@ursstoryteller there’s a clear line between criticism and what people have been doing to him. the constant trolling, morphs, edited photos, and dragging him into unrelated issues crossed that line a long time ago.
Many thoughts on #DC (possible spoilers):
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What pleasure it is to hear Anirudh in form inside a theatre. What pleasure it is to watch him dictate pace, to watch him orchestrate mass moments with his choice of music. It’s incredible that the very first strains of Raga of Revenge around the interval are enough to create such loud anticipation in the theatre that whatever follows, visually, almost feels like a bonus. The music is a main course here. DC is full of great tracks, and you already know this; in this film, they act as lifelines, punctuating and accentuating this violent film with emotion and swagger.
With Arun Matheswaran, you always know you’ll get style of the visual variety. You expect him to play with light and shadow. Wamiqa’s Chandra, in particular, seems to arrive wrapped in many visual ideas. In one shot, she’s swallowed by darkness, only the line of her hair catching the light like a silver lining. The metaphor writes itself. In another, she gets a glorious mass moment as she storms into a police stronghold. And then there’s that wide shot in the water, where Chandra and Lokesh’s Devadas seem like the only two people left in the world... which, for them, they probably are. It’s such a beautiful image. In Arun’s films, you’re always going to get memorable imagery like this, and sometimes that’s reward enough.
But this time, he’s further got the backing of one of cinema’s most time-tested protagonist archetypes: the Devdas™. “Dhevadhaas,” as Lokesh puts it. This character type will remain relevant so long as there’s love to be lost and loneliness to be felt. I’d never considered this before, but sometimes, there’s something strangely comforting about watching someone suffer in cinema, like a reminder that you aren't the only one.
Loki’s Devadas knows exactly what I mean because the women he’s drawn to seem to be carrying as much suffering as he is, as much trauma as he is. Sanjana’s Parvathi sings of melancholia: Uravugal Thodarkadhai, Nilave Ennidam Nerungaadhe… Every time she sings, it feels as though something inside her breaks more. That's the idea anyway. I suspect Devadas isn’t too different. Every time he hurts someone, something inside him seems to fracture. He even registers this in that conversation with her where he admits that unlike her, he doesn’t enjoy what he does. When you’re hurt inside, it feels like you have only two paths: hurt yourself, or hurt the world. Parvathi chooses the former. Devadas, it seems, chooses the latter. I like that there’s enough in this film to warrant such meditation.
Devadas might have rebounded to Chandra (Wamiqa) because she ‘looks’ like Parvathi. But the truth is, she resembles him in a far deeper way even if he doesn't recognise it immediately. She’s reeling under as much grief and pain as he is. And I’ve always been a sucker for the hopeful idea that when you rescue someone else, you inadvertently rescue yourself too. In DC, Chandra is like a hurt puppy who knows almost nothing of the world, nothing of what freedom even looks like. Watch her stare at the sun as though she’s seeing daylight for the first time. Watch her mimic Devadas, believing, quite understandably, that his violent ways are simply how one escapes pain. So when Devadas’ friends begin to consider abandoning him, you can immediately understand why Chandra can’t, why Chandra won't. He was the light that found her in darkness.
I also loved the way Wamiqa handles a gun in this film: awkwardly, passionately, almost maniacally. She has so much archived pain that the bullets never seem enough. Watch her completely lose herself after killing that doctor. Only Devadas could have brought her back from that place… and he does.
Lokesh Kanagaraj is a fantastic fit for this protagonist, and DC makes for such an impressive acting debut. He struts around, this trigger-happy man of few words, with swagger, his unruly curls giving him the silhouette of an uncaged lion. I especially liked him in the smaller moments. The split second where he first catches sight of Chandra and almost sees Parvathi in her. The few seconds it takes him to register that Chandra has come in guns blazing for him. For once, and perhaps even for the first time, someone else is rescuing him. The wonderfully casual way he smashes a carrom board over someone’s head before saying, “Ipdi dhaan board aada varum.” Even something as simple as “Ava peru Chandra da…” lands with surprising force.
This Devadas is likeable because even though he drinks, even though he’s miserable, even though he’s unkempt, he’s no sloucher. He’s a man of action, partly because of the restlessness within him, but also because the establishment refuses to let him stand still. Once Chandra becomes his companion, the film quietly begins flirting with Bonnie and Clyde. Not in plot, but in spirit. Two damaged lovers discovering that the only place they truly belong is beside each other, guns in hand, with the world closing in around them. Arun shoots them accordingly too. One particularly striking image has them emerging from smoke, firing into the unknown, looking less like outlaws than two people who have finally found somewhere they can call home. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind following these two for another film, no matter where they go.
Perhaps Kitty’s constant irritability does become a little repetitive. Perhaps that father angle doesn’t land as emotionally as it ought to. Perhaps the education thread doesn’t feel quite as central to the film as it seems to believe. But none of this seriously dampens a film whose violence becomes catharsis not just for Devadas, but for us too.
My favourite idea in the film arrives when Devadas and gang have run out of money, and Chandra devises a beautiful plan that preys on the dual nature of her male clients, on their shame. In that passage, you realise that while she’s the sex worker condemned by everyone around her, she’s perhaps the only one with a truly clear conscience. Society often likes to define purity through profession, body count, sexual desire, even one’s tendency towards violence. Sometimes it has nothing to do with any of that. Sometimes purity is simply having the instinct to save another human being just because you can. And who knows? Like Devadas, you might discover that in saving someone else, you were quietly saving yourself all along.
no promotional interview from loki or arun, no proper AL, clash with spiderman
my dear silent killers @Dir_Lokesh, @anirudhofficial, @ArunMatheswaran trusted the content more than anything 💥