Madras Matinee Review

Some films do not arrive with grand promotions or heavy expectations but still manages to leave a strong and comforting aftertaste, and Madras Matinee directed by debutant Karthikeyan Mani is one such gem. Released in 2025 with a cast led by Kaali Venkat, Roshini, Sathyaraj, Shelly Kishore and others, the film has a natural charm from the very beginning and progresses like a page from the everyday lives of people around us. With music composed by Bala Sarangan, this film focuses on the subtle emotions and cultural textures that make Tamil middle class life so recognisable.

Speaking of performance, this film is beautifully acted with every character bringing something genuine to the table and no one ever feels out of place or added for the sake of filling space. The beauty lies in how real these people feel, like a family from next door or even fragments of our own. Kaali Venkat proves yet again why he is one of the most underrated actors in the industry, and in this film he takes his craft a notch higher by playing a role that demands restraint, variation, and depth. His ability to switch between humour and emotion without losing grip is something very few actors can achieve and his presence alone becomes the emotional backbone of the film. Roshini and Shelly Kishore also deliver heartfelt performances and together with the rest of the cast, they create a believable world where every character has purpose and meaning. Sathyaraj is the narrator and that decision works wonderfully as his tone adds maturity and credibility to the storytelling, guiding the audience with warmth.

The plot is simple yet strongly relatable, revolving around the everyday ups and downs of middle class life which includes dreams, debts, disappointments and little victories. There is no attempt to create drama and that makes the film feel all the more real and grounded. Though the film does touch upon serious themes, it never becomes tiring because it is handled through subtle humour and natural dialogue. The emotional highs and lows do not feel scripted, instead they resemble moments we have all witnessed at some point in our lives either within our homes or around us. The director does not try to manipulate the audience’s emotions but simply presents life as it is, and that honesty makes the plot close to the heart.

Music plays an impactful role in this film. Bala Sarangan’s background score is effective in both emotional and light-hearted scenes and helps elevate key moments. The songs and the instrumental score blend smoothly with the visuals and emotions without distracting the viewer from the story. Alongside the music, the cinematography and screenplay work hand in hand to keep the film moving at a steady pace. Most of the locations are real and that choice adds to the authenticity of the film. From costumes to set design, everything is done with care and a sense of realism. The camera work is soft and pleasant, making the film feel light even when it touches on difficult themes. 

Madras Matinee stands apart from many so called middle class dramas that often exaggerate pain or melodrama. This film chooses to stay subtle. It presents a series of social observations including caste, colourism, debt cycles and cultural divisions but never in the form of lectures. Instead these issues are embedded within the narrative and emerge naturally through the character's lives and interactions. The director’s choice to use narration and keep the tone consistent was a smart one and adds to the strength of the storytelling. The film also makes space for nostalgia in its purest form with references that evoke memories of growing up, from "thenga barfi to maanja kaathadi".

Madras Matinee is one of the most heartfelt films in recent times and manages to leave a deep impact. It never tries to convince or impress but simply leans on the honesty of its story, the depth of its characters, and the warmth in its tone. Watching this film feels like sitting by the window on a rainy afternoon with a cup of tea in hand.

Rating: 9/10⭐️

Maargan Review

Maargan directed by Leo John Paul featuring Vijay Antony, Ajay Dishan, Brigida and others. The film is a psychological crime narrative that includes several supernatural elements. With music composed by Vijay Antony himself, Maargan positions itself as a serious film that wants to do more than just entertain. While it does succeed in parts, it also leaves behind a trail of unanswered questions that slightly weaken the experience.

The most striking aspect of Maargan is the performance of Ajay Dishan, who plays the role of Tamil Arivu. His portrayal is so layered and nuanced that he becomes the moral anchor of the film. There is a deliberate ambiguity in his character, and the way he presents that balance between good and evil. While the rest of the cast stays subtle and underplayed as the story requires, Ajay’s performance His screen presence is strong.

The core plot of the film is not entirely new, falling into the familiar territory of serial killer mysteries, but the way it is built gives it a sense of freshness. What makes it different is the motive behind the crimes and the inclusion of supernatural elements that are scattered across the storyline. These elements could have easily disrupted the focus or pushed the film into a different genre but to its credit the writing holds them. The twists are meaningful and are placed with enough care to maintain tension. There is clear intent in how the mystery unfolds and that keeps the film engaging for the most part.

Music plays an important role in shaping thrillers, especially when the scenes are built more on tension than action and Vijay Antony’s background score does exactly that. The film does not rely on loud songs or musical detours but instead focuses on creating an atmosphere through its score. The background music rises during the right moments and helps heighten the emotion and suspense without drawing too much attention to itself.

