Acceptance. What makes one accept others? Is it their magnanimity, or education, or sensibilities, or simply empathy and compassion? Well, director Karthik Subbaraj’s Dorothy gives another reason as to why one might accept others. Because some people crave acceptance. Between this acceptance and rejection, two young boys, forced to be something they are not, somehow find what they think is… home. 

Subbu (A terrific Sananth with a career-defining turn) and Karthik (A sublime Rishikanth, proving he is not a one-film wonder) are best friends right from school. Subbu saves Karthik from school bullies, and their friendship is based on understanding what it takes to be a man. One shouldn’t cry. One shouldn’t shy away from a fight. One shouldn’t allow women to dictate things to them. One should know how to eat parottas. But their simple and cheery lives turn upside down when they realise power is gender-neutral, and oppression can happen even to the most alpha of males. But these are side quests in Dorothy, which constantly circles back to vulnerability. In fact, the first time we meet Karthik in the film, he’s on the phone with Subbu’s father, Whistle Veeraiyya (Muthukumar), telling him terrible news. And the first person to cry in Dorothy is the extremely casteist and disgustingly misogynistic Veeraiyya. Karthik plays around with the idea of masculinity throughout the film. Without using the now-accepted terms like ‘toxic masculinity’ or ‘Alpha male’ or ‘Sigma ’, he goes on to show that everyone can be all of this and none of this, and the constant struggle to adhere to labels is crushing the natural selves of many. 

Director: Karthik Subbaraj 

Cast: Sananth, Rishikanth, Keerthy Suresh, Muthukumar

Change begins at home, and that’s probably why Karthik has set the film in his hometown of Madurai. The flaky parottas, the sandy grounds, the empty fields, the rustic ruffians, the benevolent women, the arid weather, the free flow of emotions, and the rawness of the smiles and tears add flavour to a premise that needed such carpets to crawl on. It is easy to preach to the choir, but it isn’t easy to talk to a volatile brick wall. It is in this endeavour that Ilaiyaraaja waltzes in with his score to ease the gradual building of tension. This tension exists not only between the characters in the film, but also between the film and the audience. Ilaiyaraaja, as many times before, becomes the bridge between the visible and the invisibilized. As a famous line goes, “Raaja paathupaaru…” and he does that with gay abandon. Be it in those beautifully choreographed stunt sequences by Dinesh Subbarayan, or the portions where the filmmaker shows how isolation might just allow people to think better, Ilaiyaraaja understands that being with one’s own thoughts isn’t always fancy. And there is something unadulterated about Tirru’s visuals that makes you see Madurai in a new way, which ideally should have been impossible considering the assembly line of films that have Madurai as their base. 

But that’s the thing with Dorothy. It isn’t a story that hasn’t been told on the big screen. It isn’t emotions that haven’t already been explored. And yet, it is a unique film because Karthik Subbaraj gives a very ‘arthouse’ concept a ‘masala’ treatment. When the film is set in Madurai, it is a strong commercial film that hits all the right notes. There is a friendship story where standing up for each other and exacting revenge for each other is like just another Monday. There is a romance that ends in despair. There is a plot about sacrifice and bravery, despite mounting violence, simply because a couple of characters like Dorothy (Keerthy Suresh) and Dhanalakshmi understand what it means to be stifled. In fact, in a beautiful touch, almost all the bloodthirsty characters become slightly more benevolent when they step outside the confines of accepted societal norms. Once they see the world, their understanding of many things changes. In fact, a dreaded gangster, who has left home, says, “Who gave us the permission to say it is time for someone to stop living?” It is Karthik’s way of asking people to peek past the blinders and see a world with room for all kinds of people. 

While many, including yours truly, have reservations about the blurring lines between friendship and romance in Dorothy, haven’t we all seen love blossom at the sight of someone helping people cross the road, or at the slightest brushing of the finger? But that aspect of the film needed more fleshing out, especially since the last act is quite the unexpected detour. You could call it a typical Karthik Subbaraj-ism, but for a film like Dorothy, which enjoys stewing in its emotions, this jump felt inorganic. Of course, Raaja, the safety net, swoops in to save the day, but the feeling of some pages missing in the story is too overwhelming to move past. 

Saying Karthik, Rishikanth, Sananth, or Keerthy were brave takes away from what the film is trying to say. As in, the longer we have to ‘normalise’ something, the longer it remains an ‘offbeat’ story. Why should a story of someone who lives and breathes among us be seen as a story about the ‘others’? The longer we other somebody, the easier it is to ostracise them, and the easier it is to feel like their savior. Through Dorothy, Karthik says something very simple: When ‘giving’ acceptance is the only reason for the existence of many, stripping them of this ‘responsibility’ is the greatest revenge against such voices. The mere existence of Dorothy in this defiant form, in this suffocating space, and in this unforgiving world is the greatest defiance of the violence of acceptance. And that’s why… Dorothy is oru azhagaana Karthik Subbaraj padam.