From the very first frame, Coolie left no doubt that Rajinikanth remains cinema’s ultimate showman. His introduction, laced with gentle humour, flowed seamlessly into the hostel fight sequence, where his trademark sarcasm drew loud cheers. As the narrative unfolded, audiences were treated to the full spectrum of his craft—subtle pathos in remembering a friend and wife, a touch of nostalgia in his flashback sequences, and, most memorably, a volcanic monologue to Simon in the second half that had theatres shaking with applause. The dialogues themselves became instant mass moments, particularly when he revealed his true identity as Devaraj with the line, “Naan thaan… innuma enne yaarunu theriyale?” For fans, these moments reaffirmed that even in his 50th year on screen, Rajinikanth remains a performer who can single-handedly transform a scene into a celebration.
Anirudh, the Pulse of the Film
If Rajinikanth carried the film on his shoulders, Anirudh provided the heartbeat that kept it racing. His background score turned ordinary sequences into goosebump-inducing spectacles, fusing retro beats with contemporary arrangements that amplified every mass moment. Fans exiting theatres placed him next only to Thalaivar and Lokesh Kanagaraj as the film’s MVP. The Chikitu number became an instant FDFS anthem, with audiences erupting into cheers at Rajini’s effortless dance moves, while Monica set cinema halls alight despite debates about its placement in the narrative. The combination of Pooja Hegde’s charisma and Soubin Shahir’s wild dancing ensured that the track delivered pure entertainment. Much like his work in Jailer, Anirudh once again demonstrated his gift for elevating Rajinikanth’s aura through sound, proving indispensable to the film’s impact.
Supporting Cast: A Mixed Ensemble
The supporting cast delivered an uneven mix of highs and disappointments. Soubin Shahir emerged as the clear standout, effortlessly slipping into the skin of Dayal, a villain who oscillated between false vulnerability and chilling menace. Known primarily for grounded roles in Malayalam cinema, his transformation into a cold-blooded antagonist surprised audiences and drew comparisons to Vinayakan’s Varma from Jailer. Rachita Ram, largely overlooked in promotional material, turned out to be a revelation. Far from a cameo, her role was one of the meatiest after Soubin’s, and she infused it with conviction and emotional weight.
Upendra’s cameo as Kaleesha carried nostalgic heft, his mass persona shining brightly even within limited screen time. Shruti Haasan contributed a moment of heartbreaking gravitas, her crematorium breakdown striking a chord and proving her ability to balance vulnerability with intensity. Nagarjuna too earned praise for daring to shed his “noble hero” image and embracing a menacing villainy that surprised long-time admirers.
However, not all arcs resonated. Simon, positioned as a central antagonist, lacked menace due to weak writing rather than weak performance. Aamir Khan’s Dahaa, hyped as a ruthless presence, was reduced to caricature, frustrating fans who expected more from such a marquee cameo. Sathyaraj’s Rajasekhar character was left underdeveloped, while Shruti’s sisters added little value to the narrative, diluting what could have been a tighter father-daughter storyline.
Flashbacks, De-Aging and Storytelling Choices
The film’s flashback sequences carried significant expectations, with rumours suggesting a younger actor might be cast as Rajini’s Deva. Lokesh Kanagaraj avoided this potential pitfall by crafting fragmented, perspective-driven flashbacks that kept Rajinikanth at the centre while offering intriguing narrative layers. While this approach pleased fans, the de-aging effects and AI-assisted audio sparked mixed reactions. Many found them distracting during initial viewing, but on repeat watches, audiences appreciated how seamlessly they tied into the film’s themes of memory, trauma, and redemption. This narrative gamble may not have been flawless in execution, but it reinforced the director’s willingness to experiment with structure even in a mass entertainer.
Logic Gaps and Commercial Liberties
Despite the euphoria, fans did not shy away from calling out lapses in logic and narrative coherence. Shruti’s inexplicable decision to trust Rachita despite knowing she was Dayal’s wife puzzled viewers. Soubin’s repeated survivals—shrugging off hammer blows, car accidents, and even train falls—stretched believability to the point of parody, leading some to quip that he seemed more superhero than villain. Age inconsistencies between Nagarjuna’s son character and Shruti also drew attention, as did over-extended fight sequences that weakened pacing.
Perhaps most debated was the shift in focus midway through the film. The subplot involving organ trade and the symbolic “chair” drew attention away from the original smuggling narrative, leaving sections of the audience unsure about the central conflict. While many brushed these issues off as “commercial cinema liberties,” others insisted the second half desperately needed sharper writing and editing.
Visuals and Action: High Energy, Uneven Execution
Action sequences were staged on a grand scale but varied in impact. The mansion fight drew unanimous praise for its raw choreography and pulsating energy, while the Kingpin headquarters sequence, elevated by a vintage Rajini track, triggered euphoric nostalgia. Yet the climactic battle with Simon exposed weaknesses, with visible stunt double usage and inconsistent VFX that broke immersion. Even so, the atmosphere in theatres suggested that raw energy and Thalaivar’s aura were more than enough to compensate, as whistles and cheers drowned out the shortcomings.
Final Verdict: A Celebration With Cracks
As Rajinikanth marks his fiftieth year in cinema, expectations for Coolie were understandably sky-high. While the film does not ascend to the heights of his classics, it also falls far from the disaster some detractors proclaimed. Instead, it stands as a flawed but thoroughly enjoyable celebration of commercial cinema. The screenplay falters, the narrative meanders, and logic gaps invite debate, yet Rajinikanth’s performance, Anirudh’s music, and flashes of brilliance from the supporting cast ensure that the ride remains engaging.
For fans of unapologetic mass entertainment, Coolie offers enough highs to justify the frenzy. It is not a perfect tribute, but in the punchlines, the dance moves, and the goosebump-inducing BGM drops, it reminds audiences why Rajinikanth continues to be a phenomenon who transcends logic, language, and time.
