Pramukhan
It might sound pretty improbable that with all these fisticuffs on in full swing, the film barely manages to keep us awake. But I did manage a quick nap as God-knows-who took a severe pounding from God-knows-who-else.
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Bhramaram
Bhramaram is more of a sticky assemblage of hysterical high-points than a touching, emotional indictment on the profound sense of loss.
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Malayali
As the camera cuts down to one long view of Madhavan being welcomed back home, by those errant prodigal siblings in the very last frame, I could hear Valyettan, Balettan and all other Ettans joining their hands together in bliss. There goes another one; now that's our boy, they say.
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Doctor-Patient
They tell me that sanity is relative. You never know for sure, if what you believe to be rational is indeed reasonable or just the opposite. Whatever be the case, I have to presume that I remain at the moment as sane as one could possibly be, and proclaim this nitwit of a film as an insult to lunacy.
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Vilaapangalkkappauram
A bleeding Sahira staggers along the hustle-bustle of a busy street, with the traffic beside her moving along, unaware and perhaps undaunted by her plight. A remarkable scene that conveys a deafeningly silent lament that flows out of her dazed lips, this is the best moment in the film that attempts to bring out the brutality that's resident in man.
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Paribhavam
This is what they call throwaway cinema, to be flushed clean from the mind as soon you get over it and thrown into not-to-be-reused cans straight away.
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Ivar Vivahitharayal
'Ivar Vivahitharayal' beats a dead horse for a good three hours, and appears rather dull despite all the happenings in it all the while. A knock-off on several triumphant marriage capers that have preceded it, it boasts neither of their sparkle nor shine.
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Kancheepurathe Kalyanam
This is a rare script - incoherent, undeveloped, poorly conceived and naturally unpromising on almost every level. It's literally impossible to sit through the shenanigans that are clumsily executed to imperfection.
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Vellathooval
Sometimes it so happens that precise, smart dialogue makes up for a primarily inconsistent script, and sometimes well-paced direction covers up an absence of the first two. And on rare occasions as these, all three go crashing down the hill side, throwing brakes and brains to the winds.
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Calendar
Mahesh's film reminds you of one of those old time calendars in red and black that told you the day of the year. Stuck up on the wall, it lies inert for ages until a breeze happens to come by. And then it flutters a bit, and turns still all again.
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Bhagavan
With demigods as these raising the roof, I intend to gladly remain an atheist all my life. Come heaven or hell.
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Black Dalia
With all the screams and shrieks in tact, with all the frights and fights in place, did I hear someone murmur contrived and gimmicky? Well perhaps, and with a bit sharper writing, it wouldn't have been alternately peppery and prosaic as it is.
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