Cinematography is not remarkable. Since most of the film takes place in closed or controlled spaces, it does not have the opportunity to showcase grand visuals. Still the camera work stays focused and consistent that captures the mood without distraction. But the screenplay deserves more praise. For a film of this scale, the writing maintains a steady pace, with a sense of seriousness. It never drags and the screenplay plays a major role in delivering the tension, especially during the reveal sequences and twists.

That said, Maargan does stumble in certain areas especially when it comes to the supernatural elements that remain unexplained. These moments lack context and take away from the believability of the film. When a thriller mixes logic with fantasy, there needs to be a clear balance or at least a reason behind the unexplained and that is something this film misses. There are also a few scenic flaws and inconsistencies in how some scenes are edited or structured, which make certain portions feel abruptly placed.

At times the film also shifts its focus, with scenes that feel disconnected or lacking in proper reasoning. These gaps in logic are not addressed and the lack of explanation makes it harder to stay invested. Certain transitions lack clarity. These are small details, but they matter in a film that depends so much on atmosphere and internal logic.

Overall Maargan is a decent thriller that could have been much better had it paid more attention to coherence and consistency. It has an interesting plot and a controlled atmosphere that builds tension without overdoing it. But the loose ends and unexplained ideas take away some of its impact. Still it remains a one time watchable film with moments that work well within its limitations.

Rating: 6.5/10⭐️

DNA Review

Some films do not need a wide canvas to make an impact. DNA, directed by Nelson Venkatesan is one such film. Set mostly in and around hospital, it still manages to build a tense atmosphere. Starring Atharvaa, Nimisha Sajayan, Ramesh Thilak and others, the film takes a bold step into a genre that is not often explored with such seriousness in Tamil cinema. With music by Ghibran and a runtime of just over two hours, DNA is a thriller that makes its presence felt despite a few missteps.

One of the film’s biggest strengths lies in its performances. Nimisha Sajayan delivers a remarkable performance as Dhivya. She becomes the emotional anchor. Atharvaa does well too, balancing action with emotional restraint. Ramesh Thilak and the rest of the cast contribute meaningfully. This is a film where performances are not just good but deeply rooted in the story and that is what makes the characters feel real.

The plot stands out for the way it handles a sensitive subject. While child theft has been addressed before in cinema, here it comes with multiple layers. There is external turmoil, but also a conflict within the characters. The story keeps the audience engaged. It is not just about what happens but how it affects those involved. The writing brings in enough tension and intrigue to keep the film moving without relying too much on shock or drama.

Music by Ghibran plays a crucial part in carrying the emotional and suspenseful moments. The film begins slowly but soon demands a strong background score to hold the tension. The chilling score for the antagonists elevates the scenes. At the same time, the lighter moments are supported by songs that feel well placed. Though this is not a song driven film, music becomes an important part of the storytelling.

Cinematography has limited space to shine, as most of the film takes place in and around hospital. There are not many location changes, but the visuals are clean and consistent. What really works here is the screenplay. For a story like this, the writing needs to stay focused and it does. The film does not drag or lose control of its pace. The two hours and twenty minutes feel just right. The screenplay knows what it wants to say and sticks to the point without losing grip.

But despite all this a few things pull the film back. The opening song introducing the hero feels unnecessary. It follows a very old format that does not suit a thriller of this nature. There is another song placed midway which, while made well, does not add anything to the story. These moments break the otherwise serious tone of the film. It is clear that this is not a commercial mass film and such scenes feel out of place.

The action sequences also do not sit comfortably within the emotional narrative. The film could have been even more powerful if it had simply followed the journey of a father who lost his child. But instead it turns him into a fighter, someone who can take down enemies with ease. This makes the story feel a bit forced. If these moments had been trimmed and the focus had stayed sharp, the film could have been an excellent thriller with a strong emotional core.

Still DNA is a decent film and definitely worth watching. It comes close to being a near perfect thriller but slips slightly in trying to balance two different tones. The performances and the core story are strong enough to carry it through.

Rating: 7/10⭐️

When The Ground Was Ours

 

These days I have started playing cricket again on weekends, the strokes do not connect and the reflexes are slower, not what they used to be.  But the feeling is strangely the same as it was years ago when cricket was not just a game but a part of us growing up. It is not a turf where we play but a proper patch of ground with uneven surface and red mud that sticks to your chappals and stains your clothes and the sky wide open above us making you feel like you are part of something real. The bruises are real here and the dust rises with every slide and yet you never hear anyone complain because that is how it is meant to be.

