IT TAKES A VILLAGE…
A beautifully narrated rustic romance hints that there’s still a place in the mainstream for languid storytelling.
JUL 11, 2010 – TODAY’S AUDIENCES HAVE NO PATIENCE, we are repeatedly instructed by filmmakers who chop their action choreography and music videos into a million fragments, and then go on to employ ramping effects and jump cuts with little sense for the mood of the moment. The reasoning is that lingering on an image for too long will result in ennui, ennui will result in catcalls, catcalls will result in bad word-of-mouth, and bad word-of mouth will result in diminishing returns. It sounds very lucid and logical, until you realise that if this were really the case, A Sarkunam’s Kalavani would have slunk out of theatres after a couple of shows attended only by the ticket punchers. What’s remarkable about this gutsy, talented, first-time director is that he trusts himself, which is at least as important as putting your faith in the fickle tastes of the audience.
Let me explain why. No one, in the movie business, knows anything. (If they did, and if there indeed were surefire formulas for success, wouldn’t every film balloon into a blockbuster?) You could make a bad film – compromised by excessive audience pandering – and it could turn into a hit. Or it could flop. Or you could make a film that you believe in, a good film, knowing that it could, again, succeed or fail – but at least you’ve got your calling card out there. At least people know, now, what kind of filmmaker you are, what you’re capable of. Sarkunam is the latter kind of filmmaker, the best kind, who doesn’t set out so much to pander to the audience as pleasure them. His film doesn’t feature bloody action choreography or cacophonous kuthu songs or sexual sops (save for a glancing glimpse in a moment I’ll come to later). Even his story, located in Mannargudi and looped around the romance of a boy and girl from warring villages, is nothing special.
What’s special, for the audience, is the director’s refusal to cut away from a scene until it’s found its rhythm and fulfilled its reason for being. Like a campfire raconteur who takes his time spinning a yarn, confident that he has clever reveals up his sleeve, Sarkunam structures long scenes with long stretches of dialogue that go against the grain of conventional movie-wisdom. These endlessly inventive sequences are his film’s greatest strength. Kalavani opens with a cricket competition for children, amongst teams bearing names like Bayamariya Thambigal. (The perfunctory translation would approximate to fearless lads, but that carries not a whiff of the insouciance of the original phrase.) As the colourful commentary gets going, with a bowler being described as “Arasanoorin McGrath” (namely, the McGrath of the village of Arasanoor), the stage seems set for a facsimile of Chennai 600028. But cricket, eventually, does not figure at all in the larger scheme of things.
Where it comes useful is in a cheeky sequence where the titular wastrel (Arikki, played by Vimal) and his equally profligate posse run through their neighbourhood, amassing funds for a match they say they intend to stage. There is, of course, no such event. The funds, instead, are funneled into a boozy evening, which erupts into a heated conversation which erupts into a kidnapping which erupts into a chase which erupts into a rift between Arikki and his girl Maheswari (Oviya). This is how Sarkunam spins his story, planting an innocuous seed and watching it sprout into a thicket of unrelated activity. Another terrific stretch unfurls at a local festival, and this time the seed is revenge. Arikki’s enemies know he’s going to be there, and you expect a visceral action segment to explode. But the action, when it finally does ensue, is a mere bookend to a sequence that’s otherwise another long stretch of unrelated activity (which allows for the mandatory Ilayaraja homage, with the prelude to Nila kaayudhu).
What a thrill it is to not be assaulted by breakneck editing rhythms executed under the pretext of narrative propulsion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being dangled from a car by the scruff of the neck and dragged through gravelly roads. The flow of sequences in Kalavani is languid, but not lifeless. You feel you’re sitting around the campfire, popping peanuts, as Sarkunam regales you under the light of a half-moon. Despite his love for our discursive oral traditions, Sarkunam has a flair for the smoothly cinematic as well, as in the purely visual sequence of Arikki shoving a protesting Maheswari into a running bus (and hauling her bicycle in to boot) in order to escape those on their tail. The men in pursuit hail from Maheswari’s village, and they want to get her married to someone else. Their efforts should have typically accrued into a violent meditation on yet another star-crossed romance, but a humorous undertow keeps things from becoming too serious.
