Dhanush has always been a fascinating figure in Tamil cinema. He broke stereotypes, carved a niche in an industry obsessed with “hero looks”, and stunned audiences with raw, naturalistic performances. But if you watched the pre-release event of his latest film Kubera, directed by Shekhar Kammula, you might find yourself wondering—what happened to the Dhanush we once knew?
Dhanush’s speech at the Kubera launch turned heads, not for inspiration, but for its sheer theatricality. The line that became the buzz online was:
> “I’m trying to tame Pullin. I’m trying to break him.”
It was meant to sound deep. Maybe metaphorical. Perhaps he was talking about the tiger within, or the struggles he’s trying to overcome. But the audience didn’t buy it. What could’ve been a powerful declaration came off as a feeble imitation of Rajinikanth’s spiritual metaphors or Vijay’s fan-driven declarations.
And it didn’t end there.
He went on:
> “Even if I look at it that way, it won’t work because I have my fans. I love my fans. They are my everything. I’m with them in my crises.”
It was a speech drenched in performative emotion. It was the kind of monologue one would expect at a political rally or from a star trying to manufacture relevance. Unfortunately for Dhanush, it came off more like a parody of better speeches given by better showmen.
The Decline of an Intense Performer
To be fair, Dhanush’s early and mid-career were stacked with praise-worthy performances. Pudhupettai, Aadukalam, Polladhavan, VIP, Maryan, and Asuran—each showcased his range, commitment, and ability to elevate even average scripts with emotional depth. His Bollywood debut Raanjhanaa earned him national recognition, and his collaborations with Vetrimaaran were nothing short of artistic dynamite.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
Over the last few years, Tamil audiences have become increasingly indifferent to Dhanush’s films. There’s a fatigue—not just with the roles he chooses, but with the overplayed underdog narrative he keeps pushing. Every audio launch now involves Dhanush pouring his heart out about struggle, failure, betrayal, and redemption. Initially, these speeches struck a chord. Now, they feel like a broken record.
The truth is uncomfortable but undeniable—audiences no longer feel emotionally connected to Dhanush the way they once did.
Movies like Jagame Thandhiram, Naane Varuven, and Captain Miller failed to spark significant interest or conversations. Even the decently received Thiruchitrambalam felt like a blip in a larger trend of inconsistency. Vaathi had moments but failed to roar at the box office. The anticipation that once surrounded his releases has significantly diminished.
Let’s not forget the long-forgotten Vadachennai 2. Once touted as a revolutionary gangster epic, its current status is unknown. Fans have stopped asking about it, and Dhanush seems to have silently distanced himself from its promises. What happened? Who knows. And honestly, who still cares?
The Personal Fallout
While professional setbacks are part of every actor’s journey, Dhanush’s personal life added fuel to the decline.
His divorce from Aishwaryaa Rajinikanth was widely reported but curiously under-supported. Unlike other celebrities who receive waves of industry backing during tough times, Dhanush stood alone. This wasn’t because of malice—but perhaps because many in the industry didn’t see him as “their own” anymore.
At the Vaathi audio launch, he used the stage as a redemption arc—talking about pain, loneliness, and growth. While some sympathized, many cringed. The whitewashing was too evident. The vulnerability felt rehearsed. The story of a misunderstood, isolated star didn’t land well with an audience that had seen him in more powerful, unfiltered roles before.
And yet, he repeated the formula again during the promotions of Rayaan. Same sentiment. Same tone. Same “I am nothing without my fans” line. It wasn’t powerful—it was pitiful.
Even his elder brother Selvaraghavan, a respected filmmaker who helped shape Dhanush’s early career, publicly endorsed him as a “good man” and “a fighter.” But the applause was polite, not passionate. There’s only so much family can do when public perception begins to shift.
Copying Titans Never Works
What stings the most is how Dhanush’s speeches now appear like poor replicas of Rajinikanth and Vijay’s iconic oratory style.
Rajini’s speeches often tread a spiritual path. He philosophizes about life, karma, and the divine with humility and charm. Vijay keeps it short, crisp, and fan-focused, always knowing how to stir the crowd with coded messages.
Dhanush tries to do both. He speaks like he’s Rajini, but wants the mass adoration Vijay enjoys. The result? A confusing, often embarrassing blend that feels neither original nor effective.
Theatrics don’t suit him. He built his career on subtlety, vulnerability, and realism. The rawness in Aadukalam and Asuran wasn’t about mass moments—it was about emotional punches. Now, he’s trying to be a mass hero with lines that belong to a different league altogether.
And Tamil Nadu’s audience sees right through it.
Is It Too Late for a Comeback?
Comebacks aren’t impossible. In fact, the Tamil film industry loves a good redemption story. Vijay did it. STR did it. Even actors like Arvind Swami and SJ Suryah reinvented themselves with bold role choices.
But a comeback requires more than emotional speeches and social media strategy. It demands a deep, honest reinvention. Dhanush can no longer rely on playing the misunderstood genius. He needs to prove that he still has that fire—not just to act, but to connect.
His upcoming projects need to reflect the hunger he once had. Collaborations with auteurs, bold experiments, character-driven narratives—these can reignite his career. Perhaps, teaming up again with Vetrimaaran, or venturing into international indie films with directors like Vetri Maaran, Karthik Subbaraj, or even Anand L. Rai (who directed Raanjhanaa), could help.
But the bigger question is—does Dhanush still understand what the audience wants? Or is he too caught up in his own myth?
Where Do Fans Stand?
Here lies the biggest irony of Dhanush’s current phase: he keeps talking about his fans, but rarely listens to them anymore.
Fans have moved on. The current generation of cine-goers is more interested in fresh faces and compelling content. They aren’t bound by nostalgia. They need proof. They need performance. They need films that make them feel again.
Dhanush used to do that effortlessly. Today, he’s trying too hard to be what he no longer is.
Social media engagement doesn’t always reflect actual stardom. Trends fade. Likes are fickle. But true impact is felt in conversations—at tea shops, in college dorms, inside WhatsApp groups, and during real-life fan celebrations.
When was the last time you heard someone really talk about a Dhanush film with excitement?
When was the last time his film became the talking point of Tamil cinema?
When was the last time you waited for a Dhanush film?
If you’re struggling to recall, you’re not alone.
Conclusion: The Curtain Call or the Rebirth?
Dhanush’s farce speech at the Kubera event may have gone viral, but not for the reasons he hoped. It’s become a case study in how not to use a public platform when you’re trying to stage a comeback.
Yet, it’s not all over.
He is still immensely talented. He still has the skillset to surprise. What he lacks now is clarity—about where he fits in today’s cinema. If he can stop playing to an imaginary gallery and start trusting his inner artist again, the road to redemption is open.
But if he continues delivering these cringe-inducing speeches and mediocre films, the only thing he’ll be remembered for is how he lost the plot—both in cinema and in self-awareness.
Because at the end of the day, Tamil cinema has no room for pretenders. Only the real ones survive.