I see how cricket has changed and I do not blame those who prefer turf these days because the shortage of open grounds is real and maintenance is a struggle in itself but I also notice something else. People have started fancying turf even when they have access to a ground nearby and they say turf is cleaner and better shaped and saves time but I remember how we used to shape our own grounds. We would walk in early and remove all the overgrown grass pick up stones clear the pitch, sprinkle water and only then begin the match. This was not a task it was part of the game itself. Now it feels like people want to arrive and play and leave in an hour without giving the game its space to breathe.

Even the bats and balls have evolved in a way that feels a little too convenient. Now it is all scooped bats and soft tennis balls and people say it is safer even if you get hit also you can swing faster with less effort, but I remember the days of the stumper ball that could knock the wind out of you and still we played without pads or gloves. We used those old MRF and Britannia bats that were so heavy you had to really swing with your whole body to send the ball flying and when it did it felt like a celebration. Today the swing comes easy but it feels like something is missing and I wonder if they even realise what that is.

Not just the bats and balls but even the shots have changed in a way that makes you feel the game has lost some of its soul. It is no longer about elegance or timing there are no more proper cover drives or square cuts or straight drives. What we see now is mostly raw power where people just swing hard waiting for the tennis ball to hit the middle of the bat and fly. There is no sense of placement or building an innings. Back then we placed the ball through the gaps we timed our shots we watched the field and played accordingly and there was something beautiful in that.

We used to play real test matches during the summer breaks where the game lasted for two or three days and each team took turns to bring Rasna made from those small sachets mixed in water bottles and someone would climb a tree and pluck mangoes and we would cut them and add chilli and salt and store them carefully under a tree for when the match took a break. There was joy in those small things.

Sometimes the ball would go missing and not in a simple way but in a way that would end the match for the day like when it went into that strict aunt’s house who never returned the ball no matter how much we begged. The rule was silent but clear that whoever lost the ball had to either climb and get it or bring a new one for the next match. These little troubles never stopped the game they just added to the story and gave us something to talk about for weeks.

And there were always bat stories in every match where one kid had a proper branded bat and he became the most important player of the game not because he could hit well but because if he got out and left with the bat the match would end and so we made sure to keep him in as long as possible. It was an unspoken arrangement and everyone understood it. The game taught us how to adjust and how to bend the rules just enough to keep the fun alive.

So when I walk onto the field now with a bat in hand and the soft crunch of gravel beneath my chappals it feels less like a game and more like a return. Not just to the ground but to a time when joy was simple and days felt endless. I look up at the open sky and for a moment I forget the years that have passed. I forget being a grown up and remember the boy who once ran barefoot chasing a ball with nothing on his mind but the next over. That boy still lives somewhere in me and each time I play I feel him smiling. Some people call it just a game but for a few of us it was always more, it was friendship it was freedom it was childhood stitched into afternoons of sun and sweat and laughter. And somehow it still is.

Maareesan Review

Mareesan directed by Sudheesh Shankar released in July 2025 with a cast led by Fahadh Faasil, Vadivelu, Kovai Sarala and Vivek Prasanna. The music was composed by Yuvan Shankar Raja. The film’s teaser and trailer hinted at a lighthearted or comic narrative, leading many to expect a fun experience. But what arrived instead was a suspense thriller, catching viewers completely off guard. The shift in tone is perhaps the most surprising element of this film.

In terms of performances the film begins strong. Fahadh Faasil and Vadivelu deliver compelling acting that anchors the story. Their presence gives the film a sense of depth and direction. What starts off as a potential comedy turns into a thriller, and that twist works for a while. It felt like the film was aiming to be different, with a unique storytelling approach and enough tension to keep the audience interested. 

Yuvan Shankar Raja’s music does not play a major role in this film, and that is understandable. This is not a movie built around songs. The soundtrack blends in well where required. A few old Ilaiyaraaja tracks are used to elevate certain scenes. The background score supports the mood. It is not a musical highlight but still contributes where it can.

Visually Mareesan surprises in a good way. For a film made on a modest budget, the cinematography stands out. The locations are picturesque and grounded, often resembling the aesthetics of a well made Malayalam film. The use of green screens in a few places is noticeable, but it does not take away much from the viewing experience. The visuals are mostly pleasing and consistent with the film’s tone.