It’s not just the comedy track (which Ganja Karuppu provides, as a villager constantly confounded in an uproarious running gag). Sarkunam has a delightfully subversive sense of humour, which announces itself at the most unexpected places, in the most unexpected ways. (I was reminded throughout of Bhagyaraj’s Thooral Ninnu Pochu, another slyly amusing village-set story of a love nearly thwarted by familial feuds.) He stages a song (Ooradangum saamathile) along the lines of the older film’s Yerikkarai poongaatrey, revolving around hero and heroine pining for each other, a one-time staple of romances now near-extinct due to the mantra that audiences for mainstream movies have no patience for anything in songs but frenzied choreography. Well, based on the growing word-of-mouth for Kalavani, they apparently still do. Give them a story populated with strongly felt relationships, vibrant vignettes laced with lots of comedy and lived-in atmosphere, and narrated in a fashion that respects their willingness to be swept along the director’s pace (the manner in which Arikki’s father discovers that his son is in love is another beautiful stretch of unrelated activity that’s capped with a mini-climax), and they will show up.
The resurgence of the rustic story has certainly revitalised Tamil cinema in recent years, but there was the slight weariness that too many of these tales were steeped in sorrow. You came off Kungumapoovum Konjumpuravum or Subramaniyapuram or Poo or Paruthi Veeran or Aval Peyar Thamizharasi or even Vennila Kabaddi Kuzhu (despite its abundant humour) as if emerging from the underworld, filled with souls writhing in endless torment. It was a relief to walk out of the theatre and note that the sun was still shining. Kalavani, on the other hand, envelops you with joy. As for that borderline sexual moment I said I’d come around to, the heroine, while tiptoeing past her sleeping parents at night, brushes against her mother’s feet. Still deep in slumber, the mother rebukes the father to hold back his amorous advances. You laugh heartily at the misunderstanding, but in the background is a sense of the relationship between two people who barely matter to the story. That’s the sign of a good storyteller.
Copyright ©2010 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Karthi
July 10, 2010
This film made me miss my native thanjavur..
Its like why i m here?
what would i do in sunday evening in my native?
i wouldnt be sitting in a computer !
i would be in a taxi stand with my friends the film shows so typical of a thanjavur town.. or in tea shop..or aathu palam..
or a cricket match in those lush green fields ..
But sure wouldnt think a moment wat to do next like i m now..
its a personal film for me..
use of thanjavur slang is refreshing..
i thought you wouldnt review this film as this film released lot earlier!
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Kiruba
July 10, 2010
Really nice write-up for a cute little film. It didn’t seem far to me when ‘realistic’ rustic films would become a much-abhorred genre in Tamil cinema, but Kalavaani comes as a whiff of fresh air to offer relief and hope.
Just returned home after watching it and I’m still all smiles. (Some of the most endearing moments, I thought came as the credits started rolling). A light-hearted and confident narration has transformed the plot that had all the possibilities to end as gory and gloomy as the recent crop of rural films, into a heart-warming one. As you’ve pointed, I liked it that despite an overall comic effect, characters and sequences managed to stay real and rooted.
And, what a response from the crowd!!
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rameshram
July 10, 2010
Brannigan,
Is it time to define a new genre called the “b center verite ” or the “rettai jadai ribbon verite” or something (subramaniapuram, nadodigal, paruthiveeran,kadhal,(maybe) this one..etc) ?
😀
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aravind
July 10, 2010
Just back from the film, nice write up!
>>TODAY’S AUDIENCES HAVE NO PATIENCE>>
True and it was amusing to see the crowd standing still to catch the scenes played when the credits started rolling.
