The Best Tamil Films That Defined Kollywood in 2018
If you look back at 2018, it feels less like a year in cinema and more like a statement. It was a 12-month period where Tamil filmmakers, writers, and actors just. went for it. The lines blurred in a way we'd never seen before. A gut-wrenching anti-caste anthem became a mainstream blockbuster. A quiet, nostalgic love story with no "action" had audiences cheering like it was an all-out masala film. A psycho-thriller was so terrifying it made us afraid to look at our own house keys.
This is the year Tamil cinema got its swagger back, not through cheap thrills, but through pure unadulterated craft. We saw a filmmaker chronicle the entire, complex ecosystem of a gangster-run North Madras. We saw a "Lady Superstar" carry a black comedy on her shoulders and make it look easy. 2018 was the year where the story was the hero, the screenplay was the "mass" moment, and the audience was finally, truly respected. It was a peak year, and walking back through its top 10 films feels like a masterclass in modern moviemaking.
Pariyerum Perumal
Pariyerum Perumal is not a movie you watch; it's an experience you survive. This is not a film; it is a stab to the heart. Mari Selvaraj’s debut is a searing, unflinching, and deeply personal look at the casual, soul-crushing humiliation of the caste system. We follow Pariyan, a young, optimistic law student from an oppressed community, who just wants an education and to be treated like a human being. His only crime? Existing. The film’s mascot, his dog "Karuppi" (whose brutal death opens the film), becomes a powerful, unforgettable metaphor for the value of his own life in the eyes of society.
This is a film defined by its craft and its courage. Santhosh Narayanan’s soundtrack is less music than a primal scream, especially the folk-art-infused “Karuppi” and haunted “Naan Yaar.” Fans were speechless during that scene where Pariyan is stripped, beaten, and urinated upon, and later, the gut-wrenching sequence where he is poisoned and has to beg for his life. But what crowns the film is, of course, that climax. Instead of a bloody revenge fantasy, Mari Selvaraj gives us a moment of quiet, earth-shattering dignity. The final conversation over two tea glasses is one of the most powerful, optimistic, and revolutionary endings in Tamil cinema history.
96
In an age of fast cuts and loud action, '96 is a beautiful, radical act of stillness. It’s a film that dares to be quiet, to be patient, and to just let us feel. C. Prem Kumar’s debut is a warm, golden-hued memory piece about two high school sweethearts, Ram (Vijay Sethupathi) and Jaanu (Trisha), who meet for the first time at their 22-year school reunion. The entire film, more or less, takes place over one single, magical, and heartbreaking night. It’s a conversation that was paused for two decades, and we get to be a fly on the wall as they unpack a lifetime of "what-ifs."
The film is, in essence, a triumph of performance. Vijay Sethupathi is a revelation as Ram, literally and figuratively a virgin to the world, having frozen his life in her memory. Trisha delivers her career best, her eyes speaking a universe of unspoken love, regret, and adult compromise. The craft is in the details: that mustard-yellow kurta, those old photographs, and Govind Vasantha's otherworldly score. "Anthaathi" is the entire soul of this film. The fan-loved scene? It’s a tie between Jaanu's haunting rendition of "Yamunai Aatrile" at the reunion and the climax at the airport—a wordless farewell that says more than any dialogue ever could.
Vada Chennai
This is no gangster movie; this is a dense, sprawling, breathtakingly ambitious novel. Vetrimaaran's Vada Chennai is the first of a planned epic, and it plays as one. It is an intricate, multi-generational saga about the rise and fall of cartels in North Chennai, all seen through the eyes of Anbu (Dhanush), a reluctant carrom player who is slowly, inevitably pulled into this world of crime. In fact, the film isn’t really about the gangsters; it’s about the politics, community, the betrayals, and the brutal code of honor that govern this world.
