What’s Leo about? A middle-class bloke—one, Parthiban, nicely settled with family in the hills, who could have a ‘history of violence’. The latter also being the title of a 2005 David Cronenberg thriller, that this film is reportedly inspired by
Pic/Poster
Film: Leo
Cast: Vijay, Trisha Krishnan, Sanjay Dutt, Gautam Menon
Director: Lokesh Kanagaraj
Rating: 1.5/5
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Here’s why some self-taught screenwriting rules aimed at an unabashed crowd-pleaser can be a trap sometimes. What’s Leo about?
A middle-class bloke—one, Parthiban, nicely settled with family in the hills, who could have a ‘history of violence’. The latter also being the title of a 2005 David Cronenberg thriller, that this film is reportedly inspired by.
This entire movie, therefore, rests on a key suspense. Which is, if this regular fellow, with two kids, and a wife, he fears and loves to death, could have been a dreaded gangster/assassin in the past.
What does the film start with? As per a self-imagined diktat for an actioner—a deliriously high-octane, adrenaline-pumping, stress-inducing sequence, within the first few minutes, with this middle-class family man, laying a crazy trap to catch a hyena in Himachal Pradesh.
The locals and police can’t make head or tail of how to nab this hyena. We’re told, they’re better suited to tame cheetahs instead, and that’s kinda surprising—cheetahs have been extinct in India since independence.
Enter Parthiban, with all the chops and stunts of an action star, diving, duelling with the hyena, with a spear. The VFX may not be The Revenant (2015) levels. Aptly, it isn’t one bit embarrassing.
It’s a killer scene between man and beast. Whatever happened, though, to laying out long-assed doubts, if this person Parthiban, could be Leo, with a bloody history and a macho past (that the pic is centred on)? Well, you’re in the theatre, you decide.
What’s Leo likely to remind Hindi filmgoers of, most instantly? Genre-wise, Jawan (2023), which is still playing in theatres on its sixth week. Also, because of composer Anirudh Ravichander on the console—belting out peppy tracks that rival Jawan’s.
I’ve only recently been introduced to Anirudh. There’s a certain go-for-broke quality to his theatrical soundtrack, often going full English on the lyrics, ‘Shit scared’, ‘Dad’s a badass’… Pumping up the volume with what sounds like, say, ‘Makeba’ by Jain. Undeniably, total concert feels. What’s there not to love. The makers of John Wick could sufficiently gain a thing or two here.
Also, like Jawan, there’s the hero, namely Vijay, 45, flitting between the young and the old man’s role. As with Shah Rukh Khan in the Atlee actioner, that gets elevated with its strong political messaging—the older, rugged version of the lead appears way cooler. He’s got a bouffant hair/wig, falling over his eyes. Rajinikanth being the template, of course.
Especially, when you consider the second, top-class set-piece in the pre-interval Leo. That’s when some random goons show up at a café that ‘Papa’ Parthiban runs.
The mayhem that follows, around the background score, somehow reminded me of the iconic, ‘Rajinikanth-Govinda bar-fight with jukebox’ sequence in Mukul Anand’s Hum (1991). No, they’re not exactly the same; far from it.
While this film references the Amitabh Bachchan/SRK-starrer, Don, in dialogues, I have no idea why, all through, it reminded me so much of the scaled-up masterpiece, Hum—once aiming, so ahead of its time, for a pan-Indian audience. Delivering a similar story of a man (Bachchan), with a violent past, that his happy family is wholly unaware of. Before he’s forced to revisit it, because of certain circumstances. Chiefly, the incredible villain, Bakhtawar (Danny Denzongpa).
Like a bunch of Pakistani batters having a bad day on the pitch—Leo, from the introduction of the villain onwards, collapses so quickly on its face, you stop looking at the screen, beyond a point.
That’s Sanjay Dutt, in probably his most moronic role ever. You can, of course, guess why Dutt (KGF2) gets cast down South as the antagonist. There’s something about his walk, swag, and the huge face, with deep lines and scars, naturally adding to the allure.
This character, though, is okay to kill his kids. He religiously follows Hindu kundli/horoscopes from a Christian priest. His gang, sitting in a room with Olympic torches for natural light, are dumber still. They’re all dying. All they care for is if Parthiban is Leo. Much after you’ve stopped caring for the film altogether.
Which is basically when the movie simply descends into showcasing the star at the centre, i.e., Thalapathy Vijay. Leo is obviously a Tamil tentpole release.
I watched it in its Hindi dub—so far as I could figure, without losing anything in translation. But for filmmaker Anurag Kashyap making a one-line cameo, before he’s bumped off—that one line sounds hilariously squeaky, because he didn’t dub it in Hindi himself.
As it is, the movie is set in the North (Himachal). I caught it at a low-priced multiplex in Sion, Mumbai, with Vijay’s mad fans blasting loud crackers—dirtying up the theatre with confetti, that’s impossible to clean up between shows.
Major multiplex chains chose not to screen Leo, because the filmmakers’ decision to drop it on Netflix, within four weeks of release. It’s a shame. This is, strictly speaking, even at its unbearable worst, a big screen entertainer.
The sorts that such few Bombay directors are good at. Which explains SRK’s success with Atlee. And while he’s the Chennai man about town in Mumbai, currently—goes without saying, barring Jawan, Lokesh Kanagaraj (Loki, who’s never lowkey; Master, Vikram) >> Atlee (Mersal, Bigil).
Only, the point of this entire pic seems to be choreographing action sequences over fast-paced, eye-level drone shots—looks fab, but that’s it.
I got into the messy, massy cinema, because of some folks live-tweeting commentary on Leo: “Watched until interval. It’s wow!” They were right. Didn’t hear from them after. Aage?
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