It goes without saying that it’s a miracle that the film makers believed that a theme as this could work wonders in 2019. And it’s even a greater marvel that they got several sensible heads to give a nod to this project that could have probably made a ripple a good fifteen or twenty years back.
‘Porinchu Mariam Jose’ does not have specific points where it starts losing its way. Rather the antique tale that it narrates usurps both the aspirations of its maker and the efforts of its terrific cast, rendering it a stylized cinematic piece that is bracing to look at, but which sounds obsolete to the core.
Dinjith Ayyathan’s ‘O.P.160/18 Kakshi Amminipilla’ has a few pitfalls without doubt, but is also a film that would be discussed for the very valid theme that it purports. There is a charm to the old school style of film making that he so assertively flaunts, and an appeal in his confidence to bank on substance over style.
‘And the Oscar goes to’ does not rise to the stature of Salim Ahmed’s former films, and while it would be unjust to indulge in a comparison as such, it is also inevitable. While it does suggest that there is nothing more magical than what could be conveyed by the medium of cinema, it delivers the said magic, but only in very brief spurts.
Mass, double mass, and triple mass; all said and done, the final scene of ‘Madhura Raja’ is all suggestive – that ‘Minister Raja’ will follow. So much has happened and the next time, I tell an exhausted self – you should probably think of taking down notes.
Thattumpurath Achuthan’ looks way out of place and period as the planet gets all ready to spin its way into 2019, and leaves you unfulfilled and peculiarly droopy.
The well worn plot and the familiar characters in the film are impossible to root for. Sreekrishnan’s ‘Paviettante Madhurachooral’ strives to drive out the angst of its leads on to its viewers, but hardly scores.
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.
Dijo Jose Antony’s ‘Queen’ is a flamboyant celebration of the campus, with all the colours, vigour and liveliness intact. However, beneath all this panache and flair lurks a theme that constantly shifts tone, that is imbalanced in tenor, and which carries a faint sense of familiarity all through.
‘Aana Alaralodalaral’ tries to make the best of what it has, but the sad thing is it doesn’t have much, and the little it has, has an outmoded air to it. The ultimate result of this trumpet that lasts for a couple of hours but which seems and sounds much longer, is nothing but mediocrity, and that too, stacks of it.
It could only be a real zany mind that would have the nerve to start off his film the way Dominic Arun does, that within minutes has the audience dropping their jaws – either in amazement or in morbid fear of what’s in store for the next couple of hours. The effect is pretty much similar to what Terry Zwigoff accomplishes with ‘Bad Santa’, where he adeptly replaces the chubby, soft footed, white bearded old man that we have long been accustomed to, with a drunken, bad-ass, swearing champ, Billy Bob Thornton.