Director PS Vinothraj has created characters that each fulfill distinct roles within the story. However, the true brilliance of the film lies in how these characters feel authentic and fully developed, rather than mere stereotypes designed solely to achieve specific goals.
I will never forget the gaze of Meena (Anna Ben). Her eyes reflect defiance and a haunting emptiness. When life and society leave you feeling powerless, all that remains is to stare into the void. Yet, Meena’s gaze is not one of surrender; it penetrates through time and space, challenging you with unasked questions, even in her silence, which she wields with remarkable strength.
In this narrative of her apparent defeat, Meena finds small victories—her resolute stare, her soft humming to a tune, her simple act of drinking water, and her refusal to exit a shared auto. Her beautiful face may not smile often, but in these fleeting moments, glimpses of joy emerge. Sadly, the society and family around her fail to appreciate this beauty. A brief moment where she offers a gentle smile to her younger brother stands out as the film’s most poignant scene. It’s a smile filled with kindness, directed at a boy overwhelmed by the surrounding violence. In that moment, Meena could easily justify breaking down, yet she gathers her strength to shield him, showcasing a sensitivity that sets her apart from her family.
Director PS Vinothraj crafts characters with distinct roles, but the film’s brilliance lies in how they never feel like mere tools for the plot. Take Meena’s brother, for instance—he’s blissfully unaware of the turmoil unfolding around him, too young to grasp the situation. Yet, it’s hard not to see the dangerous Pandi (Soori) as a reflection of what this boy might become if circumstances change.
The performances in this film transcend the typical notion of acting. Anna Ben delivers an outstanding portrayal, while Soori brings a chilling intensity that leaves a lasting impression—I’ve never felt such disdain for any of his previous roles. In this instance, he sheds his comedic persona entirely. The opening scene where he loses his temper is a brilliant example of horror writing, evoking a level of fear and shock that I haven’t experienced in any other horror film.
To emphasize the film’s connection to the horror genre, the characters’ belief that Meena is possessed and in need of an exorcism adds another layer of terror. The dehumanization at the film’s core feels alarmingly real, especially when considering Meena’s stoic reactions to her suffering. Often, when we read about historical atrocities, we convince ourselves that we would never allow such events to occur in our own communities. However, if we were to step outside our comfortable lives, pay attention, and truly listen, we might hear the quiet cries and muted anguish of those around us. Watching “Kottukkaali” left me with a sense of guilt for living a relatively unburdened life, reminding me of the struggles faced by so many others.
I appreciate how director PS Vinothraj has chosen to focus on just a few hours in Meena’s life to tell this powerful story. Initially, we may not realize it, but the film immerses us in a scene that can only be described as a crime scene. Pandi’s throat is smeared with sunaambu, indicating that he may have exhausted his screams. His voice throughout the film serves as a haunting reminder of his aggression. Meanwhile, Meena is prepared for her fate, reminiscent of a goat being led to slaughter. This imagery is later echoed when we see an actual goat, further reinforcing the film’s themes.
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