In one of the most compelling scenes of Thangalaan, the eponymous hero, previously seen clad only in a loincloth, arrives on horseback armed with a gun, dressed in a shirt, trousers, and suspenders to settle his debt with a covetous landlord and rescue his family from the clutches of slavery. This evocative sequence not only stands as arguably the best scene in the film but also seems to nod to Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained. Director Pa. Ranjith encapsulates the film’s core essence in this single powerful moment. Thangalaan abounds with such significant segments, powered by Ranjith’s unapologetically relevant politics and stellar performances. However, the question remains whether these episodes integrate seamlessly; the gleam often flickers intermittently.
Pa. Ranjith, distinguished by his expertise in filmmaking, employs tropes and metaphors to articulate his dissent against societal oppressions, setting him apart from contemporaries who employ the same medium to champion opposing ideologies. From walls in Madras, identity in Kabali, land in Kaala, pride in Sarpatta Parambarai, a slice of a field in Dhammam (Victim), to dialogues in Natchathiram Nagargiradhu, Ranjith confronts oppression head-on in Thangalaan.
Set in the Veppur village of North Arcot around 1850 CE, the narrative follows a tribe plagued by a rapacious landlord. In a desperate bid, Thangalaan (Vikram) and a contingent, including British General Clement (Daniel Caltagirone), embark on a quest for gold, reminiscent of their ancestors’ endeavors. Their journey into a domain controlled by Aarathi the sorceress (Malavika Mohanan), who fiercely guards the land’s treasures, holds the promise of a brighter future. However, as expected, the path is fraught with hidden perils, and it falls upon Thangalaan to rescue his people and live up to his moniker as the “son of gold.”
On paper, Thangalaan may have appeared as an uplifting tale of resilience and self-determination. Yet, at its core, it is a quest for identity. While the tribe discerns their true essence only in the film’s closing shot, Ranjith and his co-writers suffuse the narrative with a host of intriguing characters each seeking their own identity. Thangalaan grapples with haunting dreams, yearning for a better life for his family; his wife, Gangamma (Parvathy Thiruvothu), serves as the family’s bedrock; Pasupathy, a self-proclaimed Brahmin, believes that a sacred thread and dietary restrictions might grant him entry to Vaikuntam; meanwhile, the British General’s fate hinges on what he excavates in Indian soil. Their search for identity concludes only with the completion of their gold quest, a task easier said than done.
The film’s strongest pillar is Vikram and his adept colleagues.
. The veteran actor, famed for his commitment, does not disappoint, masterfully embodying a leader torn by inner conflict but maintaining a composed façade. The supporting cast, though with limited screen space, perform admirably. Parvathy and Daniel shine in their roles, while Malavika, as Aarathi, surprises with a performance that stands as her best in Tamil cinema. Ranjith ensures that the actors, from leads to the ensemble, contribute significantly to the ambitious project.
Behind the camera, Ranjith remains the standout force, which can be both laudatory and problematic. A poignant scene, emblematic of his prowess, sees village women receiving their own blouses. Extending the sartorial politics highlighted in Kaala and Kabali, the sequence is emotionally resonant, buoyed by compelling performances.
Conversely, despite a commendable score by GV Prakash, the film suffers from technical drawbacks, seemingly constrained by budget limitations. The VFX appears unrefined, and the use of sync sound detracts from the film’s immersive experience, rendering the dialogue challenging to discern and eroding the genre’s required ambiance. Furthermore, the screenplay lacks profundity, offering sparse emotional connectivity. The transient victories, grave losses, and tribulations faced by the protagonists fail to evoke the necessary impact for audience empathy.
In terms of genre, Thangalaan’s resemblance to other, often superior, films is disadvantageous. Elements echoing Paradesi and the magical realism akin to Aayirathil Oruvan overshadow it, while its dominant theme of oppressed individuals favoring British respect over regional ruler suppression feels repetitive, having recently appeared in Captain Miller.
Thangalaan, akin to Ranjith’s earlier works, provides ample content for viewers ready to interpret its various references and ideologies. In his most ambitious project yet, Ranjith includes beloved motifs: symbolism, statues, animals, the theme of the common man’s uprising, combined with extraordinary visuals and performances. However, for those expecting a gripping narrative led by Vikram, hot off the success of Ponniyin Selvan, Thangalaan is ultimately dispiriting.
Much like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken pottery is mended with gold, it is Vikram and Ranjith who nearly salvage this fragmented endeavor that promises gold but is marred by too many flaws to safeguard its true value.
Thangalaan is currently screening in theaters.
Tamil cinema/Indian cinema/reviews
