‘Sorgavaasal’ movie review: RJ Balaji’s ambitious crime drama withers in effect

In the latest RJ Balaji-starrer Sorgavaasal, an analogy likening a prison to hell reminded me of a popular quote: “The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.”

Debutant director Sidharth Vishwanath’s meticulously written and assembled crime drama wishes to be a clinical exploration of the existential, moral and social conditions this quote speaks of. However, as much as the film reminded me of the quote, it didn’t push me to Google the author behind it, or think back to any of the nuggets of wisdom the film is sprinkled with. And that sense of indifference one feels summarises how ineffectively Sorgavaasal achieves its ambitious objectives.

Sidharth’s long prison saga, populated by numerous characters, begins with Kattabomman (Karunas), newly appointed the Superintendent of Police governing the Madras Central Prison, speaking of the two ill-fated decisions everyone has to make in this world: You either become the emperor of hell, or you kneel as a stooge in heaven. This sentiment becomes the moral compass driving each of the characters. Rightly titled ‘Sorgavaasal’ (‘Gate of Heaven’), the film is set in a world where hell and heaven exist as one, with depraved souls who desire to either exit hell, or rule it with a firm fist, or bend knees to gods of the heaven, or pretend to be the gods themselves. It’s a heady concoction of a prison actioner, a survival story, a gangster saga, and a social drama.

A still from ‘Sorgavaasal’ 
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

The story begins in 2000. Ismail, an officer with an annoyingly chronic acidity issue (it seems you need some identifiable character trait to convince an actor like Natty for a cameo), is tasked with a labyrinthine investigation into the infamous 1999 Madras Central Prison riot, a bloodbath that followed the death of a ruthless gangster named, here, Sigamani a.k.a Siga (Selvaraghavan). Kattabomman takes Ismail through how Siga, having fallen prey to political ploys, made the prison his kingdom with the help of his right-hand man Tiger Mani. But thanks to his moral compasses — Seelan (author Shobasakthi), a Sri Lankan inmate who believes in virtue, and Kendrick, an African-American inmate who nudges Siga in the way of the Christian God — Siga’s violent antics stay in check.

Soon enough, SP Sunil Kumar (Shraf U Dheen, almost unrecognisable), a reckless egomaniac, takes charge of the prison, the fate of which changes forever with the entrance of a mysterious young man named Parthiban. Parthi (Balaji, in his most solemn, self-assured turn yet) is a lower-middle-class man whose world revolves around his local food joint, his fiance Revathy (Saniya Iyappan), and his elephantiasis-stuck mother. In a dire twist of fate, Parthi is imprisoned as the accused in the murder of Shanmugam, an IAS officer who Siga was tasked to get rid of.

Does Parthi clear his name and escape the prison? What does the riot have to do with him? How does Siga counter the SP’s deplorable attempts to show his place? These are a few of the many questions left to be answered.

It’s impressive how Sidharth, with the help of writers Ashwin Ravichandran and Tamizh Prabha, attempts to give each character due importance and maintains a uniform pitch in the drama. There isn’t a sequence that breaks your immersion into this world, and there’s merit in how confident Sidharth seems in his first directorial. Each actor looks trimmed down, and DOP Prince Anderson captures their helpless faces in many tight close-ups. There’s uniformity in visual tone, and the production design of the prison comes to life in a few scenes.

But despite all that, the film ends up as a limping jog around the block, primarily because Sidharth struggles to fit in all that he wishes to say in this time and space, and everything feels hurried. The script wishes to unfold periodically and drip-feed reveals, but the effect is simply not there. None of the grand moments the screenplay builds up to sustain as memorable (re: the fist-fight sequence in which Parthi meets Siga). A good example is how the director wishes to establish Kendrick as the Jesus figure to Siga. He finds little time for it, and so he justifiably wraps it in just one scene. But then the scene is just…half effective.

What is the drive of the protagonist in Sorgavaasal? He needs to clear himself of the accusations and get back with his mother and fiancée. However, the indulgences in world-building and the many interpersonal dynamics render Parthi a mere reaction tool, a cog in the wheel that moves more due to fate, ego bruises, or power-play. If this is the case for the protagonist, even the antagonists are half as menacing as they are set up to be, often only ending up doing the most senseless of actions.

A still from ‘Sorgavaasal’ 
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

It’s commendable how the film stands up to the ordeals faced by gender queers, with an arc for an inmate named Rangu (Maurish). There are strong dialogues and a search for poetic justice, but in a film so crowded and hurried, you worry that Rangu too might vanish. After a point, you become so detached from the film that you’re more interested in how the pieces of this game are moved and how the director pulls it all together, instead of caring about these people.

In the end, Sorgavaasal does not feel like a cohesive screenplay with a few flourishing scenes; you only see the potential, of what it could have been with a tighter storyline and some breathing space for the characters of this claustrophobic prison.

Sorgavaasal is currently running in theatres