Thaai Kizhavi Movie Review: Radikaa Sarathkumar powers a grandmother’s tale rooted in truth, honesty, and a whole lot of fun

Thaai Kizhavi Movie Review:

Money. In a world that is all about division, money holds the ultimate power to make you breach such hierarchies. Of course, it also results in the decimation of a few age-old structures, but that’s par for the course in a world that doesn’t wait for people to catch up. But is money really the ultimate thing? Does the presence or lack of it really determine your worth in the world? As a character in the debutant filmmaker Sivakumar Murugesan's film says, “Has any parent refused to take care of their child because they didn’t have the financial resources?” One might think it is a poignant tale of parents and children, and how the world treats the geriatric. In a way, Thaai Kizhavi is definitely that kind of a film, but it is also a film that makes you unabashedly laugh out loud with a consistency that has been missing in Tamil cinema for quite a while.  

Pavunuthaayi (A terrific Radikaa Sarathkumar) is a much-reviled matriarch for her money-mindedness, acerbic tongue, and an overall demeanour that makes everyone run away from her very presence. Her village folk hate her. Her sons hate her. Her daughters-in-law hate her. And yet, she champions on without a care in the world. If she is the heart of Thaai Kizhavi, the soul of the film is this very world she inhabits. So, when she finds herself bedridden due to a sudden ailment, the soul takes over, making the film a superlative example of a true-blue ensemble coming together to give their individual best while serving a singular common purpose: to entertain. 

Director: Sivakumar Murugesan

Cast: Radikaa Sarathkumar, Bala Saravanan, Raichal Rabecca

Once Pavunuthaayi falls sick, the other players step into the narrative one after another. She has three sons — a Kamal Haasan fan who owns a sound service (Singampuli), a money-minded autorickshaw driver (Aruldoss), a bumbling flower seller (Bala Saravanan) — and a quiet and composed daughter (Raichal Rabecca) and her TV-loving son, who stays with Pavunuthaayi. There is her son-in-law, a dowry-seeking wastrel (Muthukumar), and a good-hearted but unmarried neighbour (Munishkanth). There are also her daughters-in-law, a bunch of neighbours, and a drunk who has conversations with god that bring the roof down. Just when everyone is rejoicing at the impending death of the grinch who stole their Christmas, Deepavali, and whatnots, the proverbial twist in the story finds a way through Kumar (Ilavarasu). Now, her family has to keep her alive till they find out a secret. 

From here, the film could have gone on any trajectory and still reached its ending, but Sivakumar’s decision to make it a no-holds-barred laugh riot holds the film in great stead. While Radikaa appears for just over 30-40 minutes of this 140-minute film, her presence looms over every single moment. But when she goes missing in action, Sivakumar not just uses the characters and their machinations to a ‘T’, he showcases an immense grasp of creating moments and hitting us with one comic punch after another. In this endeavour, he is not only aided by his excellent cast but also by his choice of songs, courtesy of Kamal Haasan’s films. 

If Radikaa is the heart, and the world of Thaai Kizhavi is the soul, some of the greatest hits of Kamal Haasan are the chords that tug at the heartstrings of the soul. Sivakumar Murugesan’s usage of these songs and the hyper-localised characters adds so much sheen to the narrative that Thaai Kizhavi is on top gear right from the first frame. What really keeps the film ticking is giving each of the principal characters a great scene, and the dialogues that has such authenticity that even when the film ventures into preachy territory, we never flinch. Sivakumar isn’t interested in this kind of theatrics. However, it doesn’t stop him from giving his characters a monologue or two to establish the film's moral compass. Here, the melodrama works. This astute understanding of when to dial up the drama, when to dial up the fun, and when to dial them both down reflects a filmmaker with a firm grasp of his craft.  

The reason why Thaai Kizhavi transcends from being a slice-of-life rural comedy to a massy commercial comic caper is the towering presence of Radikaa. The way she terrorises the people who have taken money from her makes one think if she is someone we rally behind. Pavunuthayi’s antics do not inspire us, but we can’t help but be in awe of it, and it is largely thanks to Radikaa, who effortlessly embodies a character so far from her own reality that it serves as a reminder of why the tag of ‘Kalai Arasi’ isn’t a commercial requirement or an afterthought, but a crown that sits lightly on one of our greatest. 

If Radikaa brings in her years of experience to make Pavunuthaayi one of the more enterprising protagonists in recent times, the rest of the cast rally around her and yet shine bright when they get their spot in the sun. Aathadi Kumaran playing the drunk guy who challenges, threatens, pleads, begs, and slowly accepts God, and even becomes a godman himself, is the find of the film, and it is through his eyes that Sivakumar Murugesan explores the idea of divinity, the importance of belief, and punches up to question the idea of religious identity and the politics surrounding it. But, since the weapon of his choice is humour, even the slightest sense of resentment is trumped by the sounds of laughter.

Then, we have Bala Saravanan, who always makes us smile in the film, but it is the moment where he moves us to tears that he stands out as a performer. The same holds for Munishkanth, who wonderfully portrays a character torn between needs and desires and a sense of empathy. Muthukumar gets to showcase his comic side to great effect, and Singampuli oscillates between comedy and sentiment with the ease of a veteran. Raichal’s monologue about why Pavunuthaayi is the way she is is another showcase of the scene-stealing ability of the actor, who consistently proves that screen time is the least of her worries. It is only Aruldoss who is painted as largely one-note, and the same holds good for the actors who play the wives of these three men. They are extremely funny and bring a sense of native authenticity to the film, but are given the short end of the stick because the film focuses on the five-and-a-half men and Pavunuthaayi. 

Just as every actor, including Radikaa, serves the film without overshadowing the filmmaker's vision, composer Nivas K Prasanna and cinematographer Vivek Vijayakumar wonderfully play along with the narrative without ever putting the cart before the horse. Even the various Kamal Haasan songs used throughout the film wonderfully elevate the proceedings and fuel an emotional upheaval. At the same time, the writing effectively brings us back to the story of Pavunuthayi and her family. Sivakumar has used every tool at his disposal to tell the story he wants, and he has used it not just effectively but judiciously.

Of course, a strong message comes to the fore in the final act, like in movies of yore. There are questions asked about the sanctity of marriage. There are points put forth about the need for financial freedom. There are insights alluded to about being a woman in a man’s world. But Sivakumar Murugesan’s strength not just lies in the direct questions he poses, but also in the subtle nudges he peppers throughout the film. When Pavunuthaayi ensures her friends, who are now relegated to the outside of the house, hoping to be fed a meal or two, are fed the choicest of meats, the film tells us how actually caring for someone is completely different from looking after someone. When Pavunuthaayi’s grandson points out how it is stupid to pray for the death of someone at the slightest inconvenience, it reminds us that empathy doesn’t always have to be taught or spelled out. And thankfully, Thaai Kizhavi doesn’t take the conventional line that there are other things in the world more important than money. 

At the end of the day, our worth is determined by the money we have. It is what we have that decides who we are in this society. Of course, having the right people around us doesn’t hurt, but money is the ultimate power. Thaai Kizhavi urges women worldwide not just to know how to amass it but also to wield it responsibly. This power, much like energy, can be transformed, and unlike energy, can also be transferred. And if the financial freedom associated with money isn’t exercised to its fullest and used to empower oneself and those around, money is just powerless paper. If this isn’t the most important kizhavi kadhai out there, then what is?