences. Karuppu has the premise for something as complicated, as heroic and human, but this film, about corruption in the justice system, is itself corrupted by its desperation to engineer ‘theatre moments’. That’s its form of bribe.

That, of course, means nostalgia references. Sivaji. Ghajini. Aaytha Ezhuthu. Leo. Singam. The list grows. A flaming red portal evokes Doctor Strange. Baby’s visiting card, Better Call Saul. That divine flourish towards the end (a terrific look for Suriya, by the way) brings Kantara to mind. A two-wheeler and a flaming man swinging chains around people… Ghost Rider? A stunt shot where bodies freeze mid-fall to evoke divine imagery… Salaar? And that time-freeze idea that appears once and is never used again?

Look, the homages, by themselves, are not the issue. But in a film with a solid premise, they keep coming in the way of storytelling. Hence, all my questions. What good is a deity under whose watch an innocent woman dies? Preethi (Trisha), briefly channelling my own frustrations with the screenplay, even asks Karuppu why he allows so much suffering under his watch, only for the film to respond with the usual rebuttal: ‘Humans must help themselves.’ If so, why are you here now? Why does the screenplay completely forget about Binu and her father after establishing them as the emotional spine? Why does Baby himself oscillate wildly between victim of the system, frightened comic relief, manipulative conman, and loud, violent villain? And where exactly does he even get the courage to repeatedly challenge… God? I mean…?

One moment I genuinely liked has two thieves confessing out of sympathy for Binu, an act of decency denied to her by both the police and the judiciary. But even this tiny patch of moral grey sits awkwardly in Karuppu, that’s all about black-and-white morality. Karuppu, you take your pick, could mean Suriya’s character, the black robes of lawyers, or the dark state of justice. But the film’s ultimate solution, god overpowering everyone, once again resorts to the argument of authority, which was the problem in the first place, no? Even a line like ‘doing good is an addiction’ lands only like a punch dialogue searching for applause.

While Sai Abhyankkar will deservedly receive praise for the elevation tracks (of which there are several), I particularly enjoyed that moody track that accompanies the exploitation of Binu and her father. Visually too, the film has some signatures: the reds, the silhouettes, the textures of flame and shadow. And Suriya, unsurprisingly, looks impossibly cool throughout. I only wish all his charisma, all those flying bad guys, had been built on stronger emotional foundations and more concerted thematic writing.

If this were another mindless elevation film without any promise, I might not have cared. But Karuppu reaches for heavy ideas: the justice system, divinity, corruption, survival inside exploitative institutions… Alas, all of this is just smoke through which arrives a star dressed as a deity. Not just any deity, but a deity with a rage tantrum, it seems. Karuppu loses a challenge and almost immediately, happily, goes back on his promise not to use his powers. At some point, Baby really should have pointed out that Karuppu is no better at keeping his word than the rest of humanity. And perhaps more importantly, even asked: if Karuppu requires chillies, rituals, and prayers before arriving to help, much like lawyers and judges require biriyani and bribes, then how different is the system above from the one below?