Red Chillies Malayalam Movie
The Red Chillies score a perfect naught when it comes to spice, savor and scent. Soaked and dried, and then roasted and salted, these veggies sport plenty of bark and little bite.
The Chilly girls are RJs by day and clubbies by night, and roam around Cochin like they have dropped out of Mars. On New Year 's Eve, in a drunken stupor, they return home to find a gigolo murdered in their hangout. When a car that runs over a host of activists, in a nearby makeshift shack the very same night is found to be that of the jockeys, OMR (Mohanlal) their knight in shining armor decides to fly in from Singapore to gauge the state of affairs once and for all.
As fascinating as it may sound, Red Chillies spends half its time making its lead actor walk up and down the aisles, getting in and out of cars and stroll hither and thither in real slow motion. Not startling at all, since that's all there is to this movie that never even makes a respectable start.
I am relieved that they didn't think of the acronym during the Narasimham days. I mean OMR as a contraction of the catchphrase in Red Chillies, Onnum Marakkilla Rama, sounds bearable but I'm sure NPMD wouldn't have passed off as smoothly for the protagonist's name in the yesteryear blockbuster.
There are plenty of universal truths out there that we need to be updated on. There are a couple of real downer jewels at least that would have you leaping for cover in sheer discomfiture. Like when someone proclaims that these days the internet is invariably associated with the chastity of women. Or when someone else asserts that there is a detrimental virus that causes cancer. Do not be surprised if you hear Sigmund Freud knocking on the grave as well.
The onscreen advertising has to be seen to be believed. There's plenty of flying around on Silkair. When he's not browsing Mathrubhumi.com, OMR is all ears for Club FM 94.3, that promises tons of fun. Vodafone seems to be the official mobile service in town, and perhaps it's just a coincidence that a Pug joins the investigation. And when a manslaughter case is named after the killing vehicle Prado, we pretty much get to see how things stand.
The happenings all around are best left unnoticed. And most of the dialogues unheard. But when you hear something as absurd as 'Open your mouth or I'll stop your heartbeat', you do pay heed. You then realize that OMR, the man with the cheer ladies in tow, seems to have got himself into something dreadfully wrong.
The demigod is worshipped in puja rooms and revered by scores of subjects. He holds chat sessions with the Police Commissioner and hastily exchanges roles with the officer. The hunter becomes the hunted. And hands over a blank visiting card as the credits roll up on screen. Who is OMR? Someone anxiously asks. Who cares was an agitated reply.
The camera swings and sways as wildly as it could and jerks the living daylights out of you. Shots are ruthlessly slashed and joined and cuts are nothing short of abundant. A visual montage that serves no purpose or point, the Red Chillies comes up short on just about everything.
There must have been a numerological suggestion that prompted the Chillies to be mutilated into an awkwardly spelt Chellis on the titles. It doesn't really matter since irrespective of how the word is spelt; a divine intervention is what the film badly needs to keep it afloat on the box-office.
OTHER REVIEWS
MOVIE REVIEWS