Addiction. Who doesn’t want to be enamoured by the world of cinema? Even if the ‘industry’ isn’t the biggest draw, can one truly say they don’t like the fame, the name, the money, the adulation, the respect, the following, or… the high? Of course, there is also the flip side of undue attention, overwhelming criticism, a lack of personal space, and never-ending trolling, etc. But still, how many members of the cinema fraternity who complain about the negatives of being in the industry ever quit it? You still need the same name and fame to create a life that is seemingly untouched by the same name and fame. It is a game that has been played for over a century, and it will continue to be played till time and cinema exist. And director Selvamani Selvaraj decides to tell the story of a handful of players of this game, who were prolific in the 40s and 50s, in Kaantha… a grey-tinted look at the world of cinema.

Director: Selvamani Selvaraj

Cast: Dulquer Salmaan, Bhagyashri Borse, Samuthirakani, Rana Daggubati

Kaantha begins on a rainy day, in a dimly-lit corridor, with haunting music, an ominous figure entering the famous Modern Studios, a door creaking open, and two gunshots. It is a personal favourite cold open, which was used wonderfully in Sriram Raghavan’s rockstar debut, Johnny Gaddar. However, before delving into the whodunnit and who-died-in-it, Kaantha decides to bring together all the pieces of the puzzle. We have mercurial filmmaker Ayya (Samuthirakani), who is set to restart his dream project, which was stalled a few years back. There is the doe-eyed Kumari (Bhagyashri Borse), who is set to play the titular role in Ayya’s dream film. And then there is the Superstar of the times, TK Mahadevan (Dulquer Salmaan), who returns to star in his mentor’s film after having a rather public fallout due to an ego clash. While these pieces prance around the sets of the film inside the film, and indulge in a tale of one-upmanship, blossoming adultery, unbridled ego, heights of dizzying fame, the short memory of the public, and misplaced anger, the film soars and suffers in not-so-equal measure. 

What use are the pieces of a puzzle if you aren’t shown what they should look like when they are all put together? The film takes too long a time to mount the clash between Ayya and TKM, the romance between TKM and Kumari, the protege-mentor relationship between Ayya-Kumari and Ayya-TKM, and the magic of black-and-white cinema. The dialogues are wonderful, and they add a beautiful old-world charm without trying too hard. It also doesn’t alienate us from the setting by choosing archaic lines. When TKM looks at Kumari, and asks, “Which is more beautiful? Is it the moon that is afar, or the woman who is near?” it might seem cringey on paper… but on screen, it plays out like a poem that reminds us of how love always finds a way. 

While we feel enamoured by the visual grandeur of this world, one can’t help but feel a sense of exhaustion from the world-building that might even make one forget that the film began with a murder. Kaantha goes to so many places that the cold-blooded murder gets buried under the visual and aural splendour, and performances that you can’t take your eyes off. 

In fact, this neo-noir film travels along in first gear for too long, and when it finally switches gears with the arrival of investigating officer Poirot… I mean, Phoenix (Rana Daggubati), Kaantha is injected with much-needed adrenaline. In fact, the investigative portions of Kaantha are in stark contrast with the leisurely pace of the film-inside-a-film of the first half. While Phoenix and Kaathu (Bagavathi Perumal) give a Closeau-Reno or an Inspector-Sambandham vibe, it doesn’t get explored enough because they have to get back to the murder case at hand. While this judiciousness is laudable, the absence of the same in the sprawling first half proves to be quite the deterrent. But it isn’t like the investigative angle is a gift that keeps on giving. There is a sense of hurriedness that doesn’t bode well for the film. The red herrings are super obvious, and the foreshadowing is far from subtle. If not for Rana’s unbelievable energy, these scenes could have lucked out. Also, the investigative portions are contained within the confines of a film set, almost like the final act of an Agatha Christie novel, where every suspect is assembled in the same room, and the detective has a field day in gradually unfurling the crime before pointing out the killer and going… “Aha! You did it…”

But neither Phoenix nor the audience gets this moment because Selvamani decides to remove Kaantha from the upbeat investigative film and place it right back in the first half, where emotional beats were the base rhythm. These tonal shifts don’t really work in this film simply because there is a lack of solid clutch play. Kaantha hits more than its fair share of bumps on the road, and sometimes, manages to stutter even when there aren’t any. But through it all, Kaantha is really held together by superlative performances by the principal cast, and the superior production value of the film, courtesy cinematographer Dani Sanchez-Lopez, composers Jakes Bejoy (background score) and Jhanu Chanthar (songs and themes), and production design by Ramalingam. The world of Kaantha is beautifully structured and lit, and it is a 163-minute equivalent of the statement, ‘Every frame is a painting.’” 

There is something about Bhagyashri Borse, who makes a stellar debut in Tamil with Kaantha. She exudes a certain sense of allure that was seen in the glow of 50s world cinema. There is so much to like about Bhagyashri, whose Kumari is so full of life despite the underlying sadness of being a woman torn between love and loyalty. In fact, there is a scene where they are filming her close-up, and she aces the scene so well that TKM, Ayya, and the rest of the film-inside-the-film crew break into applause. It just felt like an extension of the audience’s response to that scene. Her styling and the costumes only accentuate her performance, which is so on point, and stands toe-to-toe with someone like Dulquer, who has made period films his bread and butter. Dulquer’s TKM is inspired by the life and times of Superstar MK Thyagaraja Bhagavathar, and the actor plays him with pizzazz and an enchanting aura. It isn’t easy because TKM isn’t a caricature. Be it his anger, his love, his anguish, his betrayal, his despair, his irritation, his happiness, his tears, and even his pained smiles, Dulquer wonderfully embodies the kind of acting one expects from a film of the 40s and 50s, and yet, makes it relevant for someone watching the film in 2025. Samuthirakani displays quiet restraint when needed and gives an outburst of bitterness stemming from a place of malice, and yet, doesn’t turn Ayya into an antagonist. And… Rana is a show-stealer who gives us a police officer deserving of a spin-off feature! Time for ‘Inspector Phoenix and the Last Train to Arakkonam’ or something.

But just underneath all the gloss, the glitter, the genre shifts, the gumption, and a story grappling for attention, there is a film that needed to decide what it truly wants to be. Could this have been a whodunnit right from the word go, instead of taking an unnecessarily long but gorgeous detour? Should this have been a fiercer exploration of the vagaries of cinema and how history has always been written by those who held immense power? Would this have benefitted from an actual Poirot-meets-Benoit Blanc kind of character at the helm instead of training all its focus on a track that engages sparingly but is kind of all over the place? And more importantly, what might have happened if Selvamani decided to bring to the fore the lore of making Tamil cinema’s first horror film, and painted Kaantha as a neo-noir horror with a biographical touch, almost like a slightly sobered-down Om Shanti Om, set in the 50s? The possibilities are limitless, and that’s why the highs were super high, and the lows of Kaantha were devastating. But what can be done now? “Forget it, makkale… This is Kodambakkam.”