Machchi, kuppae da, kuppaeswamy padam idhu (hey buddy, this movie is trash).
A wretched melange of an asinine story, shoddy acting and mediocre music, Kanthaswamy is a mind-numbing piece of trash that left us shell-shocked and reeling in horror at the infernal nonsense unfolding on the screen.
Folks, at three hours this garbage is exactly three hours too long.
Susi Ganesan, the arch villain of Kanthaswamy, is a dilettante, a rank amateur and a danda-soru (wastrel) out to rip you off your money and time.
How this tyro (guilty of the crimes of non-story, non-screenplay and mis-direction) got to don the director’s crown is, to use a Churchillian expression, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
Is Kollywood so starved of talent that they’d stoop so low as to settle for dregs and schmucks like Susi Ganesan? Sad.
To think these clowns behind Kanthaswamy flew to Mexico and other parts of the world to film this embarrassment is an astonishing act of chutzpah.
Why Vikram, Why?
Whatever possessed Kollywood star Vikram of Anniyan fame to feature in this horrid movie is a mystery we’d like to unlock.
Alas, the Vikram in the bizzare Batmanesque costume we encounter on the screen is not the brilliant Ambi/Anniyan of Anniyan fame but the sick Vikram of the Bheema infamy.
There’s no fire in this Vikram fella anymore.
Whether he’s fighting the baddies, romancing the girl or delivering righteous spiels on helping the poor, Vikram impresses not one whit.
Not for a second do we get a convincing portrayal by Vikram.
Kanthaswamy (Vikram), the eponymous hero of the movie, is cast in the role of a Robin Hood cop who takes from crooks like PPP (Ashish Vidyarti) and renders to the needy and poor.
And how do you think the poor send out desperate pleas for help to Kanthaswamy – by affixing letters to a tree at a Murugan temple!
But the Robin Hood aspect of the movie is so crudely handled and so implausible that it beggars belief.
You see, Vikram is not merely a Robin Hood like figure but part of a large network that includes senior police officers and other government officials.
Playing a villain named PPP with a twisted face, Ashish Vidyarti ends up a cartoon figure as he feigns paralysis.
Shriya Saran, Alas
With an ugly concupiscent grin pasted on her face, her clothes shredded, her thighs on lavish display, her legs spread apart in lascivious abandon and utterly bereft of screen presence or the most basic acting skills, this modern-day Medusa is a curse visited on Tamils.
Wrapped in a blue towel as she emerges from the bathtub for the Meow, Meow song, Shriya Saran was nauseating, sheer hell to endure.
Will some good samaritan teach this monkey a few basic dance steps? Please.
Playing the daughter of the villain PPP, Shriya’s sole claim to fame in Kanthaswamy is to inflict immense pain on viewers every second she’s on the screen.
Vadivelu, What For?
The comedy track featuring Vadivelu is disgustingly sick and has little to do with passes for the main movie.
So bad, it felt like a walk through a Dantean inferno.
If this be music, then you’re looking at a different lexicon.
With most songs picturized in the most inane ‘item-number’ fashion, it’s with difficulty that we restrained ourselves from expelling a wail.
Several members of the audience walked out during Excuse Me, Mr.Kandaswamy and Meow, Meow.
Skip This Movie
Given the insidious crap on the screen, the audience at Newark Cinemas for the 8:45PM show was very disengaged with the movie, frequently walking out and chatting.
Who can blame them?
If we did not have the Damocles’ Sword of the review hanging over our head, we’d have walked out.
Guys, do not consider watching this piece of trash unless you suffer from a masochistic itch on your backside.
By all means, show Kanthaswamy the middle finger. It deserves no less.