Filmmakers have always used certain symbols, motifs, and signifiers to represent ideas, concepts, and places. Over the many years, popular city landmarks, including the hotel Taj Mahal Palace in Mumbai and the Cubbon Park in Bengaluru, have been used as establishing shots to depict the city in which a film is set. For Chennai, it has always been a toss-up between Marina/Elliot’s Beach, Central Station, Anna Flyover, Spencer Plaza, and LIC Building.

While one could argue that the LIC Building established the “big city” vibe and that Spencer Plaza represented Chennai’s “modern and capitalist” aspects, the beach has always been used to represent love and life.

Remember the song, Enna Paarvai, Undhan Paarvai, from Kadhalikka Neramillai, a popular 60s film that many, swear to be the unmatched “evergreen romantic” comedy. The song showcases a young couple — Muthuraman and Kanchana — shaking a leg to a melodious song at the beach, unrecognisable with manicured lawns and the absence of cars. Similarly, in Mani Ratnam’s Alaipayudhey, staying true to the perception of the beach as a sanctuary for those in love, the lead-in to the song, Snehithane, shows the hero waiting for the heroine at the beach.

The iconic Ilaiyaraaja song Idhu Oru Pon Malai Pozhudhu from the film Nizhalgal showcases the beach as a place where college students go to smoke weed after bunking classes and build grandiose dreams about their future. 

Filmmaker Venkat Prabhu’s debut film, Chennai 600028, captured another aspect of the beach — its popularity as a space for playing sports, until the police began imposing restrictions. While the Gen Z crowd may not be aware, the black tar road on the beach used to be where hundreds of tennis ball cricket matches took place in the evenings, while the fiercely contested football and volleyball games happened on the beach sands. The final “match” with the school kids at the beach reflected its popularity as a space for playing sports, until the police began imposing restrictions.

Filmmaker Vetrimaaran’s Vada Chennai portrayed the lives of those who live near the coast and depend on the Kasimedu Fishing Harbour for their livelihood. While the film itself is about Chennai’s underworld, it focuses on the trials and tribulations of those living near the beach through various points in recent history. Not just the beach, but its people, their politics and economic conditions were the focus of the critically-acclaimed film.

In actor Sivakarthikeyan’s Marina, the beach becomes a place of refuge for those running away from home.

In a way, the Marina, the Elliots Beach, and the sandy beaches along the East Coast Road evoke different perceptions. While the Marina has maintained its position as the city’s major landmark for tourists, the Elliots’ Beach and those further down the East Coast Road have slowly transformed themselves to attract the hip and fashionable youngsters of Chennai.

With the city growing at a rapid pace, there may be more “landmarks” or cultural markers that the filmmakers will be interested in, but one thing is for sure, the beaches in Chennai will continue to fascinate the storytellers for many years to come.

Sudalaimadan Koil Street in Tirunelveli occupies a distinctive place in the landscape of modern Tamil literature. The street has been home to several literary figures, including Sahitya Akademi Award winners Thi. Ka. Sivasankaran, popularly known as Thikasi, and Vannadasan. Thikasi also served as the editor of Thamarai, the Communist Party of India’s literary magazine launched by P. Jeevanandham. The street was also a vibrant hub of the DMK — a rare confluence of literature and grass-roots politics. And, it is also associated with Kalapriya, a modern poet who has been shortlisted for the Sahitya Akademi Award for 2025.

“There was no money. During elections, we would get a cup of fruit sherbet in return for our work. Even tea was scarce. I remember the day when DMK candidate A.L. Subramaniam met us with 25 crisp one-rupee currency notes in 1967. But we refused to accept them,” recalls  Kalapriya.

The movie-going experience in the Madras of the early 1980s was largely centred around Mount Road. There were theatres in and around Poonamallee High Road too, and most new releases were watched on screens linked to these arterial roads.

Egmore, a thriving locality placed equidistant from these two veins of the city, did not have a theatre. And it all changed during the October of 1984 when the Albert complex was unveiled. Consisting of big-screen Albert and the smaller Baby Albert, the venue became a matter of pride for those living in the area, and they referred it to as namma (our) theatre.

A haven for moviegoers

Being new, the theatre had that contemporary vibe, and the technical aspects were smooth. Close to Egmore railway station, the hall was easy to access, thanks to suburban trains. College students using the Beach-Tambaram line could hop onto a train, get off at Egmore, grab a bite at Impala, and walk to Albert to catch the latest flick.

And for those catching long-distance trains and with time to kill, the theatre offered an air-conditioned refuge. A movie would be relished, and for the thirsty, the nearby watering holes on Kennet Lane came in handy. Later, overnight trains would be caught, or those private buses to southern Tamil Nadu.

Albert soon became this essential visiting spot for Rajinikanth fans. To catch a Rajini movie first day, first show at Albert was deemed a rite of growing up. Be it Thalapathy or Baasha, the theatre erupted as the superstar made his entry. Back then, this was his bastion, and the faithful kept rushing in.

Kamal Haasan-starrers usually did the rounds in the Devi and Sathyam complexes. However, there was a twist in the tale as Kamal’s iconic comedy caper Michael Madana Kama Rajan found its heart at Albert. The film was a blockbuster as the story of quadruplets, mistaken identities, and revenge, all laced with a humorous touch, struck a chord.

The classic turned 30 this October, and its dialogues are common knowledge for viewers of a certain vintage. Albert was not just about the tentpole films; the lesser ones with rooted humour like Aan Paavam, or classy, urbane outings like Minsara Kanavu, also found an audience.

Age did catch up with Albert while many of its rival complexes on Mount Road either shut down or opted to renovate and flourish. In the recent past, there have been days when Albert had no shows, but thankfully, it was not a permanent pause, and movies continue to be screened.

Old-time patrons do talk about the need to improve facilities while fervently hoping that their favourite theatre gains a second wind — just like how Egmore railway station did after shifting from metre-gauge to broad-gauge.