| AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA |
(Pachaikili Muthucharam)
How would you describe a Sachin Tendulkar knock of 60-plus, all edges, hanging grimly on borrowed time? You get the same feel watching the mini disaster maiden production venture of Gautham Menon. Getting inspired by a novel is fine (Jack Spiegel's Derailed) but Menon loses way in the fashion of a middle distance runner losing count of the laps.
In an interesting storyline, there are the turns seldom seen in Indian cinema. You have to hand it to Menon for the smart star cast. In the choice of Milind Soman and Andrea, Menon is able to keep the viewers guessing. A known face may well have spilled the beans, when the script takes a U-turn.
All is fine in the life of a medical representative (Sarath Kumar), whose world is his Kalyani (Andrea) and the only issue of a son afflicted by juvenile diabetes. He throws no more than an admiring glance at the doe-eyed Geetha (Jyothika) in a suburban train.
Rolling her eyes all over the place the gir has the man in her custody.
She has a bad marriage and a tale to carry it deep into the man's heart. Men being men, fall for the bait. Revealing anything beyond this will take away whatever little interest left.
It's comedy time when a bunch of masked men (covered in black, head to toe) emerge out of nowhere to escort Sarath and Jothika in a song. Is this a counter to Bharathi Rajaa's penchant for the white, you wonder.
The silver linings are the camera work of Aravind Krishna and the sensuous effect of Harris Jayaraj's offering. The effect of dialogues getting lost in the re-recording is an ear-sore.
In life as in movies, sometimes even the best of efforts come a cropper. Menon must have realised it the hard way, losing steam before the half-way mark. It is a self-afflicted predicament, caught in a no man's land.
At the end of it, you could do more than laud at a brave attempt in taking Tamil cinema to a different horizon. Nothing more than that.
What a waste of a green title?