In 2021, Basil Joseph gave us Minnal Murali, a superhero who wears a Kerala thorthu and runs around in a lungi. It’s only in the climax that he gets his skinsuit and cape. Pulling off a feat like this without the intimidating budgets of DC and Marvel is a superhero act in itself, and Minnal Murali worked largely because the director knew just how ambitious they could get with the premise. Madonne Ashwin’s idea of a superhero in Maaveeran is even simpler – this guy doesn’t even need a cape. All he hears is a voice in his head, and he knows exactly what to do. The simplicity of the idea is brilliant, and Ashwin succeeds in executing it with only a few bumps along the way.
The title comes from the 1986 Rajinikanth film which revolves around a haughty princess and a commoner. There is an ilavarasi in Ashwin’s Maaveeran too, and the film opens with an animated cartoon strip about a superhero saving a princess. This introduces us to the artist, Sathya (Sivakarthikeyan), but it also mirrors a crucial sequence in the film. The clever allusion to the Rajinikanth film sets up a certain expectation that works to the film’s advantage.
The legacy comic that Sathya is drawing for a newspaper might be based on a brave superhero who is hellbent on saving people, but the artist is his opposite. Sathya stays away from trouble, choosing evasion and pacifism over confrontations and fights. If his mother (an excellent Saritha) is always pulling up her hair and preparing for war, Sathya is forever persuading her to withdraw. His sister Raji (Monisha Blessy) is the third corner in the family, but she doesn’t have much to do other than act as a bridge between mother and son.
It all begins when the family is evicted, along with others in the crowded urban settlement where they live, and asked to move to a grand apartment building called ‘Makkal Maaligai’ (people’s palace). When something is too good to be true, it probably is. Makkal Maaligai, the people soon realise, is an illusion. Everything is shake-y and quake-y and nobody knows what to do about it.
Vijay Sethupathi has a presence all through the film as Maveeran’s voice -- the voice that Sathya can’t get rid of after a pivotal episode. This is, of course, the superhero premise but it can just as well be read as Sathya’s conscience rebelling against his rational brain that tells him to stay low and keep out of trouble. Though we never see his face, VJS’s commentary is distinctly him and therefore, just as entertaining as we expect the star to be.
There have been several films where the cowardly, submissive hero becomes brave and starts throwing punches. In Maaveeran, it’s not until the final stretch that Sathya firmly grabs that part of the story arc. Till then, he’s punching but also apologising. It’s not him, it’s the voice in his head, he tells the disbelieving people. Sivakarthikeyan has certainly grown as an actor, and the action choreography in the film is its highlight. Bharath Sankar’s background score has the right amount of playfulness that’s necessary for such sequences to work. Kudos also to the director for not shooting a sexual assault scene but having a character refer to it in dialogue. Depicting violence against women in graphic detail to emphasise the righteousness of the hero’s cause is a cheap cinematic trick that needs to be binned, and Maaveeran makes that sensitive choice.
Aditi Shankar plays Nila, a subeditor in the newspaper that publishes Maaveeran. The young actor does well in the role, but the director seems to have forgotten about her in the second half. She randomly appears in Sathya’s house whenever there’s an issue, rushing towards him and looking worried. Though she is presented as an assertive journalist, the character is reduced to twiddling her thumbs when any media person worth their salt would have found a way to pursue the issue.
That’s the fundamental problem with Maaveeran. The film operates in a world where only Makkal Maaligai exists. Nobody thinks of involving a few Opposition leaders to address their issue, make a YouTube video, or even do a dharna. Not even after a baby is severely wounded due to the poor construction. The people are strangely ‘apolitical’, even though there is an election around the corner. Minister Jeyakodi (a formidable Mysskin) and his PA (Sunil) make for good antagonists despite the sketchy writing – you’d think that in this age of smartphones, someone would make a video of the men openly attempting murder and put it on social media. But this never occurs to the Makkal Maaligai residents. Beyond yelling and wailing, they do nothing at all.
The villains, too, seem to have no fresh ideas beyond beating up Sathya, even after discovering that this isn’t going to stop him. Nevertheless, the dynamic between Mysskin and Sunil makes for a refreshing change from the cardboard villains who’ve become dime-a-dozen in Tamil star vehicles.
Yogi Babu plays a Tamil construction worker who pretends to be a Hindi speaker and is genuinely funny after a long time. When he signs his name in Tamil and draws a line over the letters to make it look like Hindi, you wish the comedian would do more of this and less of his brand of body-shaming humour. His one-liners and expressions are often laugh-out-loud funny and keep the film afloat.
The pacing of the second half feels slow, with the premise starting to feel repetitive, but there is enough going on in Maaveeran to keep you invested till the end. Is there a sequel on the cards? There is a good possibility that Sathya’s conscience – the voice of the common people – will continue to speak up if the box office rings.
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 producers or any other members of its cast and crew.
Sowmya Rajendran writes on gender, culture, and cinema. She has written over 25 books, including a nonfiction book on gender for adolescents. She was awarded the Sahitya Akademi’s Bal Sahitya Puraskar for her novel Mayil Will Not Be Quiet in 2015. Views expressed are the author's own.