Commercial films aren’t just about heroes and villains. There is much more to it. In a scenery where the audience is running behind content driven cinema, it is definitely not a cakewalk to deliver a story-less film which is engaging throughout. Dhanush’s Maari is the latest to join this list, an ordinary film which fails to offer even an ounce of novelty.
Looking back at the film as I walked out of the theater, I found it very hard to put a finger on a single good scene in its complete run-time. Maari is a whole new level of mainstream, the film beats cliché with more cliché. There is zero plot progression throughout the first half, with a lil twist to spice things up at the halfway mark. The second half is a tedious with the film going bonkers where it could have actually scored. You know, watching paint dry is a better option.
Dhanush and Robo Shankar are the sole takeaways from a film which is let down by it’s supporting starcast and their characters. While the former’s swag overdrives the acting quotient, it is the latter’s one-liners which bring the roof down. Robo is undoubtedly one of the underused comedians in the industry, Maari is a fantastic example of his potential. The rest of the cast are typecast to the core, with the weak and dreary villains being the biggest drawback.
Cinematography is decent enough for a commercial film, while the editing isn’t much of a bother. Anirudh’s BGM is as repetitive as the locations in which the film has been shot, both are just a handful.
Maari is a half baked fare from a director who came up with two good films earlier. There are nice ideas throughout – a continuous shot of a road fight which could have been well choreographed, a connecting connection between pigeons and humans, a crackling mass scene with some crackers. But sadly, the narration fails to make you sit up, killing the excitement on the whole. What we get finally, is a basic commercial no-brainer which is as old as the hills. Two hours of smoke and swag can’t save it.
Verdict: An appallingly generic film.
2 / 5