Paramasivan Fathima dares to tread where few in Tamil cinema have. In a cinematic landscape dominated by Dravidianist narratives that often seek to de-Hinduize Tamil identity, this film plants its feet firmly in the soil of Tamil spiritual tradition and boldly questions the unsettling realities of religious conversions sweeping through the hinterlands.
At its core, the film exposes how Christian missionary activity, often masked under the garb of charity and upliftment, can fracture not just families but entire villages. Be it chocolates handed to innocent children or job offers dangled before the desperate, the film doesn’t shy away from depicting how conversion through enticement erodes native culture and community bonds.
The most striking achievement of Paramasivan Fathima lies in its rejection of the myth that Tamil Nadu is solely “Periyar’s Land.” Instead, it reclaims the Tamil identity through the spiritual lens of Periyapuranam, honoring ancestral worship and asserting the omnipresence of Shiva as central to Tamil heritage. The film also doesn’t hold back when it comes to calling out religious fanatics who brand Hindus as Satan-worshippers.
The film highlights a critical issue: government-aided schools run by Christian institutions receive public funding for salaries and operational costs, yet they actively engage in religious indoctrination and are openly identified as Christian establishments. This contradiction was also emphasized by the director during the press meet. The filmmakers could’ve made this the core of the film just like how Director Mohan G effectively made the issue of ‘crypto-Christians’ the central core in Rudra Thandavam. Missionary forces misusing foreign funds and engaging in illicit activities gets only a passing mention with no depth.
The film also gives strong rebuttals to Dravidianist filmmakers. In one scene, the protagonist delivers a stinging rebuttal to a character (played by M.S. Bhaskar) who parrots the colonial cliché that we owe our education to the British. “They came here to beg,” he retorts. No Gnanavels were harmed in this scene.
In another scene, a character played by ‘Cool’ Suresh utters the line, “Once you make a woman fall in love with you, you should finish the ‘matter’ immediately.” The protagonist’s immediate slap felt like a tight slap given to a certain caste-obsessed filmmaker.
Yet, for all its boldness in content, Paramasivan Fathima falters in craft. The first half is sluggish, bogged down by clichéd tropes and clumsy writing. The supernatural elements, which could’ve elevated the story into something mythic and memorable, suffer from a lack of narrative innovation. Dubbing mismatches in multiple scenes disrupt immersion, and while the film’s shoestring budget is understandable, it doesn’t excuse the uneven screenplay and underwhelming execution. The second half of Paramasivan Fathima is where the narrative gains momentum but by that time, you’ve already had enough.
The film also flirts with the supernatural, building toward a Kantara-esque climax with metaphysical realm rooted in Tamil Hindu belief systems. But it doesn’t have the magic that Kantara has.
In the hands of more seasoned storytellers, this could’ve been Tamil cinema’s Kantara—a spiritual, cultural, and cinematic experience rolled into one. But even with its flaws, Paramasivan Fathima stands out as a rare, gutsy voice in Tamil cinema—unafraid to ask uncomfortable questions, challenge dominant dogmas, and reclaim space for a more rooted, unapologetic Tamil Hindu identity.
Kaushik is a freelance writer.
Subscribe to our channels on Telegram, WhatsApp, and Instagram and get the best stories of the day delivered to you personally.