Parasakthi (Tamil)
Establishing legacies is an integral part of an election year. The anticipated clash that didn’t happen between Parasakthi and Jana Nayagan shows how the idea of legacies is preoccupying both the DMK and the TVK. Had Vijay’s film released too, the box office clash would have likely been remembered as a flashpoint even years later — one fittingly theatrical for Tamil Nadu’s long-standing bonds between politics and cinema.
It’s certainly an interesting time to be reporters and record keepers.
Parasakthi opens with fire and chaos in 1959 Tamil Nadu. Chezhiyan (Sivakarthikeyan) is a student revolutionary leading one of the many agitations against Hindi imposition at the time. He is a near-mythic figure to other students. Then, terrible personal losses make him give up on the movement, drop out of college and work as a fireman on a train, shovelling coal.
Jumping forward into the 1960s, we see his younger brother, Chinna (Atharvaa), also in the movement. Chinna defies Chezhiyan’s every attempt to make him stop. Chezhiyan now believes that if he learns Hindi, he will be allowed a fair interview for the role of a ticket collector. He soon, painfully, realises that he cannot compete against native Hindi speakers. He also witnesses a tragedy that sends him roaring back to the movement.
This movement, Parasakthi stresses, is not only comprised of Tamils, but is spread across Karnataka, Kerala, Andhra, Maharashtra, and West Bengal. At one point, when a character wonders aloud where the representative Malayali is, Chezhiyan replies, “We move with whoever comes before the dawn.”
(Just to make sure that this review doesn’t trigger a row between Tamils and Malayalis, I assure you the missing representative makes quite a dramatic appearance.)
Chezhiyan and Chinna’s relationship may have been endearing if the film didn’t keep reminding you of the ties between Anna Durai and M Karunanidhi, or Anna and Periyar: the older, wiser leader and the younger, brasher man. Chinna’s characterisation is so flat, Atharvaa often seems to be performing based on just a vague brief to be the reckless younger brother.
As in her previous films, director Sudha Kongara ensures more screen time and character writing for the woman lead. Bommi (Aparna Balamurali) in Soorarai Pottru (2020), for instance, is still a memorable character, and the bond between her and Maara (Suriya) felt real — not a box to be ticked for a mainstream film, but a vital part of the story.
In Parasakthi, Sreeleela’s Ratnamala is the daughter of an MP and Telugu by birth. Unbeknownst to her family, she is an active part of the movement. Ratna, however, does not have Bommi’s charisma. Aparna brought depth and nuance to her role. Sreeleela comes off more as a caricature of a ‘strong-willed woman’.
Then there’s Jayam Ravi, playing the main villain, Thiru — though it’s mystifying why he is a villain at all. Thiru is a self-hating Tamil. Sent for training to the KGB, he returns to India’s Intelligence Bureau (IB) to put down the anti-Hindi agitations. When a character helpfully gives us Thiru’s background, he replies with near-lethal levels of sternness: “I am what I am.” Enough said.
Sivakarthikeyan is earnest. He appears to be trying very hard to give us a hero we root for. But how much can any actor do when the script has so little emotional authenticity?
The plot quickly loses momentum. Events move at a sluggish pace. The character writing is flat. The 25 cuts and changes demanded by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) at the last minute leave visible lags in the editing.
The film, produced by DMK-linked Dawn Pictures, faithfully reproduces many of the party’s taglines. “We are against Hindi imposition. Not Hindi speakers” makes an early appearance. Chezhiyan, even during the chaos of a burning train, detours from his mission to assure a north Indian family of this.
That family certainly should not have been harmed, but Parasakthi performs veritable gymnastics to fit in calculated political optics.
For instance, it was against the Congress that the DMK fought Hindi imposition. In the film, they serve as stand-ins for the powers in New Delhi — past or present. At the same time, Parasakthi seems keen to ensure that the DMK’s current and major ally in the state isn’t offended.
In an election year, the film will inevitably be considered political propaganda. DMK films of the 1950s and 60s are also routinely described as propaganda. That has never diminished their importance, the stories they told, or the undeniable mark they left on Tamil cinema and politics. Parasakthi (1952), in particular, forces viewers to confront fractured ideas of morality and stands as a testament to Karunanidhi’s incisive writing. It was brave for its time and remains relevant today.
The new Parasakthi’s connection to the original is meagre — mostly only in name, and in the obvious choice of a movie that doesn’t star MGR. Its writing does not fluidly meld politics and a solid plot the way older DMK films did. Instead, it focuses on the party’s messaging ahead of the election, turning an important period in Tamil Nadu’s history and identity into a means to an end.
The film rightly states that protest is a democratic right. Student movements are integral to politics. Police brutality throughout the decades of anti-Hindi agitations cannot be forgotten. It is risky for filmmakers to take on such subjects in these times.
Throwing a wrench into all this, however, is just how tedious Parasakthi is.
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