Coolie Movie Review

Watching Coolie feels like having Salem RR biryani or SS Hyderabadi biryani—some enjoy it, some don’t. These biryani joints aren’t known for intensity of flavor, but everyone agrees the quantity is massive. That’s exactly what Coolie is: a film with a lot of everything—good parts, bad parts, coincidences, motives, flaws, dialogues, jokes, style, brutality, craziness, action, shots, and endless scenes.

The biggest strength is its sound. Anirudh carries the film, and one could argue many mediocre filmmakers owe their success to him. The music is relentless, energetic, and immersive throughout. There’s also audio de-aging, which occasionally feels odd but mostly works. Visually, Rajini’s de-aging is striking—he genuinely looks like vintage Rajini. Compared to other recent attempts in cinema, this is among the most effective. Perhaps the technology, the team’s skill, or Rajini’s distinct  age made it possible to rejuvenate him more convincingly.

Rajini is stylish as always, and it’s delightful to see his body move with mechanical precision even at this stage. His dance and fight scenes may now feel cliché, but his sentimental moments remain impactful—it’s genuinely sad to see him vulnerable on screen. Shruti Haasan’s role lacks depth but she performs convincingly and fits well.

Soubin’s villainous turn evokes Bhavani from Master. His performance makes him feel formidable, almost the sole true villain of the film. His ability to draw disgust and hatred works in his favor. He even steals the spotlight in Pooja Hegde’s “Monica” song. However, his character suffers from poor writing—though human, he’s portrayed with zombie-like immortality. No matter how brutally he’s attacked—hammer strikes, burials, car crashes, or train falls—he resurfaces unscathed. While this helps emphasize his menace, it undermines believability.

Upendra has minimal screen time but projects an aura nearly matching Rajini’s. Their shared scenes stand out, though his role is reminiscent of Shiva Rajkumar’s in Jailer. Nagarjuna brings style and madness, keeping his sequences engaging. Sathyaraj, however, is woefully underutilized—even his limited role as a narrator in Madras Matinee carried more weight and impact than what he’s given here. In Coolie, his so-called “de-aging” is reduced to superficial hair adjustments, which come across as unintentionally comical.

The film tries hard to draw from Breaking Bad but fails miserably. Walter White’s unique edge lies in his near-Nobel-level brilliance and his ability to produce meth of unmatched purity, making him indispensable. The show builds around others trying to replicate or replace him—with scientists, assistants, and rival methods—highlighting his irreplaceability. In Coolie, a similar attempt is made with Sathyaraj, whose cremator chair is presented as a crucial piece of technology that only he knows how to operate. Logically, if he is so vital, shouldn’t Nagarjuna’s kingpin empire have a business continuity plan in case something happens to him? That would at least make narrative sense. Instead, the story abruptly shifts away the moment this is introduced. From there it spirals into revenge for Sathyaraj, escaping Soubin, Rajini searching for his daughter, and ultimately, running from Nagarjuna. By the time Aamir Khan appears in a post-credit cameo, it feels less like a revelation and more like a random blooper.

Questions about character motives pile up endlessly, but dwelling on them only highlights how messy it all is. Structurally, the film is strikingly close to Jailer, with multiple moments that can be mapped one-to-one. A late fight sequence is spectacularly choreographed and briefly wows, proof of serious effort poured into a script that simply doesn’t hold up. So many things happen and so much incoherence stacks up that by the end, I genuinely forgot half of what actually happened—so leaving the review half baked, incomplete -- Just like the movie

If anything, watching the movie feels necessary just to keep up with the memes and trolls it has already spawned. Approach it the way you’d attend an unavoidable family function—go in with low expectations, and it might be a smoother experience. Its just as bad as Vikram.