'Sirai' Movie Review: Well-Written Drama About a Cop Transforming from Hero to Human

As far-fetched as it may seem, one can make the case for Sirai to be added to a list of suggested reading material along with Rajinikanth’s Vettaiyan. They are both films about impossibly upright protagonists who invariably prefer to take law into their own hands, as long as it fits into their notions of having a moral conscience. They are both films that begin by making us sympathise with these heroes, who are as good as the heroes of a hundred other cop movies, only to then realise that even they could go terribly wrong. Their transformation from a trigger-happy hero to an empathetic human is the arc both films take. But if Vettaiyan was burdened by the weight of its mega star voltage, Sirai is more than happy to make the movie about other characters too, resulting in an unadulterated debate about encounter killings and the biases that make this act more complex.

Sirai’s approach is potent and sincere because it can take afford to take its time to establish Kathiravan (Vikram Prabhu) and Abdul (LK Akshay Kumar), both people we’ve decidedly chosen to attach with certain stereotypes. Just like how we’re trained to side with Kathir, even as he argues against a revisionary committee making the case for an obvious human rights violation, the film also primes us to approach Abdul with suspicion when we meet him first. In fact, even their chance meeting, when Kathir takes over escorting duties to help out a fellow officer, feeds into our notion of Kathir being the hero of the film. 

It’s an interesting meeting point, one that gives the film a mythical element. What if they had never met? What if Abdul was escorted by another officer? What if they didn’t face the obstacles they have to, along the way? These are questions the film wants to you keep thinking, even as you wrestle with judgements about Abdul and Kathir during their journey. 

The other reason Sirai feels more personal is because of how focused it remains, despite the flashbacks. At first, we wince at the purpose of a typical 'happy family song' inserted right after the hero commits a murder. But as we go along, it almost makes sense for Kathir be a shown to be a family man who is madly in love with his wife, just so you set him apart from the two other officers who are with him. It also helps that Kathir’s wife acts like a second layer of his conscience, working overtime to help him through a complex moral debate. 

But it’s also generous in the way the film always feels like it’s primarily about Abdul and Kalaiyarasi (Anishma Anilkumar). The film takes its time to take us back to the late 90s to plant us deep into their village, its social structure and the sort of characters that belong in the films of that era. As their story begins to be narrated fairly early, even when we haven’t yet made up our minds about Abdul, it further adds to the complexity of an unreliable narrator, narrating what might seem like a familiar sob story. But even here, characters like that of Remya Suresh, playing the feisty mother to a weak Abdul, bring these portions alive.

Which is probably why we cling on, even when the film moves into melodramatic territory. Characters within the flashback appear lack the moral complexity of the characters in present time and the film takes you through routine patches, even when you’ve decided to invest in their story. The film then kicks back into gear once it brings back the debate about encounter killings and what’s wrong with the system. In Sirai's best scene, a police officer shamelessly admits to stereotyping Abdul for being a Muslim, without realising that his confession is being made to a fellow Muslim officer; instead of the officer choosing to voice his anger, there’s a soft resignation in his face as he continues to help his peer, as though he has had to deal with the stereotyping all his life.

So, when the film bookends its ending with an incredible shot of Kathir, pulling the loaded rifle away from a colleague, we must notice how it’s drained of any cinematic embellishments. It is what it is, and we notice Kathir’s transformation almost like it was hidden within the creases of this film. With many such touches in the writing, Sirai makes a living, breathing life form of what could easily have remained an intellectual exercise. That it achieves, only because Sirai’s heart is in sync with its head.