If I sound rather disappointed, it's because halfway through the film, I found myself hopeful about its potential, about how it rises in energy and rhythm as it goes along. But as the story progresses, it settles for predictable resolutions and doesn’t stretch its boundaries. Philosophically too, the film feels conflicted. The flashback emphasises that ends don’t justify means—a bribe from an industrialist or a murder cannot be excused with the justification that the party can perform acts of good. Yet, Ram’s actions (a lie about his mother's mental state, egging people to receive increased bribes for their votes...), as the film goes on, seem to contradict this, as he encourages deception when it suits his goals. And for that reason, something feels rather off too about the self-serving destinations his roads lead to.
Sudhir Srinivasan of Cinema Express gave 2/5 stars and stated that "a film, in which Rajinikanth seems quite willing to shed his star image in pursuit of story-related pleasures, in pursuit of progressive politics, deserves to be more emotional, and more powerful".
Ultimately, Meiyazhagan is a sweet, sensitive film. It may not have the easy, emotional pull of 96, what with all the musical flourish, but that’s what makes it doubly special. It’s a story about stories, about forgotten memories and quiet reflections. For once, this isn’t a celebration of romantic love, but of something quieter and more enduring—male camaraderie, kinship, and a rare vulnerability that allows men to cry in the presence of other men. It’s a film about heritage, harmony and the importance of home. And as the film gently reminds us, home isn’t always a place—it could be anywhere your roots lead you. Sometimes, it’s as simple and profound as spending a night with someone and learning their name.
Sudhir Srinivasan of The New Indian Express gave 3/5 stars and wrote that although "not sparkly", Thangalaan was gold for its experimental story, clever craft and striking climax.
The temptation is understandable, for, this film too is about the circus that ensues when a villager suffers from a trouble related to farming (we will get to that later). This film too speaks of the systemic apathy towards the problems of those perceived to be insignificant. The title of this film itself is a commentary on the longstanding neglect of those in power. Rama? Ravana? Does it even matter, the film seems to ask. And yet, where a film like Peepli Live manages to be consistently poignant and funny and bitingly satirical, RaRa feels like a pale imitation in every way. The commentary isn’t deep enough, the jokes not funny enough, and the sentiment not moving enough. And this really is the problem with RaRa, which despite the occasional sharp line and the occasional funny takedown, remains a victim of simplistic writing.
I particularly enjoyed the character of Dancing Rose (Shabeer Kallarakkal) and was entranced by his dancing antics inside the boxing ring. It’s a mark of the film’s writing (Pa Ranjith and novelist Tamil Prabha) that even this character isn’t treated as dispensable side-quest fodder and gets instead a chance at redemption. If I had a complaint at all, it would be that as good an actor as Pasupathy is (playing Rangan vaathiyaar), I wish we had learned more about him, given that the guru-shishya relationship is at the heart of this film. What’s his relationship with his son, Vetriselvan? What are his weaknesses? What boxing expertise keeps him on top of his game as a manager? What made him such a terrific boxer? Nevertheless, all the supporting actors seem to have really bought into the film, and the rich universe is among my favourite aspects of Sarpatta Parambarai.
