Shakthi Thirumagan Movie Review: Promising political drama overpowered by preachiness

Power. In this world, which is all about the ones on top governing the kinds of lives lived by the ones on the bottom, power is ultimate. Of course, there is the adage that ‘Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ But when presented with the possibility of having absolute power, there are not many who would deny that opportunity. Shakthi Thirumagan is about a person who refuses to deny that opportunity. One which he carefully crafted over time, greased more than a few palms, did more than his fair share of nefarious activities, and gained the key to ultimate power: information. In many ways, Arun Prabu Purushothaman’s Shakthi Thirumagan is a film about how the biggest power in a democracy, even if it might seem increasingly futile in an intolerant world, is the right to ask the right questions to the right people at the right time to get the right kind of information.

Director: Arun Prabu Purushothaman

Cast: Vijay Antony, Sunil Kripalani, Cell Murugan, Tripthi Ravindra

The film has a fascinating opening where the rape and murder of a tribal woman is made to look like a suicide. The woman leaves behind a young baby, and a political fixer Abhyankar (Sunil Kripalani), who is behind this ‘fixing’ asks a police officer to leave no living traces. And no points for guessing who this young baby grows up into… and interestingly, Kittu (Vijay Antony) is the new fixer, and, in a weird twist of fate, is working with Abhyankar as one of his cronies. But unbeknownst to the bigger powers that be, Kittu runs his own little empire where he uses so many powerful names as mere pawns to set his multiple games afoot. Everything Kittu does is a calculative move, including his marriage to Vembu (Tripthi Ravindra). Every phone call he makes has an ulterior motive. There is not an honest bone in his body, but it doesn’t mean he is a bad guy either. As a character says later in the film, “Kittu has a Robin Hood syndrome.”

Arun Prabu doesn’t take long to establish the world of Kittu that is filled with people owing one to him, he owing one to people, and random people helping random people out without knowing the actual impacts of their random acts. Over the years, Kittu has developed a huge network, but there is a bigger ulterior motive behind the multiple smaller ulterior motives. Since the audience is made aware of this bigger ulterior motive, the only way to keep us engrossed is by showing the world of lobbying, the shadiness of political manoeuvres, and the illusion of power in these hands. However, Arun Prabu rushes through all of this, without giving so much as a breather to actually understand the modus operandi of Kittu. We are just told that he is smart, and manipulative, and we even see how he orchestrates a job transfer here, a recovery of bribe money there, removing a minister from his post, and even the murder of an elected representative, all with a phone call. Now, this is engrossing because there are so many things happening at breakneck speed, and the editing of Raymond Derrick Crasta and Dinsa doesn’t allow our attention to falter. Yes, there are a lot of things being said, but we are just seeing events unfold, and it keeps things engrossing. But then, soon enough, Arun Prabu decides to make this Robin Hood a not-so-entertaining raconteur, who just goes on and on about power, corruption, democracy, power, money, autocracy, power, bureaucracy, and… yes, you guessed it right, power.

The film wants to be a lot of things, and forgets that the reason why the ‘Shankar padam’ formula worked really well was that there was coherence about the needs and wants of the protagonist. Kicha, the protagonist in Gentleman, was as Robin Hood-like as Shakthi Thirumagan’s Kittu. Then there’s Shankar’s Sivaji, and even other protagonists like the Shankeresque Azad from Atlee-Shah Rukh Khan’s Jawan. But Arun Prabu, who has an over-the-top and almost-invincible masala hero at the centre of his story, goes the verbose way instead of the action way. Two really long stretches just have the protagonist do almost nothing, except talk. An overarching sense of dullness pervades both these stretches, and it feels like we are forced to sit through a lecture that never ends, and forces random ideas down our throats. While these lectures have their heart in the right place, they are more of a social media post and less of a film. Except for a neat flashback, which sows the seeds of a curious rebel in Kittu’s mind, the second half knots itself into a complex and unnecessary mess.

It is actually disappointing that Shakthi Thirumagan gets affected by the curious case of the abysmal second half because a lot of things go right in the first. It properly establishes the power of the people on top, and how the ‘lower’ lives can scurry and thrive in their own worlds, as long as the powerful don’t train their focus on them. It shows the futility of going against the system, but still revels in its masala-heroism tag that sets up a fight between the powers that be and the powers that can be. With the film comprising a myriad of possibilities, the way everything unfolds as a boring lecture in a post-lunch session becomes its biggest undoing.

But underneath all that mess, there are glimpses of what the film could have been. That flashback about ideologies, and the need to question everything, including the status quo. That fight between an old and experienced fixer-turned-kingmaker and a new fixer-hoping-to-turn-kingmaker could have been an even more fascinating contest between two ambitious and chaotic personalities. The random romantic sidetrack shows how this man, without any strings attached in the world, unwittingly finds a thread to hold on to. The faithful sidekick, who sticks by the protagonist through everything, but isn’t above questioning him about the logic and reasoning of his actions. A police officer, who understands that he is just a pawn in all of this, but still does what he has to do. And a Lord of the white collar crime, who knows what absolute power can do, and wants it at any cost.

Shakthi Thirumagan takes all of this, sets the stage, and primes it for a fiery encore, only to douse it all down with a dreary and never-ending barrage of ‘lessons’. Remember Arun Prabu’s very own Vaazhl, a film filled with life lessons, monologues, conversations, a utopian world, and a revelation about life that comes out of nowhere? Shakthi Thirumagan is a louder, masala-fied version of the film, but the hardest punch in the gut comes when Arun’s distinct voice gets drowned out by a chorus of loud and powerful voices, in this cinema equivalent of a dreamer turning into a pragmatist.