Time-Travelling With Ghilli And A Single-Screen

Eager faces were being ushered in at 6.12am, with a young man hurrying his friend to get in. “Seekram poda. Padam arambichira podhu,” he hollered. Fans at Victory Cinemas, a single-screen theatre in Bengaluru didn’t care if they had already seen this Vijay film a great many times, this particular Saturday morning. At 6.15am on the dot (it’s important to note here that this kind of punctuality is an anomaly for multiplexes in the city that are known for abysmal delays) the screen lit up and so did the fans. Smartphones were propped up — like spots of light in a sea of darkness — as Velu (Vijay) began running with his back to us. And as he turned and lit his cigarette up, shrieks erupted — a celebratory detail that interestingly wasn’t just restricted to the hero's introduction in this film’s case. It was time for Ghilli.

The 2004 action drama, which was re-released earlier this week in celebration of its 20th anniversary, is one of those unique blockbusters that enjoys popularity among both Vijay and Tamil film fans alike. Ghilli is of course now known for cementing Vijay’s stardom in the mass film landscape, but is also remembered for nudging its way into the fabric of Tamil pop-culture with its characteristic brand of humour, despite being a remake of a Telugu film. The re-release is now being devoured by fans worldwide — it has reportedly raked in more than Rs 15 crores since its release, especially at a time when the Tamil cinema release lineup is increasingly looking barren. But how does the film hold up 20 years later? And more importantly, how does it hold up as a mass film in today’s action-fatigued times?

“Idhu Muthupandi kotta (This is Muthupandi’s area),” Prakash Raj declares early on in the film (For the uninitiated, most of Ghilli revolves around Velu, a Kabbadi player saving Dhanalakshmi (Trisha) from the wild and ironically hilarious Muthupandi (Prakash Raj), a Madurai goonda). But this is not the last time this dialogue was heard inside the theatre. Every time Velu pulled a fast one on this loony villain, audiences were overcome with joy. Take the scene where Velu yanks a knife on Muthupandi as fast as he does on Dhanalakshmi. It didn’t matter if the knife was on backwards, whistles continued. But this amusement was almost immediately accompanied by sudden bursts of love for his opponent. “Idhu Muthupandi kotta,” a gent screamed, leaving the audience in peels of laughter, reminding everyone that there isn’t just one hero in this film.

One could observe almost the same level of admiration for Trisha, as frustrated as Dhanalakshmi might leave her wellwishers inside this screen — thanks to a running joke on the internet, the crowd erupted in rapture anytime she inadvertently indulged in self-sabotage such as fainting mid-fight in the river, leaving Velu to fend off Muthupandi’s men alone or bringing Velu’s cop-dad right to the front door when she’s supposed to be hiding in plain sight. “Enna Dhanam ipdi pannita,” someone screamed, as Velu and Dhanalakshmi ran towards the lighthouse to take cover.

You know when the lighthouse scene is here that it’s precisely the moment that these fans have been waiting for since six in the morning. The audience ran to the front of the theatre to leap and vigorously bop to Vidyasagar’s rapturous “Appadi Podu” (is this the first such song to become a pan-Indian sensation?), with torchlights and sing-alongs in full-throttle. But this excitement also didn’t stop them from poking fun at moments of absurdity. High laughter could be heard when Dhanalakshmi got off the bus to the airport (her flight to freedom leaves in 40 minutes, but a girl’s gotta eat) to have some kara puri. “America la idhellam kadaikaadhu da (she might not get this in America),” a fan informed his friend in jest.

In the long popcorn queue, amidst cheeky fan requests for “chocolate coffee” (a Leo reference) at the refreshments stand, one could overhear a conversation between two friends about their airbnb near the theatre. This immediately made me wonder: what really makes a person travel cities to watch a 20-year-old film? Inches away from the queue, glowing fans in tees and hoodies plastered with their star’s face could be seen clicking selfies with the film’s digital board. Is the reason perhaps the comedy drought that the Tamil film industry is currently facing? Or is it the joy of reliving the glory days when watching a star film didn’t just mean excessive fan-servicing that eventually doesn’t leave more than one memorable character in its wake?

This also brings us to answer why Ghilli is one of those rare remakes that is celebrated as much as its original. Dharani took a terrific masala film and peppered it with Tamil comedic sensibilities. In Okkadu, Ajay’s father, unlike Velu’s, is among his cheerleaders on the Kabbadi ground. In Ghilli, the lack of this dynamic between Velu and his parents is what leaves way for situational comedy — a detail that isn’t relegated to being a “comedy track”, but is instead elevated by dialogue and the performers’ knack for comedic timing.

So, when this packed theatre chose to sing along with Velu during his rendition of the devotional song  “Marudhamalai Maamaniye Murugaiya” in a hysterical moment in the film instead of his introduction song, things became clear. Fans wanted to travel back in time, and they maybe just did this Saturday morning.