The film is a showcase for a stunning ensemble cast. Ameer as the principled, beloved gangster Rajan is the heart of the film, and his shocking betrayal and murder the event that sends ripples through the entire story. Aishwarya Rajesh as Padma is a firecracker, a "heroine" who is anything but a damsel. The fan-loved scene, without a doubt, is the prison fight. It’s not a stylish, slow-motion sequence; it’s a raw, chaotic, and terrifying explosion of violence that marks Anbu’s true, bloody initiation. Backed by Santhosh Narayanan’s gritty, raw score, Vada Chennai is Vetrimaaran and Dhanush at the absolute peak of their powers.
Ratsasan
Ratsasan is that rare thriller which doesn't just scare you-it damages you. This cold, clinical, and relentlessly terrifying cat-and-mouse game sees director Ram Kumar create an atmosphere of pure, suffocating dread. Vishnu Vishal plays Arun, an aspiring filmmaker who gives up his dream to become a cop, only to find himself hunting a real-life monster: a sadistic serial killer who targets schoolgirls. The film is a masterful procedural, treating its subject with a chilling seriousness that makes every new clue, and every new victim, feel deeply unsettling.
The greatest, and most horrifying, achievement of the film is its villain. The reveal of Christopher (Saravanan) is an all-time moment in Tamil cinema-a character so twisted, with a haunting backstory to boot, that he is pure nightmare fuel. The craft is in the editing and the score. Ghibran's BGM is a character in itself, a pulsing, high-pitched violin screech that spikes your anxiety every time it plays. Fans are still talking about the sheer, unbearable tension of the scene involving Arun's niece, or the shocking, brutal moment with the music teacher. Ratsasan is a flawlessly crafted machine built to do one thing: stop your heart.
Kolamaavu Kokila
Who knew a film about a mild-mannered girl turning into a drug mule could be this hysterically funny? Kolamaavu Kokila is a brilliant, pitch-perfect black comedy from debut director Nelson Dilipkumar. Nayanthara carries the entire film on her shoulders as Kokila, a young woman from a lower-middle-class family who gets into the cocaine-smuggling business to pay for her mother's cancer treatment. The genius of the film is in its deadpan tone. The danger is real, the stakes are high, but the people involved are all glorious, bumbling idiots.
Nayanthara is perfect, playing her "good girl" image to mask a cunning, ruthless survivor, but the film is stolen by its supporting cast, especially Yogi Babu, who gets the "fan-loved" moment of the decade with the "Kalyana Vayasu" song. His one-sided, hopelessly romantic pursuit of Kokila is both absurd and weirdly sweet. Anirudh's soundtrack is a blast, perfectly matching the quirky, dark, and energetic vibe of the film. This is evident in the scene where Kokila's entire unassuming family is forced to stage a bloody, improvised escape; it's a masterclass in blending high-stakes thrills with laugh-out-loud comedy.
Chekka Chivantha Vaanam
Mani Ratnam's back. That was the feeling in the theatre when CCV hit screens. This was a return to the director's raw, gritty, and stylish form, a Godfather-esque family epic about a war of succession. When the patriarch of a crime family, Senapathi, is almost assassinated, his three sons-Varadan, Thyagu, and Ethi-return, and their grief soon turns into a bloody, backstabbing fight for the throne. It's lean, mean, and absolutely crackling with star power.
The thrill of CCV is in watching this incredible cast of alpha males circle each other like sharks. Vijay Sethupathi, as the "good cop" Rasool, saunters in and steals the entire movie with a smirk, a few witty lines, and a shocking final-act twist. A.R. Rahman’s score is a monster, particularly the "Sevandhu Pochu Nenju" BGM that pulsates with every betrayal. Mani Ratnam’s craft is on full display; the film is all sharp-suited, sun-glassed cool, but with a rotten, Shakespearean core. The fan-loved scene? It has got to be the explosive, chaotic final shootout, where all the betrayals come home to roost in a hail of gunfire.
Irumbu Thirai
Irumbu Thirai took a concept we all vaguely feared—cyber-crime and data theft—and turned it into a slick, terrifying, and personal reality. This wasn't just a tech-thriller, but a wake-up call. Vishal plays Kathiravan, an anger-prone military officer whose entire life, and his family's savings, get suddenly "erased" by a faceless hacker. The film is a race against time while he tries to find the digital ghost who ruined him, only to discover the man behind the curtain is all too real.
