Coolie

The Masterpiece That Almost Was: How 'Coolie' Lost Its Way

A filmmaker's perspective on untapped narrative potential

As someone currently navigating post-production on my debut feature. I watched Coolie with fascination and frustration. Here was a film with all the right ingredients — star power, style, inventive set-pieces — but somewhere along the way, it lost sight of its story.

What Worked: The Foundation Was Solid

This wasn’t a film without merit. Rajinikanth, with that effortless swagger — The way he flicks the beedi — reminded us why he’s still the Superstar. Nagarjuna brought his presence, Upendra was used effectively, Shobin gave a powerful performance, and the ensemble had chemistry you could feel.

Some action sequences genuinely innovated too: the graveyard fight was fresh, the Satyaraj machine concept felt like a tangible McGuffin, and Anirudh’s score soared at its best moments. These flashes weren’t accidents — they came from careful craft.

Where the Wheels Came Off

But somewhere in the second half, the film unraveled. Audience reviews summed it up: “Second half didn’t work,” “Too much fan service,” “Lost the plot.” Those are symptoms. The disease was narrative chaos.

The film became a khichdi — too many ingredients competing for attention, drowning out the flavor that should have anchored everything: the Simon–Deva conflict.

The Core That Should Have Been

At its heart, this could have been a gripping vendetta story — Simon avenging his father’s death at Deva’s hands. That blood feud was the emotional engine. Everything else should have revolved around it.

Imagine a version where Shobin isn’t a rogue cop, but Deva’s embedded spy — only to be flipped by Simon into a double agent. Or a climax where Deva finally confronts Simon, expecting a one-on-one reckoning. But Dahaa appears, and suddenly it's two against one – the ultimate betrayal.

As Simon moves in for the kill, Dahaa has a moment of moral clarity. He realizes that what Simon's father did was genuinely wrong. Dahaa’s loyalty wavers, and his moral awakening turns the tide of battle. Suddenly, every subplot serves the central conflict. Every scene carries weight.

Also — Deva reuniting with his daughter, a hug — could have given us that Kaithi-like emotional anchor that transforms spectacle into something we truly care about.

The Film That Could Have Been

With tighter focus on Simon vs. Deva, meaningful arcs for every character, and action that revealed character instead of burying it, Coolie could have been unforgettable.

Because great action cinema isn’t about stunts alone. It’s about making us care. Every explosion, every fistfight, every stylish shot must serve story — not replace it.

The Director's Dilemma: When Truth Becomes Inconvenient

Coolie needed someone in the room saying, “This action sequence doesn’t serve the story,” or “We’re losing the emotional thread.” Those conversations sting, but they’re the ones that save films.

In the chaos of production, surrounded by yes-men and enthusiastic collaborators, honest voices often fade. Ego, pressure, or simple human nature makes us hear what we want to hear. But the uncomfortable truth is this: The voices that dare to point out the flaws are often the ones that help you shape something beautiful.

Do directors push away people who tell them the truth? Too often, yes.

As I move through post-production on my debut feature, I’m trying to resist that instinct. I share the film with a small core group whose opinions I trust. I listen to every perspective but in the end, I choose what truly serves the story. And I make sure to keep close the one voice that says, “this isn’t working.”

Because for me, it comes down to a single question: Does this serve the story, or am I just showing off?

If I can keep asking that — and keep the truth-tellers in the room — then maybe I’ll be doing the right thing.

by Raj Rajan