There is nothing much you can expect from a film that calls its hero The Greatest of All Time. Hero worship is in the DNA of this new Venkat Prabhu film. It looks at Vijay with reverence and makes us see why it wants to bow down in front of him. In a double role, Vijay takes us through the arena of good vs evil. As M. S. Gandhi, the actor is not completely non-violent but exudes a sense of decency. His paternal instincts are almost tangible, and he performs his professional duty with such assurance that he is quite believable as a Special Anti-Terrorism Squad (SATS) member. He becomes better after a personal tragedy when his beard becomes gray, and his eyes turn softer. He looks like someone who has a lot of life experience. When Vijay steps into the shoes of Sanjay/Jeevan, he resembles a maniac for whom the boundaries of morality have blurred. His eyes seem to pop out of his head. He always appears to be moving some part of his body restlessly, as if he has injected caffeine into his blood. M. S. Gandhi and Jeevan/Sanjay might look the same, but Vijay separates them through his performance. Vijay, according to Prabhu, is the Dhoni of Indian cinema. He really proves he is the GOAT.
Unfortunately, there is nothing else to hold onto here except Vijay's acting. The opening scene, set on a moving train, is noisy and charged with quick-cut editing that nonetheless fails to conceal the lack of imagination. The fight is generically choreographed; the visuals, too, scream "artificial." Before the train sequence can end, your senses become numb. The action scenes that follow, like the one involving an access card or that chase sequence on the streets of Bangkok, only deepen your feeling of tedium. Prabhu charges these moments with an impersonal excitement. The screen orders you to clap and whistle, but you are too tired to elicit any reaction. What's worse is that we have not yet reached the interval. Prabhu wrote The Greatest of All Time with Ezhilarasu Gunasekaran, K. Chandru, Manivannan, and Balasubramaniyam. Didn't any of them object to the presence of that Spider-Man song, which is played when Gandhi's family is attacked in Bangkok? The intention might have been to convey something along the lines of "Look how this son who respects his father will become a horrible villain." But you only feel that the filmmakers are trying to cushion the sadness. Hence, that scene where Gandhi tells his wife, Anu (Sneha), that their son is no more merely comes across as an acting exercise - you are detached from the emotions.
What also prevents you from fully immersing yourself in this scene is that we remain two steps ahead of GOAT. It becomes clear to us that the deceased person is not Gandhi's son. When Gandhi reunites with Jeevan after many years, we instantly suspect something is off. Jeevan's suspicious behavior, his avoidance of eye contact, and his discomfort when Gandhi breaks down and grabs his legs all raise red flags. This is why you can easily guess the identity of the person in a Devil helmet. Still, the reveal comes with much fanfare, as if the rug has been pulled from beneath the feet of the audience. We merely give a "I knew it was you" shrug. Prabhu, in other words, fails to intrigue us - the movie spoils itself. The director caters to the needs of the Tamil audience, leading to clunky song and dance sequences. With unexpected plot twists, the second half is definitely more bearable. After an hour or so of enervation, you begin to settle for less and less. It's fitting that the climax unfolds at a cricket stadium. The Greatest of All Time, after all, is like a cricket match because you merely end up remembering the highlights and forget everything else. The movie's equivalent of a six is any moment where Vijay comes on the screen with a rousing bang (his appearance on a metro as he stands behind a friend, his introduction at the beginning when he takes off a mask, the reveal at a stadium where he stands with somebody's father, etc.). There are two or three good jokes (see how Prabhudeva enters a room through a barely open door and listens to the Yogi Babu character as he proudly tells police officers that "customers" give him good reviews). There is a nice scene where Gandhi realizes who the real backstabber is. Yet, the movie mostly feels mechanical. Whenever Prabhu does not adore Vijay with loud trumpets, he becomes indifferent. During the climax, he appears so absorbed with his hero that he lets scenes overstay their welcome. By the time the enemy dies, you experience a sense of relief not due to his death but because you feel free to exit the theater. If you stay for the end credits, you will see bloopers, which seems like a weird element to add to an action thriller.
A mid-credits scene puts The Greatest of All Time in the realm of science fiction. Sure, the filmmakers must have thought that since the movie is opening with a sci-fi trick, it should also end with a similar ingredient. But it feels unnecessary and forced. This movie didn't need a sequel, but I guess Prabhu is following the stupid trend: Milk the cow; generate as many sequels/universes as possible. This is why he also inserts a useless cameo. You don't remember much about the film when you leave the theater. It means nothing to you after a few hours. The Greatest of All Time says Vijay is terrific, and we reply, "Sure, why not?" However, after this mutual agreement, the movie offers nothing significant to us.
Final Score- [4/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times