Kuruvi - Responsible cinema

There are many heart-wrenching human issues in today's world which Cinema can, should and does focus on. Issues such as poverty, illiteracy, racial and sexual abuse, human trafficking and, state sponsored violation of marginalized people and suspension of even basic human rights by arrogant administrations. And all these tentacles are but parts of one ugly miasma - the medusa called exploitation.

We watch the plight of those human beings caught in this chakravyuham in network documentaries and the so called award films and cringe, maybe even shed a few tears. But rarely do we get to go to the movie theatre for a weekend bonanza with the family, have a wonderful time watching the hero kick the living daylights out of the bad guys, romance the dusky beauty, indulge in rib tickling escapades with the comical sidekick, and yet come back home with a spring in one's stride and with a social message implanted deeply in one's heart. To this latter category of core-value-deep impact cinema belongs Kuruvi. Let's look at the tentacles of exploitation this movie illuminates.

The plight of bonded labourers is probably the worst consequence of exploitation. From the time of his birth, the labourer is subjected to a life of very little haves and even smaller wants. He is forced into a viscious cycle to pay off his father's debts, which he can never accomplish in his lifetime. Married to hunger and hard toil day after day, exploited to the bone by unethical middle men controlled by politicians, he is living the life of a Gulag prisoner, only with a lower life expectancy and sub-zero hope. Kadappa is Kuruvi's Liberia, Chad and the Democratic Republic of Congo. The resounding message the movie conveys is that you and me, the end consumer seldom realize the blood we have helped spill for our little comforts in life. Be it rock salt or blood diamonds, the slavemasters and middlemen whose pockets we line are like parasitic weeds that block the sunshine out of the bonded labourer's existence. That Vijay does not know of his father's plight is just a metaphorical spin on this "see no evil, ask not of it," bubble we live in.

I used to wonder why Tamil moviemakers usually choose Singapore, the Middle East and Malaysia as their foreign locales of choice. This movie, maybe unintentionally, has opened my eyes to the glaring fact: the Tamil diaspora outside of Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka lives there. In Malaysia alone, Tamilians form 8% of the nation's populace. Yet, their existence is not very different from that of the bonded labourers of Kadappa. A majority of this pupulace is poor and fulfills the critical yet unattractive professions shunned by society. They are subjected to racial abuse and communal discrimination based on their belief system. Their human rights are routinely violated and there is no semblance of secularism afforded to them. For such people, more movies should be made in such places, so that they may provide a window into their lives for the more fortunate world citizens. While this movie does not do this explicitly (but there is a token message in the title and dermal premise - the role of the "kuruvi"), it atleast provides a setting which influential people should sit up and take notice of. For that I salute Udayanidhi Stalin and Dharani.


I am a big fan of the Dharani-Vijay-Trisha combo. The on screen chemsitry between Vijay and Trisha is realistic because of two reasons: their common generational bracket, and their sense of comic timing. Vijay provides most of the aerobic moves, and has a face that is as malleable as martensite when it comes to comic reactions. Trisha is his perfect foil with her gullible belligerence that sets up the duo's next escapade. Dharani leaves us panting in avid expectation about what these two will be up to next. Ofcourse, most of Ghilli's success was based on this exhilerating exchange, so what could Dharani do that would not be old? Fuzz-brain: call in the king of comedy, Vivek. So, he adds a pinch of salt to Vijay's spicy chillies and Trisha's wholesome lentils, and what you have is a mouth watering vatha kuzhambu ready to eat.

Mannivannan's cameo is brilliant in that he is as usual very emotive and plays the role of a distraut father to perfection. At the same time, we should salute the story for being bold in giving Mannivannan more minutes in retroanalysis than onscreen. Vijay is not the lynchpin of the story. Mannivannan is. At every stage of the story, it is he, who in the background, drives it forward. For if he had not been in debt, Vijay would not have needed to race that deathtrap of a car. So, no dynamic entry. If he had not been in bonded labour, Malaysia would have just been another patch on the map for Vijay. So, no hero, no villians, no Kuruvi.

The roles of Ashish Vidyarthi, Suman and the other dadas are typecast, so there's not much scope for experimentation here. I'd have liked atleast one of them to be a suave Company style Ajay Devgan, or a brooding Sarkar style Big B, but I guess that would have sapped some of the on screen energy. For this kind of movie, this formula works, so well... bite the bullet.

The action sequences are as usual choreographed brilliantly, but what sets the stage ablaze is the background score by Vidyasagar. Anyone who buys a ticket for a Vijay flick is automatically a mover and shaker. So the apt medley of bass and dappankuthu adds flavor to the fold. The songs are, as in Ghilli, once again equal to Vijay's vibrations. There is one thing I have to say about Vijay's dance: after a point you begin to wonder if he's a Pinnochio boy transformed from a GI Joe toy with hinges for ball-and-sockets.

Most times in Tamil cinema these days, clever directors attempt to weave the song and fight sequences into the story, but face the pitfall of arresting or accelerating the tempo of the storyline. Dharani has shown in Dhool, Ghilli and Kuruvi that he is the past master of this tempo tuning. These interludes take you from the pantry car to your berth at the speed of the passenger, and basically leave you with the feeling that the signal was green and the scenery didn't blurr past.


The movie is not without its faults too, but these are more devils in the detail than ghosts in the machinery. Campy summersaults and non-physical flying baddies take nothing away from the movie's appeal, so I accept the sop to commercialism and move on.

Please don't come out of the theatre thinking that Kuruvi was just another Vijay flick - a dhoom dhamaka entertainer. It is also a sensible effort to educate the masses on an existing problem - that of blatant exploitation in our country. Whether it is the human trafficking in Kadappa, the salt mine agarias of Gujurat, the opium cultivators of Rajasthan, the bar girls of Mumbai, or cotton farmers of Maharashtra, the sad stories are the same. And even though directors form Satyajit Ray to Bharatiraja have dealt with these subescts before, Dharani scores because the manner in which he's gift wrapped this bitter pill ensures that this is not one more film that gets watched by forty self-acclaimed refined critics and recieves a national award, but one that reaches the millions of Tamilians around the world, be they the upwardly mobile urban middle class, or the B and C mofussuls. And ofcourse, Dharani has ensured that Udayanidhi Stalin's investment is rewarded well. It would be wishful thinking that U. Stalin would talk the message of the movie up to Tamil Nadu's first family, but I like to be an optimist.