‘Madha Gaja Raja’ movie review: Vishal, Sundar C’s fun, largely engaging throwback to masala cinema of the past

‘Madha Gaja Raja’ movie review: A familiar Vishal going hand-in-glove with a prime Santhanam, abs-flashing fights with a stock villain, and scantily clad women treated as mere sex symbols — Sundar C’s 12-year-old masala entertainer works as a reminder of what Tamil cinema has been missing out on, and what it has largely tried to correct itself from

We are three Tamil films and one pan-Indian title into Pongal cinema mania this year, with two more big-ticket releases on the horizon. Yet, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that one of the most interesting Pongal releases this year might actually be (the curious case of) Madha Gaja Raja — masala cinema master chef Sundar C’s long-delayed comedy entertainer, releasing after 12 years. The release of a quintessential Sundar C entertainer is a phenomenon worth discussing but Madha Gaja Raja isn’t just that: it’s also a reminder, partly of what the present-day Tamil cinema has been missing out on and partly of what it has largely tried to correct itself from.

Look, here’s the deal; it’s obviously a time capsule to a long-dying sub-genre of masala cinema, and it’s natural to weigh how the core ideas behind the film have aged over the years. It must either be outdated and formulaic, or has a timeless appeal that makes you take it at face value, irreverent to the bigger picture, and compels you to look beyond its flaws. Thankfully, Madha Gaja Raja just about falls in the second category, offering mindless fun and respite from all the serious actioners of our time. If you’re expecting it to appease your 2025 movie-watching sensibilities, this may not be for you. If you’re however an audience familiar with Sundar C’s brand of cinema, Madha Gaja Raja is a delightful throwback — it tells you a thing or two about the commercial cinema of our past; why a Pushpa 2 works in 2024; why filmmakers used to take big gambles with comedies; and why heroines being embarrassingly used as mere sex symbols have diminished.

Let me prepare you for the kind of film that awaits you: In their new humble abode, a man opens the window to the sight of a temple tower, an auspicious sign according to him. His daughter opens another window adjacent, sees the film’s hero Vishal, and goes, “But I can see God himself.” Imagine a packed theatre hall, some sniggering with their heads buried down and some still processing the lens to view the film.

A lot of these ideas, cringe-worthy in the present day, were run-of-the-mill in the 2000s and 2010s, and that the makers haven’t chopped them off says more about the release itself. Another example is a slow-motion intercut that shows the same girl, feeling all the heat in her loins for Vishal, because he held her hips while Matrix-bending to avoid a sickle-slash? Madha Gaja Raja is filled to the brim with such campy tropes that we had long forgotten, often resulting in the audience erupting into laughter, the loudest of which came at the sight of a car being hoisted in the air vertically (something both Vishal and Sundar C have forgone since their Aambala days).

What really caught my attention is how the first half of the film demonstrates why filmmakers have largely stuck to the masala cinema formula — because it works. The many commercial elements are packed so densely, and to much surprise, it doesn’t compromise the plot’s progression. A lot happens in just one hour into the film. A major highlight? After what seems like an eternity, the comedian in Santhanam makes a terrific comeback, shortcomings intact, and we also get the long-forgotten independent comedy tracks.

The storyline is simple; Raja (Vishal) and his three childhood friends — played by Santhanam, Nithin Sathya and Sadagopan Ramesh — reunite at the wedding of their favourite school teacher’s daughter. The wedding festivities themselves offer space for comedy, as well as drama, centring on the love affair of the bride and the marital issues of Santhanam’s character, culminating in a reveal that introduces the main antagonist of the film: Sonu Sood’s Karkkavel Vishwanath, a media business tycoon who had wronged both Nithin and Ramesh.

Raja vows to make it right by his friends, leading into the second half of the film, where the film falters. He easily thwarts the political ambitions of the nitwit villain, a multi-millionaire who lets his ego get the best of him. Meanwhile, Raja is stuck in a love triangle, with Madhavi (Anjali), a traditionally-attired girl who leaves him after a misunderstanding in the beginning, and Maya (Varalaxmi Sarathkumar), Ramesh’s sister-in-law who wears Western clothing to complete the yin-yang formation. Come on, there’s something for all men, isn’t there? The film was made back when Vishal was in his Theeradha Vilaiyattu Pillai phase, and once again, the women here have little to do than fight for Raja and become irrelevant sex symbols pandering to the male gaze (there’s a scene in which Raja emerges from a well carrying the two heroines on his lap!).