As a series of dots were arranged to form the words SUPER STAR on the screen, there was a harmony of whistles. Yet, I also noticed something about the background score: as far as I could remember, this score was not the signature tune with which the words appeared. Was this meant to signal a departure from what one has come to expect from his movies? I hoped so, and also that the departure would be worthwhile.
There were howls, roars, and more whistles as Thalaiva appeared on the screen for the first time, and the audio arrangement persisted for much of the introductory sequence as he traded the prisoner's garb for an elegant suit, an exquisite wrist watch, and shades that only he could possibly carry off. Briefly, we were able to hear the conversations among the characters, till they arrived at the site where the 'title monologue' would be uttered by Thalaiva. The roars reached a crescendo as we saw Thaliava gesticulate and mouth the now immortal lines packaged into the trailer. Of course, we never got to hear those lines at the theatre.
Kabali was a gang leader released from prison having served a long sentence. Everyone had gathered as much from the trailer and the opening sequence of the movie that was doing the rounds on WhatsApp. We had come to find out what Kabali would do having emerged. Would the rest of the movie be a saga of vengeance against his foes, perhaps in relation to the killing of his beloved, pregnant wife? Or, would he be ridding the Malaysian capital of malaise that had gathered round the city in the time he was incarcerated? The intimations were that it would be a mix of both. I wondered if this would be Rajinikanth's Sarkar moment, when he plays a benevolent, righteous, extrapolitical governor, wielding more power and influence than the ordained orders of authority. I certainly hoped it would be.
As he went around bashing skulls, lacerating limbs, and gashing faces, as well as occassionally riveting bullets into the bodies of a variety of worthies and their worthless henchmen, it became clear he had set out to find his wife. His loyal associates and even a part of him, however, believed she had been killed, justifying the gory violence alluded to earlier. Yet, in keeping with the hopes he had, the punches always followed polite queries about his wife, polished off with the portentous punch-line 'Magizhchi'. The violence is not merely about the past, though, and is aimed at dismantling an empire of drugs and trafficking - an empire Kabali had sought to abort in its fetal days before his prison stint. In those tender moments, when memories of his wife tide over his quest for revenge and righteousness, we see Kabali longing for her, even hallucinating her presence, and to a point that leaves him oblivious to the constant threat his life is under. These snatches are interwoven with the violent streaks. I for one found them to be more convincing than the sterilized periods of romance, righteousness, revenge, and rhetoric that march on cue to complete a formulaic Rajini movie.
Along the way, his foes are sufficiently worried by him and hire a contract killer to put him to death. Unknown to them and to Kabali, the contract killer is the latter's daughter - a plot twist that plodded in having howled its arrival very much in advance. The daughter pursues Kabali to keep him safe rather than to shoot him down, and in the sequence in which she reveals the secret, fights and kills more foes than Kabali himself, though he is too overcome with emotion having found someone to call his own, to recognize and take pride in his little girl's martial skills.
After Kabali is shot at, but inexplicably, yet characteristically, survives, father and daughter start seeking the mother, and eventually find her in the South of India. Though the cause for revenge may have got diluted, Kabali is duty-bound to restore righteousness in society, and they return to Malaysia. On their arrival, they find a super villain has returned to KL, and is picking off Kabali's associates and attacking all the edifying establishments set up by Kabali. And lo and behold, it is time for the climactic clash!
Strangely, having started off with the promise of something like Sarkar, the plot peters out. It is as if the director was racked to choose between pursuing his plot to perfection and matching the machismo Rajini has had in his previous hits. Giving in to external or internal dictates - he could be a Thalaiva fan himself, could he not? - the director lets Kabali loose. Without an iota of scheming, Kabali's men and the KL police team up to launch a mult-pronged attack on all the illegal activities of the super villain and his gang, while Kabali and the super villain are staring each other down at a birthday party. I could have been accused of nitpicking, but when the story-teller decides to let you know why Kabali wears a suit in sunny KL, you'd certainly expect him to tell you how Kabali and the police came together.
Eventually, the hero effortlessly dodges more bullets than he expertly plumbs into his opponents to be the last man standing; well, at least until he is joined by his wife and daughter, his associates, and the people under his patronage! A hand that could have been pulling the strings with great mastery is left pulling the trigger with jading routine.
