Coolie (Tamil)
If you’ve ever played three cups, you’d know that the game escalates in pace with each consecutive and more complex move. It gets increasingly hard to track the cup the ball is under. Keeping up with Coolie’s countless plot twists is a bit like that, though with less internal logic. This doesn’t mean you can’t have fun watching the film.
Director Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Coolie is an over-the-top, unabashedly ludicrous, carnivalesque roar. Rajinikanth reminds you beyond doubt why he’s the Superstar. An ageing one, yes, but his performance can still pack a punch.
To physically land punches on screen, it’s becoming woefully apparent that he needs the generous help of CGI and stunt ropes. What makes you look past this is how Rajini oozes his trademark style, snark, and charm.
The film opens with Deva (Rajini) running a mansion for men and male students in Chennai. The students are ensured free meals and low rent as long as they abide by his no drinking and no smoking policy. Like Baasha (1995) and several other hits, there’s more to Deva’s story than that of a mere proprietor.
A tragedy involving Rajasekar (Sathyaraj), an old friend, takes Deva to the Visakhapatnam port. Here, he will infiltrate the criminal operations of Simon or Kingpin (Nagarjuna Akkineni).
Simon enforces a brutal and authoritarian hold over the port and its workers. Nagarjuna is at times chilling, at other times almost cartoonish. For the most part, he exudes a careless menace that makes all his confrontations with Rajini compelling.
Similar to Jailer (2023), Coolie boasts an ensemble cast of actors from Hindi, Malayalam, Telugu and Kannada cinema.
Soubin Shahir, known to Malayalam audiences for Kumbalangi Nights (2019), Maheshinte Prathikaaram (2016) and Manjummel Boys (2024), among other films, plays Simon’s second-in-command, Dayal. He keeps your head spinning with his unhinged violence and mercurial shifts in personality and motives. Dayal is a stark contrast to Deva and hence, an interesting antagonist.
Kannada actor Uppendra provides the story’s first link to Deva’s mysterious past. Unflappable and quick on his feet, his character ratchets up the delirious energy of Coolie’s second half.
When Aamir Khan makes his much-awaited cameo, the sequence has an unrestrained and maniacal intensity. This is Aamir’s Kollywood debut, and Coolie ensures it is a cinematic moment that won’t be forgotten soon.
Preethi (Shruti Haasan) is mostly present to be abducted and rescued so many times, you eventually lose count. The performance is uneven, as is the dubbing. Preethi’s deer-caught-in-headlights wide-eyed obtuseness becomes quickly grating. The character is just another example of Kollywood’s unwillingness to invest much thought in writing female characters.
Deva is the critical peg holding all these characters and their storylines together. Rajini carries this weight smoothly, delivering moments of grief, comedy and triumph with ease. It’s a far cry from his previous Vettaiyan (2024), in which he just seemed tired.
Coolie marks fifty years of Rajini in cinema and was bound to recall the actor's hits across a long career.
The most obvious, if superficial, reference is to Uzahaippali (1993) in which Rajini played a daily-wage factory worker. The older film is from an era that most Rajini fans likely grew up during. Outfitted in a striking red shirt, stylishly tied off at the ends, Tamilarasan (Rajini) is deeply suspicious of millionaires who, he points out, enrich themselves by exploiting working-class labour.
Tamilarasan also wears a metal ID tag around his arm, inscribed with his employee number of 777. In Coolie, the tag makes a sort of comeback. Only this time, it is veiled in secrecy and one predictable plot twist.
From the late 1970s, at least into the early 1990s, the actor played working-class heroes in several films. Sometimes, these representations were too simplistic, but the message was clear: On screen, Rajini’s loyalties were to the people, especially daily wage labourers. His characters would often rally against the rich and powerful.
Films like Uzhaippali, Mullum Malram (1978), Bairavi (1978) and Mannan (1992) were not without flaws, such as misogyny, but they also highlighted the vulnerability and rights of working-class people.
Whether or not Coolie has the same political acumen is hard to say without spoilers. But there are certainly some punchlines that are reminiscent of those earlier films. The final revelation of who Deva really is satisfies Rajini’s fandom while making a stormy statement on labour rights.
The action sequences, despite their frequency, don’t exhaust you. Philomin Raj’s edits in Coolie are closer to his work on Vikram (2022) rather than the taxing fight scenes in Leo (2023).
The comparison is also applicable to Lokesh. Leo had neither the quirkiness of Master’s (2021) first half nor the entertainingly palatable excesses of Vikram. With Coolie, the director bounces back from his previous disappointing fare.
Anirudh’s music may be getting harder to tell apart with each new film when heard on its own, but it fits seamlessly into the events on screen. ‘Uyirnaadi Nanben’ is the one song that stands up without the support of the film. And its placement in Coolie adds a gentle gravitas to a touching sequence.
Coolie justifies trading off logic for absorbing and fluffy entertainment. Lokesh’s latest film is ridiculously fun to watch.
Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.