However, Good acting and visuals do not make a film complete. One of Mareesan’s biggest flaws lies in its character development. Apart from the central roles played by Fahadh and Vadivelu, none of the other characters feel important. Kovai Sarala and Vivek Prasanna are wasted in poorly written roles. Their characters do not have any meaningful arc or impact. Even the antagonist is underwhelming. There is no powerful opposition for the hero to face, and this weakens the story. Every other role feels like a background figure. They enter and exit without leaving any impression.

The emotional connect of the film is also very low. A crucial incident in the story had the potential to connect with the audience. It is something that has been used in many films before, but that is not the problem. Familiar stories can still be powerful if written well. Unfortunately here the writing falls flat. The moment feels distant. There is no emotional pull. The viewer is left observing rather than feeling.

The screenplay is uneven. The film relies heavily on the acting and a few unexpected turns to hold attention. But beyond those, the writing does not offer much strength. The scenes feel scattered. The transitions between major moments lack rhythm. It becomes clear that the film is not tightly written. This also affects the pacing. The runtime feels stretched. Whether it is due to poor scene selection or just slow storytelling, the film starts feeling longer than it actually is. And this becomes disappointing because the story had potential.

Overall Mareesan is a decent film. It is not a complete failure, but it is far from fulfilling. It has strong performances and a few clever ideas, but the writing lets it down. The emotional disconnect and weak character arcs stop it from becoming a great film. It is a one time watch.

Rating 6/10⭐️

Staying Clean Does Not Make You Less

Something has changed in the way we look at alcohol, smoke or any other substances. It is no longer just about what people do in their own space. It has become a trend, a social filter, a way to decide who fits in and who does not. If you know a few extra alcohol brands or how to roll and mix new stuff, you are considered cool. If you do not take part in any of it, you are either judged or ignored. Somewhere the meaning of individuality got replaced with imitation.

I have had alcohol. And I say this not to prove anything but to make it clear that my thoughts come from experience. There is no high in it that lasts. Yes for a few hours things feel lighter. But once it wears off, life is exactly where you left it. You cannot drink or smoke away what needs to be faced. And the more you try to run from something using substances, the more control it has over you in the long run. That realisation is not a regret. It is simply a conclusion that come after trying and finding no value in it.

People are quick to respond with sarcasm when someone says these things. The first thing they say is you have done it too, so who are you to speak against it now. But just because someone has taken a wrong turn does not mean they cannot point it out for others. In fact, those who have seen both sides know exactly what it looks like. Choosing to walk away from something does not mean you failed. It means you understood where it leads. Speaking out is not hypocrisy when it comes from someone who has lived through it.

What is concerning is how this entire culture has started promoting unhealthy choices. The more you show that you do not care, the more you are appreciated. Drinking, smoking and getting high are now treated like social skills. If you are not part of it, you are treated like you are missing out. But when a habit starts becoming a measure of how accepted you are, it is no longer about choice. It becomes pressure. And that pressure is now shaping an entire generation that is confusing escape with enjoyment and dependency with fun.

There are people who use these things casually without letting it affect their life. There are also people who try it once and go down paths they cannot return from. Every person is different. But the bigger question is why this is being pushed as normal. Why are we not allowed to say that we do not want it. Why is self-control seen as boring. It is not about never trying anything. It is about being able to say no without being questioned.

This is for the ones who still stay away. For the ones who walk out when they are not comfortable. For those who choose to live without using any of it and still feel like they are being left behind. You are not outdated. You are not missing anything. You are choosing something that most people are too afraid to choose. You are choosing to be real in a world that is trying too hard to look cool. That is not weakness. That is strength. You are doing just fine. Stay that way.

The Strangers Who Made It Personal

 

There is something about long rides that brings clarity. Something about the wind cutting through my helmet, the unpredictable roads, the constant shift in landscapes. But out of everything that happened during my ride from Kanyakumari to Northeast, the thing that stuck with me the most… was the kids.

I met them on mountain stretches, in tea stalls, on winding roads where language did not matter. Tiny humans with eyes wide open to the world, holding no judgment and no doubt. Some just smiled shyly, a few waved from a distance, some ran straight into my arms like we had known each other for years and some just stared curiously at the black jacketed stranger with messy hair and dusty boots. I did not know their names. I did not ask for them either. But they all gave me something.

There is a purity to that. A kind of acceptance that adults lose somewhere along the way. You ride through places where your skin, your gear, your language makes you the outsider. But then comes a child who walks up with muddy fingers and offers you a biscuit. Or just stares at you like you are something out of a cartoon. And somehow, all the distance disappears.

We talk so much about travel changing us. But no route, no landmark, no breathtaking view has stayed with me the way these small faces did. They are the reason I remember this ride the way I do. 

