Tamil cinema today swings between two extremes — the glorified muscle of Lokesh Kanagaraj’s universe and the self-erasing fragility of films like Dude. Both claim to redefine manhood. Both end up misguiding it.
The Muscle Myth: Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Power Fantasy
Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Kaithi, Vikram, Master, and Leo celebrate men of brute power and emotional silence.
In his world, morality is replaced by swagger.
Dilli kills for justice; Vijay Sethupathi’s Santhanam kills for business — but both are shot like gods.
Suriya’s two-minute cameo as Rolex became a cult symbol of menace.
Even Arjun Das, as a villain, earned fandom for his voice and stare, not his values.
These films glorify control, aggression, and dominance — making power itself the new morality.
For young audiences, being feared becomes the same as being respected.
The Fragility Trap: Dude and the Cult of Self-Erasure
At the other extreme, Dude (2025) rejects muscles and action. Its hero is frail, guilt-ridden, and emotionally broken — sacrificing even his wife in the name of purity.
It’s the mirror image of toxic masculinity — pain mistaken for depth, weakness sold as virtue.
The film confuses empathy with helplessness.
Ironically, Sarathkumar, who plays a role in Dude, once embodied balanced masculinity in Suryavamsam (1997): strong yet tender, authoritative yet kind.
That balance feels extinct today.
Two Extremes, One Confusion
Between the “mass” hero and the “miserable” hero, Tamil cinema has lost emotional intelligence.
One glorifies force without compassion; the other glorifies compassion without strength.
Both leave young men confused about what to value — dominance or despair.
The Lost Middle: Rajinikanth’s Moral Strength
In the 1990s, Tamil cinema understood balance.
Rajinikanth was the embodiment of that middle path — the man who could fight ten people and still walk away with humility.
In Baasha (1995), he takes on gangsters, but his violence is driven by love and duty, not ego.
In Padayappa (1999), he’s proud but compassionate, firm but forgiving.
Even when logic bends, his emotional world remains true — strength guided by restraint, courage softened by empathy.
Rajinikanth’s heroes proved that masculinity need not shout to be powerful.
It can protect without oppressing. It can win without humiliating.
That moral clarity — once the backbone of Tamil heroism — is now replaced by either overdrive or self-destruction.
Why It Matters
Cinema shapes behavior as much as it mirrors it.
When heroes teach that masculinity means either to conquer or to collapse, young men internalize both as valid.
They admire aggression or glorify victimhood — not maturity.
True masculinity is neither muscle nor martyrdom.
It’s the courage to be powerful without cruelty, and kind without weakness.
It’s the strength to choose balance over extremes.
Until Tamil cinema rediscovers that balance, our screens will keep teaching the wrong kind of manhood — one built on biceps or broken hearts, never on integrity.
(chatGPT used)
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