(1.5 / 5) : Poor
Karungali seems to have the intentions of a drama but has accidentally turned out to be a dark comedy. Depending on how you perceive Karungali, remove or add a star to the rating. As a drama, it's a piece of crap. As a dark comedy, it is so strangely vulgar it's uproarious.
Rohit Ramachandran Sat, 30 Jul 2011
Every once in a while you're told a boring anecdote that might not be worth the wait. You wish the narrator would just skip to the best part. That's the case with the character development of Karungali. With such apathetic characters, we don't need to see where they come from. Forty-five minutes are wasted before you get to the heat of it all- a sexual thriller.
Filmmaker Kalanjiyam wrote a screenplay envisaging his sexual fantasies with a submissive woman. Then he thought, " What if I can do it in front of a camera? Nice, let's make a movie out of it." Now he realizes, "Oh damn', a film needs music numbers, fight scenes, back-stories for characters and a satisfactory ending." As eager as he is with getting to action in front of the camera, he heedlessly finishes the rest of the screenplay. It's apparent that the amount of effort that went into building sexual tension and thrill was taken away from characterization, character development and the gravity of the issue conveyed. The film (along with the before and after of the plot) is not a sexual thriller; it is either a drama or a dark comedy. I can't say. It seems to have the intentions of a drama but has accidentally turned out to be a dark comedy. Depending on how you perceive it, remove or add a star to the rating. As a drama, it's a piece of crap. As a dark comedy, it is so strangely vulgar it's uproarious. A frottage scene has earned Karungali an 'A' rating.
A couple, consisting of a self-professed barren woman and a man in doubt of his manhood, is unable to conceive a child. She goes to an infertility centre seeking help. The doctor tells her that progress can be made only if her husband chooses to be a part of it. The doctor's life gets entwined with her patient's once her hypersexual husband (who's even done it with a dead being) wants to sleep with the patient. He tells the ignorant woman that she's his new 'assignment' and that the 'tablet' to her impotency lies in between his legs. Dubious of the legitimacy of the practice, she remains evasive. As sincere as our tablet man is with his intent to treat her, he shows up repeatedly trying to plant his seed in her. Been asked to choose between dimwits and a scheming villain, you can't help rooting for the latter.
This entire thing is quite a joke, why play the violin screech from Hitchcock's Psycho? And John Carpenter's Halloween theme? There's nothing even mildly scary here. With regard to the performances, Anjali seems more than satisfied with just weeping profusely while Srinivas screams out believing he's responsible for it. Kalanjiyam, though, is a riot in his 'tablet' avatar.
Critic: Rohit Ramachandran
(1.5 / 5) : Poor