The film's masterstroke is its villain. "Action King" Arjun, in a stunning comeback role, plays Sathyamoorthy-or "White Devil"-the kingpin of this data-theft empire. He's not a cackling villain; he's a calm, sophisticated, and utterly ruthless businessman, which makes him even scarier. Their rivalry is the core of the film. The most fan-loved scene is their first meeting, not in a fight, but in an elevator. The quiet, simmering tension between them is more exciting than any car chase. Yuvan Shankar Raja's BGM adds a layer of pulsing, digital dread to a thriller that was smart, relevant, and wildly entertaining.
8. Nadigaiyar Thilagam (Mahanati)
This is not a biopic; it's a resurrection. Nadigaiyar Thilagam is an amazing, epic, deeply respectful ode to the life of the legendary actress Savitri. It's a movie that could so easily have been a basic "greatest hits" compilation, but Nag Ashwin digs deeper, constructing a tale about her meteoric rise, her complex and turbulent love affair with Gemini Ganesan, played with perfection by Dulquer Salmaan, and her heartbreaking, tragic decline. This is a grand, old-school, "big-screen" epic, and at its center is one of the all-time great performances. Keerthy Suresh is not just playing Savitri; she becomes her. It's a transformative, note-perfect performance that just rises way beyond the realms of imitation.
She captures Savitri's infectious charm, her mischievous eyes, her powerful command of the screen, and, devastatingly, her vulnerability. Every inch of the craft in this film is extraordinary-from the pitch-perfect recreation of the classic film set to the costumes. The "Maya Bazaar" recreation sequence left the fans simply thrilled, while Keerthy proves her mettle with that single-take "two-tear drop" scene. It is that kind of film which makes one fall in love with an icon all over again.
9. Merku Thodarchi Malai
Amidst the big stars and even bigger budgets, Merku Thodarchi Malai was a quiet, powerful, and profound work this year. This is a "slice-of-life" film in the truest sense-a beautifully sad portrait of a community of landless laborers on the Western Ghats whose way of life is slowly erased by "progress." The film follows Rangsamy, a simple and good-hearted man with only one dream-to own a small patch of land that he can call his own. The movie does not have a conventional "plot"; it merely observes, with deep empathy, the daily rhythms, struggles, and joys of its people. The craft here is in its breathtaking authenticity.
Director Lenin Bharathi and producer Vijay Sethupathi made the radical choice to cast the real people of the mountains to play themselves, and the result is a film that feels less like drama and more like a documentary. Theni Eswar's cinematography is the real star, capturing the mist-covered mountains with a painter's eye. Fans still talk about the stunning, long, slow zoom-out shots that render human figures into tiny specs against the vast, indifferent landscape. With a minimalist, haunting score from Ilaiyaraaja, this film is a poem—a sad, beautiful, vital one.
10. Kaala
If Kabali was a stylish meditation, Kaala is an all-out war. Pa Ranjith's second collaboration with Rajinikanth is a dense, layered and frankly political film that makes "mass hero" the vehicle of a powerful statement. Rajinikanth plays Karikaalan, "The King of Dharavi," who protects his people and their land from a ruthless, land-grabbing politician, Hari Dada (a terrifyingly serene Nana Patekar). This is no gangster film; it is a boldly Ambedkarite-Periyarist fable in which "black" is the colour of revolution and "land" is a metaphor for rights and identity.
The film is full of powerful, iconic imagery. The "black" and "white" (Ram vs. Ravan) dynamic between Kaala and Hari Dada is brilliant. The female characters, from Eswari Rao's feisty Selvi to Huma Qureshi's conflicted Zareena, are strong and have real agency. But the fan-loved moment is the legendary interval block: the single-shot, rain-drenched fight on the bridge, which explodes into the "Nikkel Nikkel" war cry. And then, there is the climax—a revolutionary "protest" climax where Kaala is not a person but an "idea" that cannot be killed, culminating in a stunning "colour-powder" celebration of rebellion.