Have you ever had to watch your kid's school play, which you eventually know is gonna suck? Lingaa is pretty much that. You have the apple of your eye performing on stage and you are not allowed to even cringe at the monstrous mediocrity in front of you. Coz, dude, it's your kid. And also, remember, the play is 3 hours long.
The movie, the hare-brained plot of which can be surmised generously within the reverse of a bus ticket, has nothing new to offer, except for Santhanam's histrionics with the Thalaiva which failed miserably in their last outing together, Enthiran, still light speeds better a movie than this. Lingaa: Or How I Stopped Following the Movie and Desperately Waited for an Item Number, is primarily about this Raja dude Lingeshwara (Rajini), who decades ago built a big ass dam for the people he loved, against all odds including the British rule, caste-ism and an abysmal wardrobe, only to be shunned by the same subjects later. Enter modern-day grandson Lingaa (also Rajini, duh), a thief, to whom the fable of the Raja is recounted amidst an orgy of maudlin sentiments, and who now for no logical reason has to reopen the temple that grand-dad built, coz, you know, we have a huge budget and a whole lot more reel to burn. The hodgy-podgy writing grabs the been-there-done-that feeling and whacks it repeatedly on your face until you pass out owing to the heavy odor of altruism.
The problems of this movie begin right from the intro song which seems like it was composed for a political campaign rather than a star of Rajini's stature and the following first half, which painfully demonstrates a robbery that is smart enough for a third grader trying to wiggle out a tricky booger, and its well extended second act that prods on endlessly. Unlike its star's previous offerings like Sivaji(2009), Padayappa(1999) and Muthu(1995), the latter two of the lot being his collaborations with Ravikumar, which had similair epic setups, this one seems far from a cheap imitation. This has the aesthetics of a caricatured dick pic, albeit an ugly looking one. However, like the antics of your child which keep you awake throughout the play, Rajni, at 64, effortlessly (if a bit all too effortlessly) does the thing he always does, pouring all the panache and style left in him into every scene where he has to play being naughty, righteous, outraged, preachy and outright awesome. The laughs are limited to the first half only and the drama is manipulative enough to extract at least a single drop of tear. I admit there came a moment where I did get a bit teary eyed, but I do so too when I stub my pinkie toe against a piece of furniture.
"So what more do you want from a Thalaivar movie?" an irked fan might ask, arguing that logic was to be kept at bay while enjoying his films. As a self-confessed fan of his work, I've never wanted anything cerebral out of his movies, but whatever dis-endowment of logic that has prevailed was wrapped up with an engaging screenplay, while managing to make its cliches look normal-place. Lingaa over-cooks this formula and takes all the fun out of a worthy entertainer to its star's presence. The trappings of his stardom might cause the viewers, even his fans, to overlook his talent as an entertaining actor (his turn as the evil Chitti in the last act of Enthiran providing a testimony to this fact) among a slew of roles that fell well into his territory. Movies like Basha, Muthu, Arunachalam, Padayappa, evoke a larger than life character in the superstar, while here it is being hammered into. Even if Baba was a 'bad movie', it was never 'badly made', having its own interests at play unlike this fare here, which reeks of urgency from the very first shot. Not a single frame shows originality or perfection, and apart from a well orchestrated and shot train robbery sequence, there is nothing to awe you. Maybe a nod to the set department, for recreating the past era with some eye to detail and to ARR for a couple of songs which remind you that you are in a Rajini movie. That said, the performances are nothing to pine for, the characters are caricatures, the writing seems as fresh as a matrimonial ad and as for the 'punch-dialogues', I've heard better lines from the actor while speaking at public functions. So don't expect me to go into the specifications of the movie as to who's starring in it and likewise, because half the world knows it by now. Let's stick to saar.
Coming to the important question - Is it really unjust of a fan to ask for a well-made movie of Rajinikanth? With Lingaa, comes the instance to look at how the audience and the industry treat their stars, and to realize that celebrating an actor should also include respecting him enough to provide him with a decent work of cinema rather than striving to fill up his absence at the box-office with drivel. A debate might arise about the scope of roles that can be offered to Rajini henceforth, because any character that he might have to play will seem redundant. But like Kamal Hassan once said, "Filmmakers are like drug dealers. They don't want to sell what their customers don't want to take in". Enthiran, a well made conceptually pertinent movie failed to work because we didn't see Rajinikanth the superstar, but Rajnikanth the actor. And we really have forgotten who Rajini the actor is, how he looks, speaks, feels, emotes and smokes. With this catch-22 scenario of supply and demand, the actor loses his standing, while the star is supported by the pillars of fandom, wearing his stardom as a crown of thorns.
To conclude, Lingaa is a movie that you take with a pinch of salt and aspirin and painkillers and even cocaine if need be, just to make sure you are not consciously watching a Rajinikanth film, one having as much sheen as the unattended dust-jacket of a celebrated epic.
