This had to be done... There aren't enough cynics around

Jilla- Review

                And another movie post- sorry about that folks... While the original intention after getting home was to catch both the fans declared blockbusters of the century/ worst flop of the millennium-depending on which side you are on, I had to settle with just Jilla. As you would expect, the movie has as much logic as there was when the parties representing the ideologies of religious minorities attended the “Secular Political Meet” organized a few weeks ago.

                Halfway into the movie, I was convinced I was watching a remake of Thalaiva, we had the Godfather, the ditzy heir, the miscast hottie as a cop (the worst incidence of miscasting since Grand Ol’ Party made a certain Yuvraj the ace of its election campaign and returned with figures worse than Ishant Sharma against... well... just about anyone)... But there is a twist. Hoping to replicate the Pokkiri magic, the director has Vijay don the kahaki dress (and for the love of God spare a few more centimeteres and make it comfy wear... Kajal we can accept, but for anyone else... it’s a blasphemy).

                Here’s what happens... We have an egomaniacal suicide inducer whose driver gets killed (by a cop) and the latter’s son saves the former’s unborn kid and ipso facto becomes the first kid for our don. The duo assisted by 591 henchmen rule Madurai (Enga oora summa vidungapa) and the kid hates cops. After 35 years, our don encounters a sincere cop and has a brainwave- we need a cop on our side, which does seem a tad late. So the kid becomes a cop quicker than Sunny drops her... Long story short, the view from the other side makes the kid finally realize that being bad is...er... bad. SO he decides to reform his ‘dad’.

                Post Interval the story breaks your faith in the actor again. Unwanted and unnecessary juxtaposition of comedy makes the proceedings as interesting as watching cows eat grass and then... (I am not implying that this movie is worse than...) After a series of really long, boring unfortunate events, all ends well, except the don loses his actual son but is still happy to do the slo mo walk to a really loud BGM), There are some romantic interludes as romantic as Fifty shades of Grey (No- not a good thing).

                For some reason, each one of Mohan Lal’s appearance is greeted by bleating elephants (I know it is wrong...) and he keeps mouthing lines similar to the villain in Vettaikaran (Sivanum naanum onnu-Sakthiyum Bakthiyum onnu)... Even his majestc presence cannot save the worst caricature of a don in recent times... All he does is spout silly one liner after another and sit in that old raggedy chair. Rightfully, the credits start with his name. Vijay for the 927642852649th time reprise the role of... who gives a damn anyway... Watching a talented actor do this to himself is as painful as watching the movie itself.

                Kajal, well the role suits her less than it did for Amala Paul and that tells something. She looks pretty, sexually harasses our hero (feminism on the rise, perhaps?) and gets lost in the film with so little in terms of quality. The plot is predictable and the twists as nonexistent as humour in Suri’s antics. Although the three hours were yet another testament to the faith in certain quarters that they can pass off poor quality stuff to the gullible fans and hope to reap profits. Really wonder if men learn from their mistakes... If not before, here is one for all to learn from.

                Jilla- Basically, run.


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