On the way back from the multiplex, I spent a considerable length of time trying to figure out what to put in my review of Kuruvi. I came up with nothing. I could claim that the movie was beyond even my capacity to describe it, but that would be dishonest. Truth: I just ran out of nasty. I’ve already used whatever creative insults I could come up with, in my earlier reviews of movies I didn’t like.
So, instead of actually reviewing the movie, I’m just going to list the various attempts I made and discarded.
Attempt #1: Rant by Letter
Whatever you’re smoking, it can kill you.
If it doesn’t, I will.
Wake the f*** up and start making some good masala again.
Attempt #2: Rant by Review Reference
National Treasure is so silly that the Monty Python version could use the same screenplay, line for line.
— Excerpt from Roger Ebert’s review
Now, replace the words National Treasure with Kuruvi and the words Monty Python with the words Lollu Sabha. Read the sentence again with the replaced words.
End of review.
Attempt #3: Rant by Literary Reference
Kuruvi is what happens when someone watches Waiting for Godot and decides to make an action film adaptation.
My suggestion to you, dear reader, is that you watch or read the Samuel Beckett play and rent a DVD of Gilli or Dhool afterwards. That way, I can keep this review really short, and you can thank me for some good recos. Good night, and good luck.
Attempt #4: Just Rant
One third of the way through Kuruvi, I realized that it was futile to hope that this was a Locomotive 38 movie. There was really no explanation other than that the makers were crazy. They were deadly serious about this plot and the way it was handled, I realized. They actually thought this was a good movie.
The plot involves an illegal diamond mine in Cudappah (“Blood diamond,” the villain proudly declaims at one point, maybe to claim coolness by association) where a number of workers, including the hero’s father, are kept enslaved. How he liberates them forms the story. How he moves from one fight to another while looking perpetually pissed forms the screenplay. How Trisha manages to keep the same moony expression throughout the movie forms the romantic sub-plot. How I managed to tolerate all of this without actually barfing forms my review.
Do I really need to go on?
ps: Okay, so I didn’t quite run out of nasty just yet. But one more Vijay movie like this and I’ll probably hang up my boots.
pps: Oh, and here’s a brilliant rant by Baradwaj Rangan on the movie.