The
saving
grace
of
Shankar’s
expanded
universe
is
the
masterful
precision
with
which
Kamal
Haasan
drops
himself
into
a
messy
setup,
only
slightly
to
elevate
the
pulpy
tendencies
of
Shankar’s
vision,
observes
Arjun
Menon.
Shankar’s
ambitious
sequel
to
his
bellowed
classic
Indian
(1996)
is
all
things
we
expect
from
late-stage
films
by
the
director
known
for
his
larger-than-life
commercial
tentpole
films,
that
thrives
on
anti-establishment
themes.
Indian
2
has
all
the
trademarks
of
a
flamboyant,
maximalist
film-maker,
relying
on
a
beloved
creation
to
expand
on
some
of
his
flashy
narrative
ideas,
with
infuriatingly
baffling
results.
Kamal
Haasan
returns
as
the
elderly
vigilante
‘Senapathy’,
who
when
we
last
saw
him
after
much
moral
deliberation
was
forced
to
kill
his
son
once
he
became
a
weed
in
the
cogs
of
the
corrupt
system,
in
the
first
Indian.
The
noble
lone
warrior,
set
out
to
eradicate
the
failings
of
a
nonchalant
system
is
the
basic
tenet
of
Shankar’s
singular
filmography.
However,
in
Indian
2,
the
handmade
quality
of
the
original
film
is
foregone
for
a
hyper-sanitised,
overtly
manufactured
aesthetic,
where
the
details
of
Senapathy’s
escapades
to
restore
systematic
good
faith
and
social
conduct
becomes
a
bouncing
board
for
Shankar’s
ever-imaginative
brain
to
take
over.
The
emotional
grounding
of
the
father-son
conflict
in
the
earlier
film
served
as
the
perfect
counterbalance
to
the
heightened
fantasy
of
a
freedom
fighter
turned
vigilante
figure
embarking
on
a
mythic
journey
to
eradicate
corruption.
However,
this
time
around
Shankar
is
in
love
with
the
excess
of
his
world,
that
it
stifles
the
immediacy
of
the
social
concerns
being
addressed
in
the
film.
The
film
starts
from
the
perspective
of
a
gang
of
youngsters,
running
a
YouTube
channel,
whose
idealistic
naivete
is
only
met
by
their
wide-eyed
optimism
as
to
a
day
when
the
rot
slowly
catches
hold
of
the
bureaucracy.
The
gang,
led
by
Siddarth
is
fed
up
of
being
shunned
away
callously
by
the
wrongdoers,
who
feed
on
the
life
of
the
common
man.
The
initial
stretch
itself
feels
tacky
and
stacked
on
as
we
rarely
feel
the
helplessness
of
a
younger
generation
dealing
with
issues
of
serious
socio-political
implications,
due
to
the
amateurishness
of
the
writing.
For
instance,
we
get
a
flashback
supposed
to
feed
us
some
insight
into
the
relationship
between
Siddarth
and
his
mother,
a
detail
that
is
conveyed
with
a
sort
of
straight-faced
earnestness
that
is
defeated
by
the
strange,
awkward
way
it’s
been
set
up
in
the
screenplay.
You
get
no
sense
of
the
inner
life
of
these
people
and
they
come
off
as
the
ciphers
that
are
meant
to
be
placeholders
meant
to
represent
emotion
that
is
not
earned
by
the
film.
The
young
gang’s
hail-mary
attempt
at
restoring
the
balance
of
the
deteriorating
system
by
bringing
back
Senapathy
through
a
social
media
campaign
is
presented
in
a
rushed
montage,
devoid
of
any
real-world
implications.
In
Shankar’s
world,
the
whole
‘Come
Back
Senapathy’
social
media
campaign
brings
the
whole
wide
world
to
a
standstill
and
we
get
a
sense
of
going
through
the
motions,
waiting
for
Senapathy
to
make
his
way
back
and
starting
his
characteristic
one-man
fight
for
justice.
But
Shankar
keeps
us
waiting
with
his
usual
bag
of
tricks
and
he
cuts
back
between
many
players
and
archetypes,
both
involved
in
the
process
of
bribing,
and
the
victims
suffering
the
aftermath
of
systemic
oppression.
However,
the
usual
dramatic
tension
and
exhilarating
bite
of
Shankar’s
writing
is
misplaced
beneath
the
gloss
and
glamour
of
Senapathy’s
newfound
celebrity
status,
and
the
hero
worship
accompanied
by
Anirudh’s
Thatha
Vararu
undercuts
the
weight
of
the
many
tragic
lives
being
presented
to
us.
That
song
feels
totally
out
of
place
in
the
world
of
‘Senapathy’
,
where
moral
uprightness
and
tragic
consequences
unravel.
We
get
introduced
to
many
industrialists
and
millionaires,
who
turn
out
the
temporary
antagonistic
forces
who
are
introduced,
just
to
be
wiped
off
the
next
scene,
in
some
of
the
most
curiously
structured
scenes
that
cut
back
between
Senapathy’s
vigilantism
and
the
young
gang’s
attempt
at
weeding
out
the
wrongdoers
from
amongst
their
own
family
and
close
one’s.
Shankar
focuses
too
much
on
the
comical
affectations
of
the
kill
sequences,
with
Senapathy’s
‘varma‘
practice
being
employed
to
get
some
laughs.
For
instance,
in
one
scene,
an
enemy
is
paralysed
by
Senapathy,
only
to
return
to
a
horse-like
condition
where
he
is
forced
to
march
around
for
the
rest
of
the
scene
inside
a
large
room,
in
the
literal
pose
of
a
marching
horse,
with
an
amused
Senapathy
breaking
into
a
long
monologue
citing
his
adverse
effect
on
the
life
of
poor.
