Quick Take | Maamannan Review: Mari Selvaraj's no-brainer is only redeemed by Vadivelu's screen presence

Filmmaker Mari Selvaraj knows this himself. Maybe, that's the reason why the trailer of the movie begins with this line: "I will keep repeating the same story over and over again, in search of ears willing to hear the truth." It's the director's way of acknowledging, he's repeating himself for the third time. Following the tradition, he has also named his latest movie after the protagonist Maamannan (his last two movies were Pariyerum Perumal and Karnan). The meaning of the name is "emperor" but the one who bears that name is no ruler. He's from an oppressed class. However, we first meet Maamannan (Vadivelu) as part of a ruling class. He is a two-time MLA and seems to enjoy great goodwill among the people of his constituency and party men. 

Maamannan is an ideal politician. One of those rare politicians, who have managed to keep their integrity and soul intact. But, his honesty and his urge to work for the common good come with a price. He has to make great compromises that challenge his self-respect to stay in the good books of his superior leaders, so he could continue to hold onto the little power that he has managed to gain through the channels of democracy. 

Also Read: From Thevar Magan to Maamannan — a look at Vadivelu's talent for serious acting

In a poignant scene, Maamannan rues that he was at fault for thinking that his position in society was not something he deserved but a charity bestowed upon him by those on the upper rungs of the caste hierarchy. He has a great name and yields significant political power, yet society has successfully managed to enslave him. 

Maamannan has superhuman strength, almost like Gandhi, when it comes to tolerance. He is so used to all the mistreatment and insults that stems from caste prejudice, they longer rattle him. Yes, all the abusive and physical assaults move him to tears, but he never really snaps. No matter what kind of atrocity he gets subjected to. You might even wonder, is he even human? How can he let that one slide and move on? 

Maamannan's mastery over his emotions at times sticks like a sore thumb in the narration. Can a two-time MLA be subjected to such atrocities without any consequences? Well, as they say, truth is stranger than fiction. If you think Mari is exaggerating for the sake of drama, you need to only glance through news headlines to grasp the pervasive nature of religion and caste in politics and how they shape our experience every day. 

Maamannan never once flaunts his muscle or money power and treats everyone as equals. The only time he takes weapons is to protect his family. But, even then he shows a lot of dignity and moral fortitude. A simple meeting, which was supposed to go smoothly, gets out of hand, and a gang of blood-thirty bigots lay siege to Maamannan's house. And Maamannan's guns come out. 

Maamannan hands a machete to his son Athiveeran (Udhayanidhi Stalin) and permits him to kill anyone who dares to walk into the house. Even at this point, he's only willing to engage in violence in a manner of defence, and not to vent his anger. 

Athiveeran is the opposite of Maamannan. He is quick to temper and never ready to compromise his self-respect. He's the yin to Maamannan's yang. Now, each time Athiveeran kicks in the chest of bigots, it feels good. But, Mari has been very cautious in handling violence as he never lets Athiveeran feel powerful and good when engaging in a physical fight. While there is applied heroism in the fight sequences, we never really get a sense that the hero is having fun hurting others. That's a distinctive and sublime distinction in Mari's movies. 

And Maamannan, the movie, never really raises above this handful of beautiful subtleties and nuances. Especially, the film goes off track in the third act, which deals with electoral politics. Mari is out of his comfort zone here as he hasn't cracked the code to apply his sense of poetry to reflect on politics. 

The third act feels like it has almost been shot by a different filmmaker. The plot contrivances, unimpressive dialogues and predictability nearly thwart all the goodwill that the movie earned in the last two acts. However, the film gets saved by the wonderful ending and Vadivelu's screen presence. 

Fahadh Faasil's character, Rathnavelu, represents an outright bigot devoid of any redeeming qualities. Mari emphasises Rathnavelu's cruelty through repeated shots depicting his abusive behaviour. In one scene, Rathnavelu beats one of his dogs to death, reducing it to a mere pool of flesh and blood. The film aspires to present contemporary and evolved portrayals of emotions and human flaws but falls short in its treatment of the villains, which feels outdated.

Watching Mari Selvaraj's movies is a seamless experience. He constructs a world with clear divisions between the good and the bad, leaving no room for morally ambiguous characters. The audience knows who to root for, and Selvaraj ensures that visual and verbal cues guide them through the narrative. He doesn't burden viewers with the responsibility of deep introspection. Despite their narrative dexterity and literary value, his films can be considered "no-brainer". However, this creates a significant narrative challenge, as, by the third movie, the tropes and conventions of Mari's world become predictable and lose their novelty.

Attempting to classify a movie like Maamannan as merely "good" or "bad" would be an oversimplification. It transcends binary responses, as it is not just a film but an embodiment of one's experiences with caste prejudice. It invites audiences to delve into their own experiences and interpretations. And as such, it deserves to be experienced and appreciated in all its brilliance and imperfections.