Even with your basic senses locked up in a freezer, ‘Mera Naam Shaji’ is a laborious watch, because it repeatedly questions reason in all possible ways it can. The best you can do then, is to just let things be, and wait for the tangle to unknot, and it takes a bit more than a couple of hours for that to happen.
‘Aanakkallan’ is a disappointment of colossal proportions that makes you want to reach out to Biju Menon and point out that he needs to take a breather. One long look at the kind of choices that he has made of late, and he should sense that it’s time for him to perhaps take it a bit slow, lest the crowd enthusiasm in his films drops down like a stone tossed from the top of a hill.
This warfare could have been tons more fun had ‘Padayottam’ a tighter story-line to fall back on. As it is, it strikes you as a series of intermittently amusing moments, loosely looped together by a plot fabric that severely lacks a strapping context.
‘Oraayiram Kinakkalal’ lives on material that has pretty much exhausted itself long back, and strikes you as a wasted opportunity more than anything else. The actors deserve better, and so does the audience, since these are dreams and plans gone awry in unimaginably slapdash ways.
The point that ‘Rosapoo’ is trying to get at, remains elusive throughout. The dull stretches are hardly smoothed out, and while trying to achieve too much, it settles for much less. Wrapped up in a glitter cover all around, ‘Rosapoo’ is a dreary box that springs up zero surprises on you when finally tugged open; a gauche comedy gawks at you from beneath the stylish production design.
The very evident intent is to craft a wild and crazy run, but the character development in ‘Lava Kusha’ renders it a routine endeavour. The fleeting moments of humour aren’t enough to retrieve this middling enterprise that makes you forget even the odd smiles that it generates by the end of its agonizingly extended running time.
‘Sherlock Toms’ is a daft film that is neither alluring nor even remotely interesting. Forget all the incoherence that underlies it, it’s a comedy that glumly fails to conjure up even some simple laughter that would render it memorable or worthwhile.
It’s quite easy to see how this material might have struck the makers as possible thriller fabric, and yet it is the writing that renders the tale flaccid. It hardly retains the intrigue that it cooks up after a while, and very languidly settles into a conservative groove, from where it shows no intention to rise up again.
Baiju is certainly someone we have known from close quarters; in fact he might even be you or me, and Kumbalam might easily be that tiny hamlet where we had learned to love, lose and live, and before we ourselves knew, had grown up, leaving behind a trail of evocative memories. Clever, enjoyable, witty and poignant by turns, ‘Rakshadhikari Baiju Oppu’ is an entertaining character drama with a subtle, pertinent note concealed within its folds.