Fiery Performance by Dhruv Vikram in Mari Selvaraj’s ‘Bison Kaalamaadan’ – A Riveting Review

“I constantly find myself leaping over countless barriers, unsure how far I must go to find a place free of these fences,” laments Kittaan, the young hero of Bison Kaalamaadan. Weary from the many communal obstacles hindering his dream of becoming a national Kabaddi champion, Kittaan relentlessly pushes himself, body and soul, throughout much of the film. This poignant sentiment reappears later, with another character echoing it but changing ‘far’ to ‘high’—suggesting that freedom from societal constraints isn’t achieved by merely escaping, but by shattering the very structures of oppression. This powerful dialogue perfectly summarizes the core theme of master filmmaker Mari Selvaraj’s fifth film, Bison Kaalamaadan. It’s a politically astute and emotionally resonant drama, marking his most mainstream work to date.

Following his masterpiece Vaazhai, Mari creates a harsh world where hatred runs so deep that even a casual encounter can ignite a violent storm. He portrays this unflinchingly in a chilling scene where a man commits an abhorrent act of sacrilege on a town bus. This is just one of many brilliantly crafted scenes in Bison, revealing why Kittaan’s father (Pasupathy) advises him against his Kabaddi dreams in their land. It also subtly suggests how even sacred customs can acquire sinister meanings, which fascinatingly, also applies to the simmering rage in Kittaan’s eyes and the violence perpetuated by two feuding caste groups – led by Pandiarajan (Ameer Sultan) and Kandasamy (Lal).

Inspired by the real-life story of Indian Kabaddi champion and Arjuna-awardee Manathi Ganesan, Bison chronicles the countless dangers faced by a young boy who dared to aspire beyond what was expected of him. His battles are layered: first, he must convince his overprotective father to allow him to play (drawing parallels to Sarpatta Parambarai, where a violent sport also becomes a path to social freedom, and Pasupathy’s character initially hesitates). Kittaan’s school teacher (a wonderfully positive Madankumar Dakshinamoorthy) earns the audience’s cheers for successfully persuading the father to let his son pursue his dreams.

Kittaan then confronts issues within his own community: his father’s feud with a relative creates new conflicts. This becomes complicated as the relative’s sister, Rani (Anupama Parameswaran, who deserved more screen time), harbors feelings for Kittaan (boldly challenging the taboo of an older woman falling for a younger man). Beyond these personal struggles, Kittaan must navigate the deeply entrenched hatred in his town, and later, the bias against the state he represents in the national Indian team, and so on.

However, Mari’s narrative avoids a linear progression. The film opens non-linearly, showing Kittaan, now a national player, benched during a crucial Asian Games match against arch-rivals Pakistan in Japan, 1994, subtly highlighting the futility of all enmities.

In another display of his narrative fluency, Mari skillfully weaves surreal imagery into his visual storytelling, such as depictions of the local deity Kaalamaadan and a sacred goat, or a shot of two marsh fish in a cage intercut with Kittaan and Rani entwined in a swamp. Few contemporary Tamil filmmakers celebrate the natural state of their worlds with such sincerity, and the film’s many breathtaking montages and drone shots deserve special commendation. Interestingly, Bison even surpasses Karnan as Mari’s most mainstream film. We are treated to an elaborate gangster drama arc, featuring the two caste leaders locked in a power struggle, and the filmmaker shocks with his unrestrained portrayal of gruesome violence.

At times, the depiction of violence becomes unsettling, with knives piercing bodies and dismembered flesh scattered in pools of blood. Yet, Mari’s cinematic violence effectively conveys its ultimate futility, and this message resonates powerfully. Both Lal’s and Ameer’s gangster characters are integral to Kittaan’s journey; they are two sides of the same coin, deeply mired in corruption. It’s truly difficult, but Mari even makes you empathize with them, making their brutal tearing apart even more impactful. What Lal demonstrates through a noble act, Ameer articulates directly: the fight that began for equality has devolved into a vengeance-fueled thirst for power.

This is Mari making a profound political statement, not only challenging the terrifying faces of the oppressors but also prompting introspection among the oppressed: Is the fight still about equality, or has it become a quest for domination? The dialogues in Bison are rousing—whether a line that silences critics of caste-based reservation or the poignant observation that while the world focuses on one or two opponents, Kittaan has had to fight everyone around him, burdened by the weight of generations of prejudice. When he helplessly expresses how he could have prepared for the hatred sown long before his birth, Dhruv’s Kittaan gives voice to the unspoken thoughts of many individuals in our casteism-ridden society.

In his first lead role with an original story, Dhruv Vikram delivers an impressive performance as Kittaan. It’s a role that demands a hidden intensity, and the actor transforms into an angry young man whom others can look up to. In moments when he unleashes his inner fire, the audience is sure to erupt with enthusiasm. Dhruv’s trained movements and powerful physique leave no doubt about his portrayal of a professional Kabaddi player, and Mari ensures that this remains, at its heart, a sports drama. Kabaddi is not an easy sport to depict cinematically for mass appeal, as it lacks many slow-motion-worthy moves. Yet, the choreography makes the games feel incredibly real and immediate, and the writing ensures every raid is nail-biting. It’s rare for multiple genres to blend so seamlessly, and Bison skillfully fuses elements of sports drama, biopic, social actioner, and gangster saga into a singular, compelling experience.

By the film’s end, a climactic shot brilliantly connects back to the Kaalamaadan deity, leaving viewers overcome with emotion. Few filmmakers can evoke such artistic prowess and conviction, and Mari is undoubtedly one of modern Tamil cinema’s most original greats. “When have they ever written our names so easily?” a character in Bison wonders. His fifth directorial venture is further proof that Mari Selvaraj has long immortalized his name as a truly rare game-changer.