The film Maharaja weaves a masterful revenge tale through intertwining timelines, delivering poetic justice with precision. A father’s love powers the story, but why does its male-dominated lens silence the very women it seeks to defend?
By Ravgun Kaur
Picture: (cropped): Via Pixabay, CC0
A bizarre complaint about a stolen dustbin shocks the police: Maharaja, the protagonist, is offering an extravagant 7-lakh-rupee (approximately 8000 €) reward for its return. On the surface, it seems absurd that a dustbin could warrant importance. But beneath this strange request lies a devastating truth. The dustbin is no more than a ruse, a carefully constructed distraction, masking Maharaja’s true motive—to uncover the predator lurking among the very officers in the room, the one responsible for the brutal assault on his daughter, Jyothi.
The film makes an admirable attempt to spotlight male-driven efforts toward justice for women. At its core lies Maharaja’s unwavering love for his daughter, his respect for her individuality, and a relentless pursuit of justice in her name. Vijay Sethupathi, in the lead role, embodies a calm and humble persona with remarkable finesse. His sentimentalism is conveyed beautifully—anger is carefully measured, never jeopardizing his covert intentions, while his emotional vulnerability emerges only in moments tied to his daughter. Sethupathi skillfully transitions between an ordinary struggling man, an introvert, a devoted father, and an avenging hero, blending these traits into a single, well-rounded character with ease.
Male Sentimentality Takes Center Stage
Maharaja’s grief is not isolated as the film explores male emotional depth, unveiling how even flawed men can be moved to challenge injustice. The corrupt police officers, who initially accept Maharaja’s case for a bribe, soon uncover the true weight of his complaint. What begins as opportunism turns into a genuine sense of justice, sparking unexpected solidarity among these flawed men. They ultimately stand united against one of their own—Nallasivam, the man responsible for Jyothi’s assault. In doing so, they challenge the confines of hegemonic masculinity and redefine strength and integrity. By stepping outside the rigid confines of the law, they enable the protagonist to take justice into his own hands, prioritizing morality over procedure in a powerful act of feminism amongst men.
Male sentimentality is the emotional cornerstone of the film. Even Selvam, the ruthless antagonist, harbors an intense love for his wife and daughter. While nothing else stirs his conscience, his family abandoning him for his crimes becomes his ultimate undoing. His regret, once simmering beneath his cruelty, erupts in the film’s final moments. In a raw and hauntingly powerful scene, Selvam collapses in uncontrollable grief, his wails reverberating as he is consumed by the weight of his actions. This heartbreaking display of regret becomes the film’s emotional crescendo, leaving a lasting and profound impact on the viewer.
With its non-linear narrative and an awe-inspiring twist, Maharaja is nothing short of a masterpiece. However, it stumbles in one crucial area. While the script skillfully crafts well-rounded male characters with genuine emotional depth and integrity, it falls glaringly short in giving its female characters the same complexity. Despite being centred on a woman’s trauma and agency, the narrative sidelines the very voices it seeks to defend, leaving the female perspective underexplored in an otherwise remarkable film.
His Title, Her Story
The choice to name the film after the male protagonist feels skewed. While the narrative revolves around Maharaja’s pursuit of justice, it is ultimately his daughter’s suffering that drives his actions. Naming the film after him reduces the woman’s experience to a mere catalyst for male-driven heroism. The symbolic meaning of his name which means ‘emperor’ or ‘great king’ in Hindi – further shifts the focus from a simple character reference to the idealization of his masculinity. Maharaja is portrayed as an ordinary man elevated to mythic status, performing overblown feats such as toppling building pillars and beheading a perpetrator on a moving motorbike. The film could have been much more authentic by focusing on the raw, grounded rage of a grieving father figure seeking justice through realistic means. Instead, it glorifies his strength and resolve as the ultimate male saviour, indulging in exaggerated machismo.
Maharaja (2024)
Starring: Vijay Sethupathi, Mamta Mohandas
Directed by: Nithilan Saminathan
Female characters, meanwhile, are largely reduced to roles of victimhood. An alternative, more compelling narrative could have been one where Jyothi’s mother seeks revenge. However, this possibility is eliminated early in the story—she dies in an accident when Jyothi is just a baby, leaving no opportunity for a woman to take on the role of avenger. This absence reinforces the film’s male-centric bias, with the responsibility for justice defaulting to the father.
Jyothi herself is off-screen for much of the film, away at a sports camp, only to reappear as a victim of assault, confined to a hospital bed. This absence leaves no room for her to reclaim agency, as she is scarcely present in her own story.
Filling the Gap with Tokenism
Aasifa, the female teacher, stands out as one of the rare women in the film who isn’t a victim- but her role is painfully underdeveloped. She pops up in a few fleeting scenes: helping Jyothi in class, standing up to a male student’s false accusation, and later during Jyothi’s confrontation with the assault culprit. But in each instance, she barely speaks—two of those scenes don’t even give her any lines at all. Her support is mostly non-verbal, such as placing a hand on Jyothi’s shoulder or helping her walk.
The actress, Mamta Mohandas delivers a commendable performance despite being given almost nothing to work with. Her silent solidarity and quiet confidence are conveyed beautifully through her body language and expressions. She makes the most of the scraps the script offers her and her strong screen presence commands memorability. But her character is heavily underexplored and hollow, as though she was dropped in to tick a box. If Aasifa were removed from the film, no one would notice. She’s nothing more than the film’s empty gesture at female representation—an afterthought that stands in stark contrast to the substantial roles given to every male character, even the most minor ones.
Maharaja: Takes the Crown, But Misses the Mantle
Maharaja stands out as an exceptional film, with its intricate narrative, stellar performances, and powerful social commentary on justice, corruption, and masculinity. The film’s remarkable achievements—cinematically and thematically—cannot be ignored. While its flaw of sidelining female characters is significant, it remains a highly recommended watch. Like any work of art, it deserves to be appreciated for its positives while keeping an eye open to its shortcomings.