The
funny
aside,
focusing
on
creative
‘varma
types’,
each
with
its
funny
implication
is
overdone
and
we
feel
the
length
of
these
sequences
drags
out
the
central
idea’s
promise
a
little
too
thin.
The
sleight
of
hand
and
directness
with
which
the
first
Indian
showcased
the
kill
sequences
is
directly
inverted
with
campy
affectations
here,
which
never
adds
much
by
way
of
intrigue
to
the
scenes
and
play
out
for
far
too
long.
Whereas
a
slight
twitch
of
the
two
fingers
sufficed
to
impart
much-needed
context
into
Senapathy’s
special
abilities
in
the
1996
film,
here
it’s
treated
with
little
self-awareness
and
we
get
laughably
absurd
scenes
that
are
over-written
to
the
extent
of
self-parody.
Shankar
seems
to
be
relishing
in
planning
out
visual
set
pieces
for
each
kill
and
adding
on
comedic
beats
to
make
the
Senapathy
encounters
light-hearted
and
entertaining,
but
to
little
effect.
Kamal
Haasan
continues
the
emotional
arc
of
the
first
installment
and
we
get
to
see
him
relish
the
chance
to
play
the
timeless
‘Senapathy’
and
the
actor
is
locked
into
the
part
from
the
very
first
time
we
see
him
on
screen.
The
saving
grace
of
Shankar’s
expanded
universe
is
the
masterful
precision
with
which
Kamal
Haasan
drops
himself
into
a
messy
setup,
only
slightly
to
elevate
the
pulpy
tendencies
of
Shankar’s
vision.
Kamal
Haasan
immersed
in
prosthetic
makeup,
like
in
the
previous
film,
can
straighten
out
many
tacky,
self-congratulatory
writing
with
his
gravitas
and
own
personal
and
political
ethos
that
somehow
bleeds
into
his
on-screen
avathar.
However,
the
film
never
adds
to
the
core
conflict
of
Senapathy,
unlike
the
first
film
which
had
a
strong
foundation
of
pathos
and
family
dynamics
that
is
singled
out
for
the
anonymity
of
Senapathy
as
an
ever-present,
brooding
loner
on
the
run
from
a
determined
opponent
related
to
his
past.
Priya
Bhavani
Shankar
and
Rakul
Preet
Singh
have
very
limited
things
to
do
and
just
get
individual
standout
scenes,
where
they
stand
up
to
their
parents.
But
they
are
background
players
along
with
Siddarth
in
the
bigger
world
of
‘Indian’
Senapathy’s
larger
plans
for
radical
social
change.
Anirudh
is
in
his
element
here
and
uses
some
of
A
R
Rahman’s
original
themes
in
crucial
scenes
and
recycles
them
in
a
respectable
fashion
not
compromising
on
his
own
stylistic
tendencies.
Ravi
Varman’s
frames
are
painterly
and
sometimes
the
drab
subject
matter
of
certain
scenes
falls
prey
to
the
brightly
lit,
glossy
visual
palette
that
complicates
our
response
to
events
unfolding
on
screen.
Siddarth
is
well
cast
as
the
well-meaning
youngster
caught
between
the
moral
compromise
of
personal
loss
and
societal
degradation.
However,
he
rarely
gets
to
do
anything
except
in
an
emotional
sequence
that
turns
the
film
on
its
head.
S
J
Jayasurya,
who
plays
the
film’s
main
antagonist,
is
mostly
relegated
to
chewing
the
scenery
in
an
outrageously
styled
wardrobe.
The
‘excess’
of
S
J
Surya’s
sleazy
business
tycoon
is
pretty
much
the
same
excess
that
holds
back
the
film
from
some
intriguing
narrative
ideas
and
story
beats
that
lay
at
its
centre.
For
instance,
in
between
all
the
demi-god-like
glorification
of
Senapathy,
Shankar
pulls
off
a
potential
threat
to
Senapathy’s
self-image
and
social
standing,
in
a
situation
when
his
methods
are
no
longer
relevant
or
practical
in
real
life.
This
is
the
point
in
the
film,
where
I
gradually
sat
up
from
my
seat
just
to
take
notice
of
where
Shankar
might
spin
this
new
development
into
the
arc
of
Senapathy’s
superhero-like
yet
tragic
origin
story.
However,
this
narrative
line
is
blown
out
of
proportion
with
an
uncanny
chase
sequence
and
action
block
that
never
probes
further
into
the
most
important
offset
of
the
new
development:
Is
Senapathy’s
ways
of
reform
relevant
anymore
in
this
day
and
age?
The
shirtless
Senapathy
effortlessly
making
his
way
through
a
barrage
of
well-built
young
men
goes
on
for
too
long
and
suspends
the
momentum
of
the
moral
question
and
leaves
a
poor
taste.
Having
said
that,
the
ending
regains
some
of
the
lost
goodwill
and
is
open
to
some
interesting
developments
in
the
next
installment.
We
get
a
glimpse
of
Indian
3
(2025)
at
the
end
of
this
film
and
it
promises
a
marked
departure
from
the
world
of
this
film
to
another
worldly
place
where
things
could
be
different.
Indian
2
does
not
cohere
together
as
seamlessly
as
one
hopes
and
works
more
like
an
overwritten
prelude
to
the
events
of
the
next
installment
and
that
is
unfortunately
all
it
does.
Indian
2
Review
Rediff
Rating:
