Idli Kadai Review: Nostalgia from Dhanush, But Is It Filling Enough?

Director - Dhanush

Cast - Dhanush, Nithya Menen, Arun Vijay, Shalini Pandey, Sathyaraj, R. Parthiban, P. Samuthirakani, Rajkiran.

Duration – 147 Minutes

Rating – 2

 

In Idli Kadai, Dhanush has his feeling on his sleeve—and a tad too ostentatiously. This B-grade small-town drama, replete with nostalgia and moral lessons, is about Murugan (Dhanush), a big-city aspirant who finds himself going back grudgingly to his modest background. He's soon to wed into a millionaire family, wining and dining corporate elites in Bangkok, but destiny (and some melodramatic twists) pulls him back to his village—and to his father's humble idli shop, which was of greater significance than he ever bothered to observe.

 

The movie begins well, with a tearful prologue that points out the relationship between Murugan and his father Sivanesan (Raj Kiran). Their philosophies couldn't be more divergent—one in simplicity, the other in pursuit of wealth. As Murugan's Bangkok life around the job's political underbelly and his conflict with Ashwin (Arun Vijay), the spoiled son of his employer Vishnu Vardhan (Sathyaraj), topples, he returns home and becomes the torchbearer to revive his father's favorite restaurant. This is a familiar process of redemption, pride, and rice flour.

 

Dhanush, both actor and narrator, remains well within his emotional comfort zone. Idli Kadai mirrors the sentimental tone of Pa. Pandi and even appropriates emotional genes from Thevar Magan, especially the way the rural romance between Murugan and Kayal (Nithya Menen) unfolds. Their romantic story is by far the most refreshing part of the film—understated, unhurried, and grounded in respect. It's a refreshing change of pace from over-the-top core conflict with Ashwin, whose villainy is about as cardboard as it can possibly be.

 

The movie isn't afraid of melodrama—but neither does it do anything interesting with it. From the obliging childhood pal to the crooked-but-fair cop, every character is drawn from a shelf-worn playbook of cliches. Even Murugan's anti-violence stance against Ashwin—a potentially rich thread—is treated with little nuance. The emotional hits land in places, largely because of the quality of the performances, but the script never does anything daring.

 

More troubling is the tone of the film beneath its surface. In attempting to celebrate "roots," Idli Kadai sometimes crosses over into reactionary land—glamourizing rural life at the cost of singling out those who depart, and characterizing urban ambitions as shallow or selfish. There is a thin line between celebrating simplicity and stigmatising ambition, and Idli Kadai frequently treads over it.

 

Nevertheless, Dhanush's genuineness as a director is there. He delivers conviction even on the most clichéd of scenes. There's craftsmanship in here—the soft visuals, the gritty score, and the low-key pacing all combine to create a certain emotional familiarity. But that familiarity is at the expense of surprise. You know precisely where the film is going, and it gets there without ever diverging from the path.

 

Idli Kadai is endearing and innocent, but it plays it too safe. It's comfort food filmmaking—cosy and retrograde, but no spice or sting that might have made it truly memorable. For an actor of Dhanush's stature, it's time to strive for something greater than sentimental simplicity.

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