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aravind
July 10, 2010
>>mandatory Ilayaraja homage>>
🙂 I used to think that someone would use kOttaiya vittu veettukku pOgum sodalai mada saami and it happened in this film.
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Just Another Film Buff
July 10, 2010
Despite the frustrating feeling of seeing village/town based stories, this new found “genre” seems to have done one good thing – to give new directors, most from the hinterlands, a confidence to tell their own stories from their own lives. It seems to have opened up cinema as a medium of personal expression (within the genre of course). That’s really good. But I think it’s also good to let all these directors make a second (or a third) film. We can then know where real talent lies.
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bran1gan
July 11, 2010
Karthi: It’s just a couple of weeks old, no? BTW, “i wouldnt be sitting in a computer” Ippallaam thanjavur-layum idhaan pannraanga-nu kelvi 😉
Kiruba: Yeah, especially this year’s ‘realistic’ rustic films were so bad — seen Aval Peyar Thamizharasi? That’s such a false film.
aravind: Chinna Thayee had another superb song, Naan yerikkarai melinrundu… BTW, I’d never seen the picturisation of Kottaya vittu before this, and I’m glad it was only on a small TV set 🙂
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E Pradeep
July 11, 2010
Agree with the rant against fast cuts and editing that leaves you wandering why we are being dragged into scenes without being ready. I remember feeling the same way watching Alaipayuthey; many liked it but I found Mani in a tearing hurry to give us a few scenes and unwilling to give the protagonists time to reflect on their lives.
As a Malayalee who has traditionally looked down upon Tamil cinema, it is time for me to embrace a bit of Tamil filmdom too; the last couple of years have seen interesting stuff..As Malayalam cinema flounders and drifts into mediocrity, maybe it is time for the rest of the South to take over the leadership of meaningful cinema.
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rameshram
July 11, 2010
the best use of the naan erikkarai song as tribute was in Sangamam (an ARR film!) where vadivelu belted out the second paragraph … fully…pretty randomly. considering sangamam was touted as a msv-arr “sangamam” it wwas pretty cheeky of him to ‘tribute” ilayaraja there.
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Karthi
July 11, 2010
Unmai than.! angayum computer irundhuchu… ana vera vali illa inga..
” your thoughts about this film almost match with mine..see my comments on the film in my blog ” intha maathiri suya puranamellam pathukitu iruka vaendiyirukku!!
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maruramu
July 11, 2010
BR,
Off-the-topic, reading through this write-up and you bringing K. Bhagyaraj (another KB) in, reminded me of my favorite screenplay writer who no less than ManiRathnam had mentioned sometime back as “THE BEST SCREENPLAY WRITER” in India, did you ever write a piece on him. I don’t remember reading much on him by you (if ever you did), as I’ve been larking long enough to remember. I would love to read a piece/opinion on my favorite Bhagyaraj. Would you do that for me? Thanks…
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bran1gan
July 11, 2010
E Pradeep” “As a Malayalee who has traditionally looked down upon Tamil cinema…” Uh, it’s a “tradition”? 🙂
maruramu: I don’t think I’ve written on him, though I’d discount all the “India’s best” hype. For instance, I find Mahendran a far better screenplay writer. But where Bhagyaraj really scores (at least in the early films, which I’m a big fan of; by the time Pavunu Pavunuthan and Idhu Namma Aalu came along, he was repeating himself endlessly) is in his sly sense of humour. He not only knew how to write a great one-liner, he also knew where to postition it for maximum effect. I’ll probably put in more thoughts in a bitty post.
Till then, enjoy this wickedly funny spoof on Mani Ratnam 🙂 Koval, indeed! This chap’s column comes in the neighbourhood tabloid (Adyar Talk), but I didn’t know he had a blog too.
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Venkatesh
July 11, 2010
BR: “is in his sly sense of humour” – Spot on – that very typically Tamil sense of humour is just missing in today’s cinema.
