Raayan: Intense, Violent, and Claustrophobic Fast Food

Remember how Vetrimaran’s Aadukalam begins? A frantic crowd tries to breach a brick house from every direction, and a piece of wood splinters as someone smashes it against the door, revealing a man inside watching with eerie detachment. Picture Dhanush in that moment—his face twisted with rage, a bloodied sickle in hand, anger bubbling beneath his skin. Now, place him on the other side of the door, peering out with an intense gaze. That’s exactly how Raayan kicks off, pulling you into its intense grip from the very start. And while it ends in a manner reminiscent of Aadukalam, the journey in between exponentially amplifies this unsettling tension, creating a visceral cinematic experience.

Imagine being trapped in a relentless spiral of violence and tension, with no escape in sight. That’s exactly what Dhanush’s latest thriller delivers, and it does so with a chilling, claustrophobic intensity. As time passes, you can almost feel the walls closing in. You start squirming in your seat as the plot thickens, and you almost forget to breathe. You don’t want bad things to happen, but they do, and just when you think you’ve seen it all, a twist hits you out of nowhere, and the theater erupts in a collective gasp. Then you relax, thinking, “What else could possibly go wrong?” But there’s more film to go past that.

Dhanush dishes out his directorial effort in the formulaic style of 90s Tamil cinema but with the sleek, intense treatment reminiscent of a Korean thriller (with Hitchcockian dolly zooms). The film serves up raw action and violence that resonate with today’s Tamil cinema audiences, making it a potential blockbuster. It evokes memories of classic films from legends like Sivaji Ganesan, MGR, Rajinikanth, and Kamal Haasan. While I won’t spoil the key twists by naming specific films, their influence is palpable. Dhanush draws from a wide range of cinematic inspiration, including the storytelling elements of Mani Ratnam especially from Thalapathy. Whether it’s the black-and-white opening, the significant role of Chennai’s relentless rain, the late evening scenes on an open terrace that echo Rajinikanth’s home, or the yellow-skied silhouette of Raayan, Dhanush skillfully uses these elements, pulling the right strings to create a film that feels both nostalgic and refreshingly modern.

In today’s cinema, casting plays a crucial role in creating a pan-India appeal, and Raayan excels here. A multi-star ensemble handpicked from across different South Indian states makes perfect sense for once. Usually, such a cast don’t form the core part of the film, but in Raayan, they are as important as the protagonist Dhanush. His brothers are portrayed by a talented cast including Kalidas Jayaram, Sundeep Kishan, Dushara Vijayan, Selvaraghavan and Aparna. Each one delivers a powerful performance, making their characters deeply believable and relatable. SJ Surya, in particular, shines as a very believable and understated antagonist. He steps away from his usual pompous roles to portray a serious, scheming bad guy, adding depth and nuance to the film’s dynamic cast.

Raayan is a lonely man who goes through life with a kind of stoic detachment, taking a path that few would have the courage to attempt. He naturally embodies authority, and while the character has moments of perceived weakness like in Baasha or Asuran, he also shows strong resilience. Dhanush proves once again his talent in fearless, edge-of-your-seat acting, giving an unforgettable performance as Kaathavaraayan. He plays this enigmatic character with both power and subtlety.

While the film’s free-flowing action and gripping performances kept me on the edge of my seat, some narrative shortcuts detracted from the overall authenticity. Character decisions and plot twists seemed designed to heighten the drama rather than emerge naturally from the story. Prakashraj’s character felt thrust upon us without much reason, and some initial scenes discussing SJ Surya and Saravanan in the police HQ reminded me of those old 80s Tamil films with their slide presentations about the “bad guys.” These shortcuts maintained the film’s fast pace and high tension, but then they made the story feel less organic. It left me wishing for a more cohesive and believable storyline.

From RS Manohar’s stage play Ilangeswaran, Rajinikanth’s Raman Andalum Ravanan Andalum, Mani Ratnam’s Ravanan, Ranjith’s Kaala, and now Raayan, the imagery of mythological Raavanan continues to captivate Tamil movie writers and directors. I’m not even sure what this imagery, other than depicting him as an asuran, signifies in this movie, especially in a song set on Bhogi day, which has nothing to do with Deepavali.

The most unexpected duet song in the film, combining Rahman and Dhanush, occurs at a crucial point, blending celebration with impending doom. This unique song is set to be a huge hit both in theaters and on TV screens, featuring every core character of the film, except Aparna, each with a meaningful reason for their existence in the song. The song not only enhances the finale but also stands out as a memorable and impactful moment in the movie.

This seems to be the year of Dhanush. He kicked off the year with a stellar performance in Arun Matheswaran’s spectacular Captain Miller and now captivates us again with his directorial venture, Raayan. I’m still waiting for a Tamil movie that can top the rich experiences these two provided for me in the theater.

In the final moments of Raayan, as the rain-soaked streets of Chennai reflect the turmoil within, you’re left contemplating the quiet strength it takes to stand against life’s relentless storms. The film lingers, much like the silent aftermath of a storm, leaving you with a sense of both resolution and unease.

One response to “Raayan: Intense, Violent, and Claustrophobic Fast Food”

  1. NEEK: A Low-Key, Contemporary Love Story – kirukkal.com Avatar

    […] feels instinctive. It’s like Dhanush just trusts his material enough to let it breathe. Unlike Raayan, which leaned into heightened drama, NEEK moves with a sort of casual looseness. The young […]

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