‘Thug Life' review: Mani Ratnam's gangster film shoots a bit too straight

Mint

a day ago

What a wonderful world it would be if Tamil and Telugu commercial directors could apply their considerable talents to telling concise, coherent stories. The bloat is out of control. I'm not just talking about the dozen retrofitted plots of Kalki 2898 AD or the maddening detours of Pushpa 2. Even smart, funny films like Jigarthanda DoubleX stretch their material unduly. I admit this isn't a widely held opinion. Audiences today clearly like the mess.
As luck would have it, the wrong director decided to simplify. Thug Life is Mani Ratnam at his most basic. This isn't to say he's made a bad film—it's just not the film you'd expect Ratnam, comfortably established as the preeminent popular director of the past 40 years, to make at 69. In his previous two films, Ponniyin Selvan: I and its sequel, he created a rich, teeming world and asked audiences to keep up. No one will have any problem following Thug Life, a remarkably linear tale for an industry that loves flashbacks and wrong-footing the viewer.
Thug Life reunites Ratnam with Kamal Haasan for the first time since Nayakan, a landmark 1987 Tamil gangster film. In the early black-and-white scenes, a clean-shaven Haasan might remind viewers of Velu Naicker, as will the sight of a young boy at his father's funeral. The man died in a shootout between the police and gangster Rangaraaya Sakthivel (Haasan). The don adopts the boy—who doesn't know how his father was killed or that his sister, Chandra, is alive. In time, Amar (Silambarasan) rises to second-in-command in Sakthivel's cartel, the dealings of which are left vague, and which operates out of an even vaguer Delhi.
From the start, co-writers Ratnam and Haasan seed the idea that Amar, for all his loyalty to his quasi-father, can be swayed by voices in his ear, and that Sakthivel has plenty of the paranoia that must come with being a gangster. The first half is a laser-focused and very enjoyable march towards their split. There are small pleasures (Joju George as wrecking machine, the Simla Agreement line) and more elaborate ones (Silambarasan's entry scene in the desert, the ebullience of the 'Jinguchaa' choreography). We see Sakthivel at peace—dallying with his mistress, Indrani (Trisha Krishnan), worrying about his daughter—and at war, parrying attacks by rival don Sadanand (Mahesh Manjrekar). For all the frenetic energy on display, there's a sense that the real business can only start once he's betrayed.
It's anyone's guess if Thug Life is more a Haasan or Ratnam joint, or whether they were in total agreement on the direction the film would take. One thing is clear, though. Ratnam wants to make a film that will play: not a masterpiece but a hit. You can sense it in the frequency of set pieces, the straightforwardness of the narrative, and the absence of any political or cultural commentary. There's no interrogation of the modern gangster film. There is certainly a depth of emotion, but the storytelling is shallow.
The desire to put aside shading in favour of success also seems to have guided the third grizzled head behind Thug Life. I can't think of another film in some time where A.R. Rahman has been this focused on delivering hits. Paal Dabba's 'O Maara' is a blast, but on the whole it's a solid rather than standout soundtrack. Save for one song—the soaring 'Vinveli Nayaga', with its '80s-pop propulsion and orchestral swoops. I was hoping it would play over a big climactic showdown, but end credits turned out to be the proper place—there's nothing in the film to match its power.
Ratnam doesn't quite fit in with today's action cinema. He can still put together a great sequence if it doesn't involve much fighting or stunt work—the foiled assassination attempt in PS-II is exquisite. But filming combat isn't his strong suit, and having to work around the limitations of a 70-year-old star makes it worse. Anbariv are excellent action directors, but Haasan isn't at all convincing as an indestructible object (one punch from George would knock him into next week) and none of the fights are memorable. That they still broadly work is a credit to editor A. Sreekar Prasad, who continues his outstanding work on Ponniyin Selvan.
At least Haasan isn't too old to act his way out of trouble. Faced with betrayal, he's left without words, only managing a series of guttural sounds—a wheeze that turns to a growl and then a laugh. As the film goes on, Ratnam increasingly catches him in closeup, his eyes shining with pain and acceptance of his mortality. It's good he's on form because Silambarasan becomes less interesting after the split and Indrani is a disaster, a perpetual victim played nervously by Krishnan.
It's tempting to think of this film as Ratnam's Ran, a master returning to the genre he helped define. But the comparison doesn't hold—Ran is richer, more ambitious and resonant. Nevertheless, Kurosawa does seem to be on Ratnam's mind. The opening of the film is a panoramic shot straight out of the Japanese director's playbook: Haasan with ponytail and flowing beard, standing in a field, green stalks waving, intoning some nonsense about being a yakuza. And the final shot of farmers happily harvesting rice is, of course, the ending to Seven Samurai. Thug Life, with its world-weary hero, feels like farewell, but hopefully isn't. Kurosawa made his last film at 83. Maybe Ratnam's Ran is yet to come.