I could have crossed ten more borders. Ridden thousands of extra kilometres. But I don’t think I would find anything more pure than the laugh of a kid Who does not care where you are from, what you ride or how far you have come. Who just sees you. And smiles.

Peace.

Twenty Five and Nowhere

This year began like a firecracker. Restless days. Rushed plans. Life seemed to have picked up a rhythm that felt unstoppable. There was an energy and a sense that finally things were starting to mean something. But somewhere along this ride, things slowed down and then stopped altogether. Everything that was once moving forward now stands still. A full stop where there should have been motion.

What was once adrenaline has turned into inertia. A body that used to roam around mountains now barely steps outside. The world has reduced to four walls and indoors have started to feel airless. Not that something tragic happened. It is worse than that. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Just a slow freezing of everything that was once alive. Even the bike, once a companion on roads unknown, stands untouched. Covered in dust.

There is a desire to scream, to vanish, to find some fresh air. But even that feels out of reach now. Everything keeps piling up, the mind stays cluttered and the world keeps pressing in and even the smallest things now seem to ask why they matter at all. Being twenty five was not supposed to feel like this. The pressure is not explosive but a slow choke.

Talking to people has started feeling like a task. Not out of hate. Not even frustration. Just the absence of want. Conversations do not feel necessary anymore. There is no push to keep things going, no urge to explain, no interest in filling silences. Words are returned when they arrive but there is no effort to begin anything and when nothing comes the silence feels normal not empty.

This is not depression with labels or poetry with metaphors. This is just a chapter where nothing moves. Twenty five was supposed to be full of things. Now it is filled with questions. Where is this heading? What is the point? Who knows. Maybe something will shift again. Or maybe it will not. For now, it is what it is, a life that does not hurt but does not feel like living either.

Death of a Point

Someone raises a valid point. It could be during a debate, an argument, a social issue or just an expression. They speak about Something they have experienced or something they want to be seen. But almost immediately, the point shifts. The other side does not respond to the point. Instead they defend. They say the issue exists everywhere. They say others also go through the same. And just like that, the original problem is no longer the centre.

Take the example of a woman who talks about how patriarchy has affected her life. The moment she finishes, someone interrupts saying that men also suffer. That men too face restrictions. The focus quickly moves from what she said to how someone else feels about it. The issue she brought up is not addressed. Her pain is not questioned, but it is silently dismissed.

This need to defend is not about truth. It is about discomfort. The moment a person feels that their side might be seen as flawed, they rush to speak. But in doing so they fail to listen. The response may not be hostile but it is more than enough to bury the point. What began as an attempt to highlight a specific problem is now lost in a generalised mess. The one who raised the issue is now left unheard, misunderstood, and possibly blamed for even trying.

Over time people stop raising issues altogether. They know what will follow. The comparisons. The reverse examples. The pressure to prove that their pain is different enough, unique enough or urgent enough. This culture of defensiveness forces silence. Real problems remain under the surface.

Not every issue raised is an attack. Not every truth needs to be balanced by another. Sometimes a problem just needs space. A little time to breathe. If the first reaction is always defence, then nothing ever really moves forward. The problem stays. The people stay unheard. And all we are left with is a discussion that looks complete, but never once touches what truly mattered.

Azadi Review

Azadi opens like a regular story. Nothing rushes. The setting is clear, the mood is steady and the scenes unfold in a straight line. Directed by Jo George. This film stars Sreenath Bhasi, Raveena Ravi, Lal, T G Ravi and Vani Viswanath. What begins as a slow moving drama turns into a gripping escape act filled with tension.

The plot follows Ganga, a pregnant woman in prison and her husband Raghu who is determined to get her out. The story unfolds inside Kottayam Medical College over a single day. What seems like a personal escape soon becomes a larger issue.

The visuals stay true to the setting. Hospital rooms, crowded passages, dim lights are all kept real. There is no overdo. The background never overtakes the story. The writing is clear. It shows only what is needed. Each scene builds on the previous one. Nothing feels random or out of place. The flow stays tight till the end.

Sreenath Bhasi delivers a solid performance. He never slips. Raveena Ravi holds her part with calmmess. Lal and T G Ravi bring depth without stepping over others. Vani Viswanath fits well into her role as a senior officer. The cast works like a team. Everyone knows when to take the lead and when to step back.

Azadi runs smooth without giving anything away. But in the end it throws one move that changes everything. A mindblowing twist to end. It does not slow down. It just hits. And once it does the whole film feels different. Everything before that twist feels like a setup. Everything after feels like impact.

Rating: 8/10 ⭐️