Modha Rathri (Tamil)
If I have to describe Modha Rathiri, the film that began with a whimper, got pulled off theatres, and suddenly garnered audience and box office love, only in some words, I’d fail spectacularly. For how does one describe a creation that is a wonderful commentary on society even as it speaks of healing and grieving, and does so without gender shaming, and infuses it with so much situational humour?
I’d go out on a limb and call writer-director-and actor Raja Karuppasamy the find of the year. Simply for writing characters that feel and behave so realistically, and for never going for the low-hanging fruit that will bring in the laughs.
Two people about to get married, and a carpenter who is yet to finish work on the cot for their nuptial night — you could call this the premise of Modha Rathri. But what a wonderful world Raja builds around this! It is filled with people with distinct traits: mothers who hide as much as they reveal; former athletes who now only run behind their husbands or away from them when they are violent; gruff-voiced people whose hearts are molten wax; and people with so much eeram (compassion) in their hearts even when society has not been very kind to them — I speak especially of the person manning the loudspeakers.
With a story as solid, all Raja needs is a cast that will draw you in, and he hits gold with Rishikanth as Marudhu and Anishma Anilkumar as Muthuselvi. Both of them are battling loss, one permanently, another temporarily, but their grief remains the same.
Marudhu is summoned urgently from Dubai for an event at home — he does not know it is his wedding. Muthu, an athlete, is forced into marriage and told to play a coy bride on stage. That first awkward smile between the two … sigh!
Both Marudhu and Muthu are the products of toxic homes — his parents still believe in caste, and someone he once loved now resides as a tattoo on his arm. His only backers are his sister and brother-in-law, who are fiercely loyal to him. Muthu falls in love with someone she thinks is a keeper, but in a wonderful moment of realisation — he realises he cannot be one, and is brave enough to admit it.
Marudhu knows Muthu had given her heart to someone else, like he once had, and what you see is some fine writing — two hurt, injured adults soothing and healing each other with care and kindness. At one stage, even though he’s furious with her, Marudhu understands her actions, for he knows he has the options she will never be given access to. Like hiding in Dubai with no one to share his feelings with.
Usually, in films with overbearing parents, the parents are easily forgiven — I’m so glad Raja avoided boarding that bus. Marudhu remains angry with his parents, who go about life as if nothing happened. Muthu is smouldering too, for she has a mother who can hide quite a temper behind that docile demeanour. And loss brings together an unlikely couple who back each other.
Muthu either speaks in whispers or quiet squeals when she’s losing track of her life, and what she’s supposed to do. Only twice does she lose control — and in that primal dance and cry, she attempts to regain some element of control. Anishma is the soul of the movie — she’s part Divya from Mouna Ragam and part Meena from Kottukaali, simmering with rage. What a precious performer she’s turning out to be.
Rishikanth, on the other hand, is the scaffolding inside which Raja builds his storyscape. His face reveals nothing. But his smile speaks a lot when they choose to appear. He speaks of his lover with wistful fondness — it is evident his tears have dried up, but he’s clutching her fleeting memories. And somewhere between holding on to the past and resisting the present, he figures a future that might be tenuous, but stands a chance. His face softens only for his sister Keerthi (a wonderful Sumitra), nephew and brother-in-law, who reciprocates that silent love with fierce loyalty. A fine delineation of a character.
Raja writes in the rest of the family with the confidence of someone who has been a fly on the wall during such events — Bucks or Bhagavathy Perumal plays the patriarchal man who everyone avoids, and who is the loudest and most performative; Chethan plays the disgruntled temple priest with a heart of gold.
Abdul Lee lives the role of the brother-in-law who can’t stand one bad word against Marudhu, and A Venkatesh is Marudhu’s casteist father who believes he’s outgrown his prejudice… there is so much to unpack in the film.
The women are written with compassion and understanding. If the two mothers, each one adamant in their own right, are products and promoters of patriarchy, Muthu’s aunt is a victim, struggling with a husband who does not know tenderness. In that aspect, Keerthi lucks out — her husband worships the ground she walks on, even if the men around him ridicule him for respecting his wife.
For a film high on emotions, Bharath Sankar’s music plays an apt foil. Amid a lush landscape, cinematographer Surendran Paranjothi trains his lens on the canvas that people’s faces are. And editor Ashok Arjunan understands the ebb and flow of a family in turmoil. This is a tech team that completely understood the assignment.
Raja leaves you with a couple of thoughts — empathy alone matters in life, there is nothing a good conversation will not solve, and love does happen. Go watch!
Subha J Rao is an entertainment journalist covering Tamil and Kannada cinema and is based out of Mangaluru, Karnataka.
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.