RameshRam: “rettai jadai ribbon verite” – oh its been coming for a long time, Veyil onwards i think and truth be told i prefer that to the other verites, if for nothing else than the obligatory Illayaraja reference.
Haven’t seen Kalavani but from what i hear the director reminds me of the early M Night Shyamalan – the stillness and the courage/patience to let the audience make up their own mind. Am i the only one who actually went and saw “Chinna Thayee” in the theatres ? Don;t remember a thing about the movie except for those two brilliant songs.
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maruramu
July 11, 2010
Funny indeed and how sad he he’s been reduced to this…pity….and it seems he is taking a dig at you there…..
Reg. Bhagyaraj, yes I too am a big of fan of his earlier films, but not so the later ones as you rightly pointed out and I am really looking forward to your BR on that and then maybe we can talk about it elaborately in that post.
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vidyut
July 11, 2010
“Funny indeed and how sad he he’s been reduced to this…pity….and it seems he is taking a dig at you there….”
A funny guy can skewer just about anything or anyone, anytime … no sacred cows. Though not always funny, “Lollu Sabha” for e.g., routinely skewers just about every Tamil movie and actor out there … including Nayagan. What is different here is that a serious narrative might also be taking hold about Mani’s movie-making that this guy has simply latched onto in the piece.
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Niranjan
July 11, 2010
Hi BR,
Have you been able to catch last year’s academy award winner for foreign language film – The Secret in their Eyes, ‘El secreto de sus ojos” yet? I heard the movie was terrific.
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rameshram
July 11, 2010
I shall never forgive bhagyaraj for taking poornima jayaram away from us forever. same with parthiban/seetha(and I doubly hold a grudge against parthiban for taking seetha away from pandiyarajan. )
but between poornima and rathi, it’s a wash for bhagyaraj… who will probably be a good drinking companion, but as a director…he’s the OBC/vanniar K balachander…or rather , K Balachander is a Caste hindu version of Bhagyaraj. 😀
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rameshram
July 11, 2010
See , tamil film is like this HUUUGE parthasarathy kovil.(triplicane) They have built big walls with naamams all around, and they have the power to put up a rocking shaking show elephants,deities and kodais and all, during tiruvizzas, but the merchants around the temple, who have grown waay more powerful than the priests or the trustees inside, won’t allow a show to happen unless there are enough crowds to fill their shops.
Neither side knows how to do the work of the other,so its a standoff, and every house in triplicane, these days has satellite television where people can see anything from non stop reruns of the suprabatham from tirupathi to megan fox doing soft porn in transformers.
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Padawan
July 11, 2010
Baradwaj: The spoof. Brilliant. Absolutely Brilliant.
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K Balakumar
July 12, 2010
Thanks for putting up a link to my column in your space, Rangan.
This particular spoof piece has been eye-opener for me. Now I really understand what is key to good humour. Yes, famous personalities. They get you the laughs. Even a rough translation of Thirukural or Thirupavai, it seems, can be peddled as humour stuff, as long as a Mani Ratnam or an A R Rahman is threaded into the equation (In the case of TR, his mere mug shot will do). They work unfailingly as comic props. At least they have for me.
Levity aside, I’m really surprised by the kind of extreme emotions that Mani Ratnam seems to trigger amongst most of us. Ravanan, in particular,has. Of course, Rangan, you addressed this point directly in your BR column a couple of weeks ago.
For me, Ravanan is not Mani’s best work. But not his worst, too. Ravanan (I’ve not seen Ravan) indeed had its moments, and I didn’t walk out of the theatre a disappointed man.
So why did I spoof him,’wickedly’ at that? For me, it wasn’t so much a case of he being spoof-worthy as much as he and his movie style lending themselves to facile caricatures. Mani has a patented pattern to his work, and this provides an easy, identifiable matrix for a burlesque piece to be built on. Honestly, Mani may be paying a price here for his strength. Such is life. And such is the crassness of humour writers, too. They need targets. After all, a joke, by definition, has to be ‘on’ someone, nah? In this case, rather this week, it happened to be Mani.
