Readers Write In #845: Coolie – Rooting the ‘Rajini’ Archetype in a motherless world

By Vinu Karthick

I watched the Coolie premiere in Berlin at midnight, in a full house. I was burdened by expectations. I caught most of the movie through all that mental noise. This meant more analysis and less enjoyment. Somehow, the expectations limited my capacity to receive the movie openly as it wanted to be. So, the film lingered unsettled in my system. I had to watch it again, to directly enjoy it with all my senses.

Living in a Motherless World with the Ghosts of the Dead

One standout feature for me, in the world of a Lokesh Kanagaraj movie, is the absence of mother figures. Karthi’s daughter in ‘Kaithi’ is motherless. Preethi’s character and her cousins are motherless. Leo and his twin sister are motherless. And what about Agent Vikram’s son? The mothers are mostly absent.

What happens in a world where the Feminine Principles are undernourished? In the language of neuroscience, it is a world dominated by the left hemisphere of the brain – narrow, calculative, cunning, paranoid, and trying to compensate for what is missing with consumption. Be it a lusty biriyani feast or relentless drinking, this world numbs itself with Consumption. It is a place where people can be manipulated into a rat race with money as bait. The world we live in is perhaps not there yet, but we are not so far from it either.

This coldness, this reign of total apathy and numbness to sensitivity, seems to be the background of Lokesh’s world: a motherless world. That is why I appreciate this world, even if I don’t like it. I appreciate that someone imagines it – Gives us a feel of its Horror and then! transforms it with fun and pleasure by inviting our heroes into it.

In the Case of Coolie

In the final flashback before Coolie ends, we see a dejected Rajasekar witnessing a murderous Rajini dragging a dead body alongside him. Deva had ‘somehow’ broken the “Powerhouse Promise” and abandoned the Motherhood of Rajasekar’s sister.” Somehow,” because he did not drink this time – and yet, there was a dead body. Maybe Rajasekar was hoping that the “Powerhouse Promise” was twinned with a promise to stop killing people as well. Is this why Rajasekar whispers the word years later in Dhayal’s ear? To allow Deva to resume his old ways? Does he finally agree with Deva that sometimes things have to be done the “Powerhouse way,” in that world?

If Deva had chosen Rajasekar’s sister instead of his colleagues, maybe Preethi and her cousins wouldn’t be motherless after all. Rajasekar wouldn’t have had to become a mother himself. But that world does not allow such a possibility for Deva – that world breeds motherlessness.

Rajasekar and his family live with the ghosts of those dead mothers. Deva and his nineteen ex-coolies live with the ghosts of their dead colleagues. They are glued together by their shared trauma and resilience. These bonds gather people together for life. To imagine that such a haunted fraternity might be living together for years is, for me, a melancholic fantasy.

Kaleesha’s character embodies this hauntedness. When we approach his closed door, I felt the shakes of a deadly night-god — emotionally potent, charged with an unknown god-like vitality. When “Kaleesha the Demigod” was finally summoned, it was ecstasy for me. The music subconsciously took me back to Kantara, to the scene where the god possesses the man and avenges the village. The camera moved upward, lifting him towards the sky in an otherworldly frame, rich in colour and humidity. That smoky humidity along with the suddenly new soundscape made me goosebumpy.

I am left imagining, wondering in between fractions of action: What could have happened to Kaleesha on the ship, and in all these years? Did Deva have to mother him as well? Did he meditate all these years, bringing in some otherworldliness when he opened those doors? Was he the soulful priest, carrying all the dead in his prayers inside that room? This is what I loved – what I did not know. The film leaves open all these possibilities, hinting at them with its cinematic vocabulary.

The Rajini Archetype

As I was walking along Alexanderplatz in Berlin with an Italian friend – a film enthusiast who wanted to experience the “Tamil Superstar on the big screen” thing -I tried to explain what Rajini means to me. I found myself saying these words: “The Rajini Archetype.”

I had to explain how it is easily acceptable when Rajini tricks us out of logical thinking in the movies. His real-life “rags to riches” arc -that celebrated transcendence -lends itself naturally to his on-screen characters. He gives life to this archetype effortlessly. We are easily convinced that a divine superpower rests within him.

If films like Annamalai, Muthu, and Padaiyappa play on this, the other side is the Baasha archetype — the image of something extraordinary dressed as ordinary, living quietly among us, like a dormant volcano that can erupt at any moment.

This is why Coolie worked for me. This dormant volcano was triggered perfectly in Lokesh’s motherless world. Rajini fit so well here -he shot sparks and lit up this dark Earth like with his star.

And the hero’s journey arcs comfortably towards its Destiny, when he is called back from exile to Mudichufy-Finish something he left incomplete – Through the very person that wanted him to stop his ‘Finishing’ business. Deva has to ‘Finish’ something that perhaps threatens his lifeline into becoming a Mother-His daughter. He is summoned to do the same thing again that earlier resulted in the loss of Preethi’s mother ( I mean, what is the likelihood of Shobana’s character dying from a cylinder blast if Rajini had been around).

Anyway, I finished explaining all of this to my film-enthusiast friend, and then I checked for tickets. Well, the show was sold out. This is a movie I would definitely consume,if I needed my dose of Rajini. There is an upcoming show this Sunday and I am up for it.That’s about it.