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Dr. Love

August 27, 2016 04:01 pm | Updated 04:01 pm IST

Enakku Veru Engum Kilaigal Illai

For a film titled Goundamaniyin Enakku Veru Engum Kilaigal Kidaiyathu , it’s really strange to see how little the makers have utilised the veteran actor (he’s 77). When Goundamani is all the film has going for it, why did the makers choose to look elsewhere? When you’ve got just one trick up your sleeve, why wouldn’t you use it?

It begins well enough when we’re introduced to Caravan Krishnan (Goundamani),the man credited with making Kollywood’s first vanity van. His proximity to the Tamil film industry allows Krishnan to let loose a few seriously funny wisecracks about the industry. Commenting on the growing number of horror films, week after week, he jokes about how he has started renting out caravans to ghosts. He pokes fun at film titles and wonders why a film is named Vellaiya Irukiravan Poi Solla Maatan. An aide tells him early on about how Kollywood has changed. His example? S. J. Suryah has become a music director and G.V. Prakash is now an actor.

A rationalist and a fan of Periyar, he’s a messiah who unites lovers. So, when a production controller calls him asking for a caravan for the shoot of

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Singham 3 , Krishnan asks if there’s a love story in it. When the answer is in the negative, he increases his rates.

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He claims to be friends with both Narayana Murthy and Mark Zuckerberg, chooses to voice his opinions, and takes to Facebook and Twitter. So when he puts up a post criticising Hansika Motwani, Kajal Aggarwal, and Lakshmi Menon for using their caste names, he starts losing business. Despite the film’s amateurish presentation and tacky production values, the master comedian stills holds interest with his irreverent wit. But what do you do when he’s almost entirely removed from the film? It becomes tiresome when a couple (which could be the 51st such he’s uniting), approaches him for support after being chased by the girl’s father. From the film’s spoof-like indulgences, it shifts gears to repeat Tamil cinema’s most repeated love track—a rebel falling for a politician’s daughter. Both the boy and the girl get elaborate flashbacks that drain the film of its comic energy. The resolution of this issue too is silly. All Krishnan does to save the couple is take them back to her father, who readily agrees. It’s literally that simple.

When the film ends with a hint of a sequel, with Krishnan moving to Nellore, one wishes it’s in Telugu and doesn’t find a release here.

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