To analyze Jana Nayagan through any lens other than that of its actor-turned-politician would be futile. Events that could have been slotted as generic plot developments in any other film stand out here as manifestos delivered by the star at the center. What Jana Nayagan states with crystal-clear conviction is that C. Joseph Vijay is the savior India desperately needs to preserve both itself and the vibrancy of its democracy. Vijay is no demagogue; he is a human god whose heart aches when common citizens cry. When some goons, in a flashback within a flashback, assault villagers and hang their bodies, a woman calls out to Vijay (or Vetri, his character's name), and an arrow flies toward a goon and tears through his body. This is not a man who lets innocent, poor people be attacked mercilessly. He matches brute force with brute force. Evil doesn't stand a chance in front of him.
Jana Nayagan can say that people need to be awake and educated when casting their votes for the politician who deserves the seat. But in the end, it always reinforces that that man is only Vijay—he is the hero we need. What a contradiction. Yet Vijay is now officially the chief minister of Tamil Nadu, so people of the state can congratulate themselves for having chosen wisely. If the movie had been released before the elections, it would have merely served the purpose of a manifesto. Now, it also comes across as a "you chose well" gift. What does Vijay promise? He is against religious politics, he hates the alcohol and drug trade, and he is thoroughly pro-woman. The latter, especially, is heavily underlined. Jana Nayagan makes the case that women should not only prefer Vijay but must choose him every time because he will save them both from themselves and from society.
Vetri, after all, not only rescues Viji (Mamitha Baiju) from a lecherous cop; he also stops her from marrying a boy, Karthik (Teejay Arunasalam), who evidently has a patriarchal mindset and no spine. Karthik's father insults Viji, but Karthik never interrupts him. Later, he asks her to leave the military academy and marry him. There is no doubt that he will never stand up for her and will keep her on a leash, confining her to domesticity. Vijay sees through him, just as he can see through all the troubles women go through in daily life. Speaking of the military academy, a trainer looks down on Viji and asserts that women are inherently weak only so that Vijay can deliver yet another one of his pro-women sermons, which is followed by a good-touch-bad-touch lesson for adults and young kids. So why does Vijay deserve the political seat? Because he is very progressive.
He also has a fortified mind. DCP Amrish Poojari (Bobby Deol) is humiliated by a corrupt politician, Roja Rangaswamy (Prakash Raj), and he crumbles psychologically. Vetri, too, is humiliated by Roja—not physically but in the form of a naked girl's corpse thrown onto the street. Unlike Amrish, though, Vetri doesn't succumb to Roja's dirty tricks. He fights back courageously. Whereas Amrish, wallowing in self-pity, emerges changed and unhinged, Vetri remains committed to his morally correct notions, no matter how many obstacles are thrown at him. Bad guys shake in fear whenever they are confronted by the mere image of Vijay/Vetri, be it in the form of a video call or a tattoo on skin. And given that Vetri confidently tackles corruption, lewd men, patriarchy, and robots while empowering women and preventing a civil war in the country, the actor portraying him very well deserves to be placed on the pedestal—he deserves the chief minister's seat.
Jana Nayagan, then, is a pure, unadulterated vehicle for hero worship. On some level, it's not that different from the Dhurandhar movies. Both, after all, use their "craft" to adore politicians and present their actions and decisions as beneficial to the entire country. Say what you will about Aditya Dhar—and much of the criticism directed at him is justified—he at least has a good filmmaking technique. The same cannot be said about H. Vinoth, whose Jana Nayagan is mind-numbingly generic. The only "emotion" that registers is the one that screams, "Vijay is my darling!" It's really made for Vijay fans, and that's not a compliment. This only means Jana Nayagan is narrow-minded in both its intentions and its reach. Both Dhar and Vinoth undervalue the art of cinema by indulging in politician worship. Instead of advancing the art form, they surrender to certain limitations. They color within strictly defined lines. Movies like Jana Nayagan are almost indistinguishable from a rally speech. If this is the final gift Vijay wanted to give to his fans, he should have just saved the cast and crew's time and done his "Mann Ki Baat" on Instagram Live.
Every politician is an actor. In Vijay's case, the fact becomes literal. His political win, then, is not as significant a revolution as news channels made it out to be. The only point worth highlighting is that the people of Tamil Nadu voted for an actual actor instead of politicians who conceal the performative nature of politics. Voters of Tamil Nadu have simply removed the veil. They got tired of closeted actors and embraced the one who identified himself openly. That's the only "revolution" that happened in the state—the common man forthrightly admitted to having fallen for the one who performed brilliantly, honestly, unabashedly. A country that worships its celebrities—builds their temples and pours milk on their posters—just ended up putting one in a powerful seat.
Final Score - [3/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times