Watch it if you have to at a movie theater near you, while I resort to watching Sivaji, for the 76th time, as an antidote.
The movie, the hare-brained plot of which can be surmised generously within the reverse of a bus ticket, has nothing new to offer, except for Santhanam's histrionics with the Thalaiva which failed miserably in their last outing together, Enthiran, still light speeds better a movie than this. Lingaa: Or How I Stopped Following the Movie and Desperately Waited for an Item Number, is primarily about this Raja dude Lingeshwara (Rajini), who decades ago built a big ass dam for the people he loved, against all odds including the British rule, caste-ism and an abysmal wardrobe, only to be shunned by the same subjects later. Enter modern-day grandson Lingaa (also Rajini, duh), a thief, to whom the fable of the Raja is recounted amidst an orgy of maudlin sentiments, and who now for no logical reason has to reopen the temple that grand-dad built, coz, you know, we have a huge budget and a whole lot more reel to burn. The hodgy-podgy writing grabs the been-there-done-that feeling and whacks it repeatedly on your face until you pass out owing to the heavy odor of altruism.
The problems of this movie begin right from the intro song which seems like it was composed for a political campaign rather than a star of Rajini's stature and the following first half, which painfully demonstrates a robbery that is smart enough for a third grader trying to wiggle out a tricky booger, and its well extended second act that prods on endlessly. Unlike its star's previous offerings like Sivaji(2009), Padayappa(1999) and Muthu(1995), the latter two of the lot being his collaborations with Ravikumar, which had similair epic setups, this one seems far from a cheap imitation. This has the aesthetics of a caricatured dick pic, albeit an ugly looking one. However, like the antics of your child which keep you awake throughout the play, Rajni, at 64, effortlessly (if a bit all too effortlessly) does the thing he always does, pouring all the panache and style left in him into every scene where he has to play being naughty, righteous, outraged, preachy and outright awesome. The laughs are limited to the first half only and the drama is manipulative enough to extract at least a single drop of tear. I admit there came a moment where I did get a bit teary eyed, but I do so too when I stub my pinkie toe against a piece of furniture.
"So what more do you want from a Thalaivar movie?" an irked fan might ask, arguing that logic was to be kept at bay while enjoying his films. As a self-confessed fan of his work, I've never wanted anything cerebral out of his movies, but whatever dis-endowment of logic that has prevailed was wrapped up with an engaging screenplay, while managing to make its cliches look normal-place. Lingaa over-cooks this formula and takes all the fun out of a worthy entertainer to its star's presence. The trappings of his stardom might cause the viewers, even his fans, to overlook his talent as an entertaining actor (his turn as the evil Chitti in the last act of Enthiran providing a testimony to this fact) among a slew of roles that fell well into his territory. Movies like Basha, Muthu, Arunachalam, Padayappa, evoke a larger than life character in the superstar, while here it is being hammered into. Even if Baba was a 'bad movie', it was never 'badly made', having its own interests at play unlike this fare here, which reeks of urgency from the very first shot. Not a single frame shows originality or perfection, and apart from a well orchestrated and shot train robbery sequence, there is nothing to awe you. Maybe a nod to the set department, for recreating the past era with some eye to detail and to ARR for a couple of songs which remind you that you are in a Rajini movie. That said, the performances are nothing to pine for, the characters are caricatures, the writing seems as fresh as a matrimonial ad and as for the 'punch-dialogues', I've heard better lines from the actor while speaking at public functions. So don't expect me to go into the specifications of the movie as to who's starring in it and likewise, because half the world knows it by now. Let's stick to saar.
Coming to the important question - Is it really unjust of a fan to ask for a well-made movie of Rajinikanth? With Lingaa, comes the instance to look at how the audience and the industry treat their stars, and to realize that celebrating an actor should also include respecting him enough to provide him with a decent work of cinema rather than striving to fill up his absence at the box-office with drivel. A debate might arise about the scope of roles that can be offered to Rajini henceforth, because any character that he might have to play will seem redundant. But like Kamal Hassan once said, "Filmmakers are like drug dealers. They don't want to sell what their customers don't want to take in". Enthiran, a well made conceptually pertinent movie failed to work because we didn't see Rajinikanth the superstar, but Rajnikanth the actor. And we really have forgotten who Rajini the actor is, how he looks, speaks, feels, emotes and smokes. With this catch-22 scenario of supply and demand, the actor loses his standing, while the star is supported by the pillars of fandom, wearing his stardom as a crown of thorns.
To conclude, Lingaa is a movie that you take with a pinch of salt and aspirin and painkillers and even cocaine if need be, just to make sure you are not consciously watching a Rajinikanth film, one having as much sheen as the unattended dust-jacket of a celebrated epic.
Watch it if you have to at a movie theater near you, while I resort to watching Sivaji, for the 76th time, as an antidote.