Anyway, I felt that some of the critics were unduly harsh in their tone (I wouldn’t have minded if it were channeled just against the film per se). It’s this feeling that impelled me to make a reference to this band of trigger-happy critics in my piece.
Attn Maruramu: Yes, there was a reference to critics seeing ‘things’ that don’t seem to exist in the film. What made you to think that was a ‘dig’ at Rangan? I don’t know whether Rangan felt that was an unkind cut aimed at him. Anyway, a humour column, in general, isn’t a reflection of the moral world of its author. A humour column is a skewed place with no particular reality, except the one aimed at eliciting laughs. Yes, humour writers are desperate people, and will possibly peddle blasphemy and still expect you to smile in return.
At any rate, whether the jab was intended at him or not, as far I can figure out Rangan is confident enough of his own art and craft to let a stray, arcane line in a humour write-up to bother him. So Maruramu (BTW, that’s an interesting name/identity, any particular story behind it?) don’t overanalyse, leave that to Rangan. He is way better at it 🙂
But honestly, I’m not against overanalysis and insights as long as they are honest and interestingly conveyed (In Rangan’s case they are).
Rangan, sorry for taking so much space in your fief. Just felt like saying these things and clarifying my position. Not that any one was interested; but I had two good reasons:
1) I had nothing better to do
2) Your blog has way more readers than mine.
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Ramya
July 12, 2010
Rangan, this is such a well-written piece. I can actually imagine the kind of movie you are talking about, and it makes me want to go to the theatre and watch it right now…though its probably not playing in Bangalore, i will definitely not find company for watching it, and i wouldn’t understand quite a bit (if not most) of it
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jaiganesh
July 12, 2010
chinna thaayee had vinu chakravarthy, radha ravi and napolean at their best while sabeetha anand essayed her usual teary eyed mother portion with ease. Vignesh was out of sorts and Raaja mesmerized.
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bran1gan
July 12, 2010
Venkatesh: Shyamalan isn’t an appropriate comparison. The rhythms of this film are definitely in tune with commercial-film requirements, but without the herky-jerky cuts.
Niranjan: I did a Part of the Picture on it.
K Balakumar: As vidyut says, there are no sacred cows when it comes to humour. In fact, one of the signs that someone has arrived is the fact that he/she gets woven into a larger pop-culture narrative. So there’s really no need to clarify your position. But thanks, though.
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Deepak
July 12, 2010
I had a feeling of dread throughout the movie. I thought
a) they were gonna cut him into little pieces and oorga pottufy him
or
b) rape the girl
or
c) on the day of their wedding he was going to trip on a rock and break his neck…and die.
Glad it had a happy ending…but i found myself rooting more for the girl’s brother. Arikki came off as a complete jackass 🙂
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Venkatesh
July 12, 2010
RameshRam: “but as a director…he’s the OBC/vanniar K balachander…or rather , K Balachander is a Caste hindu version of Bhagyaraj” – Why does everything boil down to caste for you ?
“Venkatesh: Shyamalan isn’t an appropriate comparison. ” – Ah ok , must see the film then but whenever someone talks about stillness , i remember the late great Mr.Shyamalan.
“Late you ask” – well here is my justification – http://twitpic.com/23ow32
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rameshram
July 12, 2010
‘The rhythms of this film are definitely in tune with commercial-film requirements, but without the herky-jerky cuts.’
that seems to be one of the requirements of a rettai jedai ribbon verite film. The authentic detail of the film must reflect an international cinematografie/camera viewpoint and the throb of the film’s heart and its screenplay must reflect completely identifiable tamil cinema grammar. so its accessible to both someone in (say) ranipet and someone in a software park in taramani who watches vonly multiplex,
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maruramu
July 12, 2010
Attn. K. Balakumar,
Thanks for taking your time to explain things…by the way am I missing something here and where did I overanalyse in my two-sentence poster about your post and I said that enjoyed the piece and just a tongue-in-cheek comment ref. Rangan… now where is your sense of humor??? and reg. my name, don’t overanalyse and leave it at that….thanks….
