‘Sorgavaasal’ Movie Review: RJ Balaji Stars In A Largely Compelling Update Of ‘Virumaandi’

Cast: RJ Balaji, Selvaraghavan, Balaji Sakthivel, Saniya Aiyappan, Sharaf U Dheen, Natty, Karunas
Director: Sidharth Viswanathan
Writers: Sidharth Vishwanath, Tamizh Prabha, Ashwin Ravichandran 
Language: Tamil 

There couldn’t have been a more fitting title for the film that Sorgavaasal has turned out to be. When translated, it could be read as “At Heaven’s Gate”. This isn’t merely ironic, given how almost the entire film is set within the walls of a high-security prison. But the idea of being at arms length from heaven, as close as you are far, gives Sorgavaasal the illusion of it taking place in some sort of a purgatory. For some inmates, this idea of heaven is the day they’re released back into the outside world. For others, the exit sign points only towards death. But then there’s the third kind, like the man they all lovingly call ‘Cooker’ (Balaji Sakthivel), whose belief falls somewhere in between. When Parthi (RJ Balaji, as never seen before) cooks a delicious meal for the inmates, he asks Cooker why this isn’t the norm. Cooker replies, “If you start enjoying the food you’re being served here, you will feel no need to leave.”

It’s scenes like these that make Sorgavaasal more than the standard-issue prison movie, satisfied with showing you the hierarchies and interpersonal dynamics between inmates. Instead, we get characters like the fascinating Kendrick (Samuel Abiola Robinson), a reformed criminal who has answered the call of Jesus. He becomes the conscience keeper for most inmates, including the all-powerful Sigamani (an excellent Selvaraghavan). In a moving scene set before a mural of Buddha, Siga tells Kendrick that he’s unsure whether God exists or not, but he wants to believe that Kendrick is his Jesus.

Scenes like these not only push us deeper into the minds of complex characters, but also present the film on a more spiritual plane. This is also because Kendrick comes to represent both hope and God to a lot of the people living there. So when the film’s central conflict revolves around him, you’re able to feel the repercussions of a society that has to grapple with their faith being snatched away.

These are important additions because the source text is fairly straightforward, based on the Madras Prison Riot of 1999, which took place after the inmate Boxer Velu was found dead. The ensuing riot killed 10 people. But instead of the docu-drama feel that was employed in a film like Virumaandi, director and co-writer Sidharth has chosen to rely on strong performances and the writing to keep it accessible and mainstream.

The similarities to Virumaandi do not just end with the prison setting. This too is a film that employs the Rashomon Effect to give you multiple perspectives to help you arrive at an understanding of what actually transpired on the days of the riot. Even before it gets to this point, it cleverly employs the same device to meddle with our understanding of a character like Parthi.

At first, we listen to various accounts that paint him to be an innocent do-gooder, a family man who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. But with every new narrator (and flashback), we begin to piece together a character that is really quite unknowable. He needn’t be the saint we thought he was, but is there more to his dark side when we see him perform a series of disturbing crimes, like he’s done all of this before? You feel this unknowability with almost every character in Sorgavaasal. No character is a hero or villain…they all live by just one rule: survival.

But the elegance of the writing that you took for granted in the first half starts to go missing once the film enters its final act. To some extent, you understand how this is by design because it is meant to recreate absolute chaos that is beyond logic or reason. But when we’re already conflicted about what to make of most of these characters, you grapple with the notion of whether we should even care for some of them. So when we witness the death of a major character, it’s uncertain whether this has the emotional impact it’s meant to.

Not that any of this takes away from the film it aspires to be. Like the character played by Natty, we remain a passive listener, unable to take anything at face value. You may feel like you’ve witnessed the story of one man’s personal triumph, just as you may think that you’ve seen someone’s descent into darkness. Chances are that the truth about Parthi is a lot like what you feel about this movie; somewhere between good and bad.