And yes, the movie ends with a whimper that I suppose is meant to leave the door ajar for a sequel.
There were howls, roars, and more whistles as Thalaiva appeared on the screen for the first time, and the audio arrangement persisted for much of the introductory sequence as he traded the prisoner's garb for an elegant suit, an exquisite wrist watch, and shades that only he could possibly carry off. Briefly, we were able to hear the conversations among the characters, till they arrived at the site where the 'title monologue' would be uttered by Thalaiva. The roars reached a crescendo as we saw Thaliava gesticulate and mouth the now immortal lines packaged into the trailer. Of course, we never got to hear those lines at the theatre.
Kabali was a gang leader released from prison having served a long sentence. Everyone had gathered as much from the trailer and the opening sequence of the movie that was doing the rounds on WhatsApp. We had come to find out what Kabali would do having emerged. Would the rest of the movie be a saga of vengeance against his foes, perhaps in relation to the killing of his beloved, pregnant wife? Or, would he be ridding the Malaysian capital of malaise that had gathered round the city in the time he was incarcerated? The intimations were that it would be a mix of both. I wondered if this would be Rajinikanth's Sarkar moment, when he plays a benevolent, righteous, extrapolitical governor, wielding more power and influence than the ordained orders of authority. I certainly hoped it would be.
As he went around bashing skulls, lacerating limbs, and gashing faces, as well as occassionally riveting bullets into the bodies of a variety of worthies and their worthless henchmen, it became clear he had set out to find his wife. His loyal associates and even a part of him, however, believed she had been killed, justifying the gory violence alluded to earlier. Yet, in keeping with the hopes he had, the punches always followed polite queries about his wife, polished off with the portentous punch-line 'Magizhchi'. The violence is not merely about the past, though, and is aimed at dismantling an empire of drugs and trafficking - an empire Kabali had sought to abort in its fetal days before his prison stint. In those tender moments, when memories of his wife tide over his quest for revenge and righteousness, we see Kabali longing for her, even hallucinating her presence, and to a point that leaves him oblivious to the constant threat his life is under. These snatches are interwoven with the violent streaks. I for one found them to be more convincing than the sterilized periods of romance, righteousness, revenge, and rhetoric that march on cue to complete a formulaic Rajini movie.
Along the way, his foes are sufficiently worried by him and hire a contract killer to put him to death. Unknown to them and to Kabali, the contract killer is the latter's daughter - a plot twist that plodded in having howled its arrival very much in advance. The daughter pursues Kabali to keep him safe rather than to shoot him down, and in the sequence in which she reveals the secret, fights and kills more foes than Kabali himself, though he is too overcome with emotion having found someone to call his own, to recognize and take pride in his little girl's martial skills.
After Kabali is shot at, but inexplicably, yet characteristically, survives, father and daughter start seeking the mother, and eventually find her in the South of India. Though the cause for revenge may have got diluted, Kabali is duty-bound to restore righteousness in society, and they return to Malaysia. On their arrival, they find a super villain has returned to KL, and is picking off Kabali's associates and attacking all the edifying establishments set up by Kabali. And lo and behold, it is time for the climactic clash!
Strangely, having started off with the promise of something like Sarkar, the plot peters out. It is as if the director was racked to choose between pursuing his plot to perfection and matching the machismo Rajini has had in his previous hits. Giving in to external or internal dictates - he could be a Thalaiva fan himself, could he not? - the director lets Kabali loose. Without an iota of scheming, Kabali's men and the KL police team up to launch a mult-pronged attack on all the illegal activities of the super villain and his gang, while Kabali and the super villain are staring each other down at a birthday party. I could have been accused of nitpicking, but when the story-teller decides to let you know why Kabali wears a suit in sunny KL, you'd certainly expect him to tell you how Kabali and the police came together.
Eventually, the hero effortlessly dodges more bullets than he expertly plumbs into his opponents to be the last man standing; well, at least until he is joined by his wife and daughter, his associates, and the people under his patronage! A hand that could have been pulling the strings with great mastery is left pulling the trigger with jading routine.
And yes, the movie ends with a whimper that I suppose is meant to leave the door ajar for a sequel.
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