Mark Antony review: SJ Suryah makes this cringe comedy occasionally fun

Mark Antony is set between 1975 and 1995, the two time periods connected by a phone that functions as a time machine. (Screen grab/Think Music India)

Characters in time travel science-fiction films usually want to go back to the past to prevent a certain event from happening. Adhik Ravichandran’s Mark Antony is on those lines too, but there is very little physics in this over-the-top action comedy that has a screenplay resembling an amusement park brochure.  That is, every nook and corner is designed to excite or thrill – a relentless sensory overload. But if all amusement parks have a ‘star’ ride that attracts maximum visitors, SJ Suryah is Mark Antony’s roller coaster.

Mark Antony is about two fathers and two sons – Antony and his son Mark (both played by Vishal), and Jackie Pandian and his son Madhan Pandian (both played by SJ Suryah). Vishal is no match for SJ Suryah who sinks his teeth into the dual roles with relish. The former is wooden and unable to carry the wackiness that the roles demand. He’s neither convincing as the meek Mark nor as the menacing Antony (the change in voice is grating).
SJ Suryah, on the other hand, is exponentially extra, often saving the skit-like scenes from falling flat. The interval block that intercuts action sequences from two different time periods, for example, works primarily because of how much Suryah is able to amp up the drama, wonky wig and all.

The title, of course, comes from Rajinikanth’s blockbuster gangster drama Baasha (1995) where Raghuvaran played the memorable antagonist Mark Antony. There are hat-tips to other old Tamil movies too – references to Ajith’s films (Ravichandran is a self-confessed Ajith fan), plot threads from popular gangster dramas, and songs from earlier decades. The obvious inspirations from Venkat Prabhu’s time loop thriller Maanaadu (2021) are deliberate too.

Mark Antony is set between 1975 and 1995, the two time periods connected by a phone that functions as a time machine. Ravichandran lays on the retro effect thickly, from the glitzy club set to the extravagant action sequences, costumes, hairdos, music and the colouring of the frames. There’s even a questionable “cameo” involving late actor Silk Smitha (Vishnupriya Gandhi) that triggered a massive buzz about the film ahead of its release.
The storytelling, though, is reflective of our times, displaying all the depth of an Instagram reel. The film oscillates wildly from being a parody to asking you to take its “mass” moments and mummy sentiment seriously. Rather like an Instagram influencer who talks body positivity one day and is promoting a diet food brand the next. The tonal shifts are jarring, converting the film into pure spectacle that you watch from a distance.

You constantly get the feeling that the actors on screen are far more amused by the scenes than you are. Take Y Gee Mahendran’s character who is called Mama-Auntie. He wears two plaits and is attracted to his brother-in-law. To underline his “gayness”, SJ Suryah uses the infamous “Avana nee?” line on him – a phrase that has been repeatedly tossed around in Tamil films to denigrate and humiliate gay men. There are also transwomen who either throw their hair around and dance vigorously or are portrayed as criminals. Maybe Ravichandran thought a time travel film should necessarily have regressive humour to make it “authentic”? The director has a poor track record when it comes to sensitive representation, and he’s clearly not in the mood to improve.

Ravichandran appears to be inspired by Nelson Dilipkumar’s cinematic universe that is populated with criminal weirdos who are more comic than brutal. The kooky characters, though, are just kooky because of how they’re dressed – there is no material built on them. The writing consistently goes for low-hanging fruit, including innuendo-laden “anaconda” jokes accompanied by pelvic thrusts. Sexual humour can be extremely funny when it’s done with some amount of intelligence, but this is decidedly in the cringe category. Ritu Varma is wasted as the “love interest”, a receptacle to inane dialogues about “pasanga” and true love, a Ravichandran trademark.Mark Antony is loud, showy and unapologetic about its shallowness. If it is occasionally fun, it is because of SJ Suryah’s ability to take the ball and run with it.