Cast Jeeva, Anjali, Karunas
Storyline An M.A. degree holder’s frustration makes him a murderer
Bottomline The loopholes are many!
What is the director driving at? That choosing Tamizh as the subject of study takes you nowhere? That even if you go on a murderous spree, killing 22 people, you can go scot-free unless you choose to tell the world about it? Or that studying Tamizh is a deterrent to being worldly wise? Writer-director Ram’s confusion shows on screen. When the main character is subjected to relentless suffering, it’s suffocating. And the incessant deaths get too bloody for comfort.
MR Film Productions’ Katradhu Tamizh (U/A) with its telling tagline, ‘Tamizh M.A.,’ has some brilliant performances from Jeeva and Karunas. Lack of make up makes debutante Anjali’s portrayal extremely natural. But with no help from the story department, the actors’ exercises are futile.
Prabhakar (Jeeva) is a bright student, who decides to graduate in Tamizh. Not that he’s passionate about the language; he finds solace in the company of his Tamizh teacher and decides to toe his mentor’s line. But Prabhakar is fluent in English too. He even prepares a bio data for his room mate who lands a lucrative job. Why the frustration?
He knows his salary will increase on the completion of a Bachelor’s in Education. Why the eccentricity? The moment he begins to kill without purpose, the man loses your sympathy.
At best, Katradhu Tamizh is morbid, and at worst, it’s irritating. The mother and grandparents die in an accident, so does his favourite teacher. Later, there’s also news of his father’s death.
To add to the gore, Prabhakar turns homicidal and kills at will. His lover’s behaviour is equally perplexing. When in grave danger, she could have sought his help, but strangely she resigns herself to her fate in a procurer’s den.
Prabhakar catches hold of a cameraman (Karunas), gets his confession of the murders recorded on tape and hands it over to a private channel. But once the police want to nab him, he tries to escape! Till that moment, they aren’t even looking for him! The lack of logic is befuddling.
Lighting, tones and angles (S.R. Kadhir) give the necessary amount of greyness to the narration and Raghavan’s art complements the mood. Why does Yuvan the composer allow Yuvan the singer to croon for him? Contrastingly, Ilaiyaraja shines in the numbers he’s given voice to.
When you try to be different for the sake of being so, it only seems pseudo. Katradhu Tamizh is just that.