‘Madharaasi’ movie review: Sivakarthikeyan brings all the firepower in AR Murugadoss’ terrific return to form

It’s never pleasant to see good filmmakers repeatedly miss the bullseye, their signatures depleting in effect, and their own success formulas becoming recipes for failures. That’s precisely how it has been to watch AR Murugadoss post Kaththi; none of his films in the last ten years turned out as cohesive and complete as his two Vijay starrers. In particular, the filmmaker’s skill in deftly using compelling emotional undertones to propel the action has been lacking in his recent films. This is one of the many flourishes that make a terrific return in Madharaasi, a dense action flick starring Sivakarthikeyan through which Murugadoss reintroduces himself as a filmmaker capable of catering to the mainstream audience of 2025.

The solid first half is a testament to this; the writer in Murugadoss wastes no time as we are plunged into the thick of action, during a crucial mission by the National Investigation Agency as they attempt to intercept five truckloads of illegal ammunition on a highway. Things take a tense turn when the bad guys, who wish to profit by introducing gun culture in Tamil Nadu, open fire at the troops who are led by Prem (Biju Menon). Virat (Vidyutt Jammwal), the big bad brute with the physicality of a comic-book character, makes a stellar entrance along with his chieftain Chirag (Shabeer Kallarakkal), as they blaze through the blockade and hide the ammunition at a gas factory in Ambattur.

Meanwhile, an injured Prem, recovering at a hospital, crosses paths with Raghu Ram (Sivakarthikeyan), a peculiar man with a death wish, a hilarious meeting that would forever change their fates. Right from the moment we see him attempt suicide from a flyover, Raghu carries a quirky streak that intrigues you. He says he wishes to die since he cannot cope with the separation from his love interest, Malathi (the ever-graceful Rukmini Vasanth).

Raghu strangely seems to be of some use to Prem, and thus begins a thrilling tale ably supported by a strong emotional core — and probably one of the most well-rounded in a Murugoss film in a long time. When we see Raghu, he appears almost caricaturish, like a teenager who cannot bear the brunt of a heartbreak. But as more fascinating details emerge, we begin to understand how Raghu became this uncanny man with his heart in the right place. He is an empath with an untamed edge, and through this character, Murugadoss poses questions of what’s normal and what’s not. He questions the social conditioning that tells you to mind your business and that standing up for anything is ‘inviting trouble.’

This is as much a character study as an action thriller riding on the shoulders of a star. And this is also in a film that somehow works the masala cinema formula to its advantage. Take, for instance, the soup song, ‘Salambala’, with which we are introduced to Raghu. Initially, this sticks out like a sore thumb as just a mass hero introduction track, but then, when the bigger picture emerges, we see that it is well within reason for someone like Raghu, after leading the life he has, to dance before taking his life. Malathi isn’t just some love interest; she’s much, much more, and we get to witness every emotional beat in how she becomes this crucial figure in Raghu’s life. The simple lyrics and jovial tone of the song, along with the comedy in scenes with Prem, also helps Raghu’s transition in the later scenes feel convincing.

In fact, even the tone of the scene that immediately follows the song, in which Raghu takes the drastic step at a busy flyover, plays on the minds of the audience. Much like the crowd that is too bored to care about this strange man’s decision, we too initially don’t care for this ‘love story’ that Raghu has to say. The crowd’s reaction is also in tune with what Murugadoss says about empathy. You are also pleased to realise that mental health isn’t used as a mere shtick for sensationalism or comedy. Even when a mental condition like Fregoli delusion paves the way for some sensational turns in the story, we see that it becomes a device for Murugadoss to make a universal statement about social desensitisation and the need to be an empath in a world that compels one to care for no one but oneself.

After an excellent first half, the screenplay maintains its pace in the second half, at least until before the below-par final act. Towards the end, though, Murugadoss trades reasoning for some hero-appeasement that appears odd. Case in context is a move by the antagonist that reminds us that this filmmaker directed ‘thuppakki’ and ‘kaththi’. It’s a scene similar to one in Thuppakki (and ends with a hat-tip to Kaththi), but here it fails for the same reason why it worked in Thuppakki — the logic goes for a toss. But if these complaints do not dull the impact, it’s because of: a) stupendous action choreography, b) crisp editing from A Sreekar Prasad, c) Anirudh Ravichander’s background scores, and d) antagonists, like Vidyut’s Virat, who appear truly menacing. Above all, it’s Sivakarthikeyan who dominates the screen. He comfortably moulds into the ebbs and flows of a peculiar man with ‘animal instincts.’ Raghu is a guardian angel, a model empath, a ruthless death-bringer, a streetsmart Hulk and sometimes a nuisance — all rolled into one — and Siva aces every opportunity he gets.

Of late, many action sagas have repeatedly faltered at getting the emotional quotient right. Madharaasi, thankfully, comes as a saving grace, showing how impactful action can be when propelled by well-written pathos. It also shows how writers can weave in social themes without pandering to the crowd. Madharaasi speaks about a real danger that Tamil Nadu should be wary of — gun culture — and Murugadoss makes a compelling case on what our reality would look like when such weapons end up in the wrong hands. On the flipside, he also tells you that perhaps the thuppakki has, after all, landed on the right hands.

Madharaasi is currently running in theatres