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rameshram
July 12, 2010
“Why does everything boil down to caste for you ? ”
it mostly boils down to sex for me. when it comes to the world tamil cinema operates in, it mostly boils down to sub caste….so no nothing boils down to caste.
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K Balakumar
July 12, 2010
Attn Maruramu: Last checked my sense of humour was with me only. Why, you want some?
Ok, I may have ‘overanlaysed’ on your one-line observation, so you’re entitled to have a go at me. Fair enough. But I don’t think I was caustic in any way to come across as somebody who has lost his sense of humour.
With regard to your name, I was plain curious, man. Maruramu, with the built-in anagram, intrigues and interests me. Nothing more to it. And no offence meant. Thanks.
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Kiruba
July 12, 2010
bran1gan: No,didn’t watch APT, although I had some expectations after JMo wrote abt its director in his blog and it got selected for some international film festival even while in production. But then, couldn’t stand the few clips shown on TV and decided against it.
Remember watching Chinnathayee on a thiruttu video years back. Nothing has stayed except the songs, although I vaguely suspect it may have had an unusual theme. it also has the PS lullaby ‘Arumbarumba saram thodutha’ and a borderline steamy ‘Naan Ippodhum Eppodhum’
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apala
July 12, 2010
Dear BR,
Kalavani is still not released here I think………I heard only good things about it so far (from friends and on the net)……will definitely check out once it is released.
About K Bhagyaraj – you are bang on! I don’t think of him as the best scriptwriter – but he was pretty smart with his sly humor in his earlier films but then came movies like vEttiya madichchu kattu (which, ironically he forgot to do, running himself into financial trouble!!!) and all the movies as mentioned by you and others….he totally lost it! But one thing that I still remember is his answer to a question about the difference between story and screenplay. He said: “Ramasamy’s wife was kidnapped by Kuppusamy and Ramasamy fought him to free his wife” is the story. Making it an interesting 3 hour viewing as Samboorna Ramayanam is the screenplay!
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Venkatesh
July 13, 2010
RAmeshRam : “it mostly boils down to sub caste….so no nothing boils down to caste.” – sammae rod pa nee..
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thanjavoorkaaran
July 13, 2010
Can anyone tell me where u seen this film in U.S?… i am from thanjavur too…
@karthi: correct a sonninga….intha oorae waste……
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MumbaiRamki
July 13, 2010
i think you could have stopped with the first four lines in the review and said ‘ yeah ,i liked the film’. For me , i read those repeatedly !! ( of course , i read this full)
Is abundance of entertainment itself shaping the anatomy of it ? I really don’t know . In the end , film has to engage , either during the marketing hype or during the viewing experience for it to succeeed 🙂
( Miss the 90s ananda vikatan days , when entertainment was pre-internet, post – DD – when i used to read that magazine twice and enjoy certain lines by repeated visits to it … MISS MISS MISS them !!)
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SS
July 14, 2010
Really nice article… makes me want to watch the movie tho I dont understand the language.
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Abhishek
July 15, 2010
A great review about a really good movie.A must watch.
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Venkatesh
August 9, 2010
I just watched the movie – what an absolute joy.
Nothing earth-shaking, doesn’t take itself too seriously just a good way to pass a pleasant 2.5 hours. Sometimes thats enough.
I liked a really lovely scene , Hero and heroine running away in the car , hero asks girl what if i was not there what would you have done – she says , “na nijama ve sethirpen” , hero – “tchi loosu” smiling, you know they are going to be fine.
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