Jyothi Lakshmi is Tammareddy Bharadwaj-meets-incomplete Puri Jagannadh.  When Charmi is seen fighting over using condom on first night, you would hardly be prepared to see a 'Prathighatana' from her.  But that is exactly what happens here, with good unPuri stuff thrown in.  The film is a throwback to the 90s style narration from the time the prostitute who never called any man 'anna' except a pimp or a cop, takes it upon herself to close the sex racket in the city.  Like it happens in our films, there is only one super pimp who needs to be destroyed. Jyothi the rebel makes it very clear that behind every woman's woes, there is a man.

Do you go to a Puri film to watch a former sex worker's 'prathighatana'?  You may have to, for the TEMPERament is not 'Businessman'-like now.  There is the usual flashback with the mandatory sentimentality.  After the pious dose of prurience and titillation, the director gets into revolution mode minus Vandemataram Srinivas.  It is not until tragedy strikes a fellow sex worker that the potential revolutionary in deep slumber realizes that the law itself is discriminatory in not punishing the client.  Once she realizes it, there is no looking back: looking is only looking through China-made spy cameras.

Charmi is a vivacious, enterprising whore from Gangubhai land.  Brimming with desire and bursting with song-n'-dance, she is pursued by Satyadev.  One side love happens and it is marriage time in no time.  But can the celebrated celebrity-whore called Jyothi Lakshmi put her past behind?

All through watching the cliched second half, one feels it is quite unPuri.  The director settles for unleashing the 'nari' in saree (complete with 'kumkum' but thankfully not armed with any divine prowess), and making her spout pedestrian lines.  When Revolution 2.0 can be accomplished by using placard-wielding activism, sting operations and news channels, where is the need to wear the thinking cap?

This one is yet another Puri film without a separate comedy track; there is only a separate titillation track which gives way to a separate, disjointed senti track, and eventually comes a separate, elaborate 'prathighatana' track delivered like a semi-rehash.

Brahmanandam hardly gives a takeaway (barring his "Customers emotions tho adukokandi.."), Sampoornesh Babu gets the least indulgent role he can imagine, Krishnudu and Sapthagiri are criminally wasted.  Without Ali, the writer must have been handicapped without an opportunity to deliver an extra double entendre.

Enough said about Charmi's characterization, who gets the lion's share from the time Satyadev is crippled in old filmi style.  Suffice it to say that there is nothing novel about a deviant character who transforms, without much effort, into someone mature enough to say, "Adadi meeku artham kadu.."  For many years will maturity be portrayed through lines like these?  Surely, there are subtle ways of doing it?

Satyadev doesn't make an impact, there comes a point when his 'I love you..' sounds stale and emotionless.  The villains anyways don't have much to do.  The owner's daughter and the friend are the only Puri-esque characters out there.

It's Charmi's film all the way.  Minus her oomph, the film would be a damp squib.

PG Vinda's cinematography passes muster. Sunil Kashyap's music is just OK.

Verdict: A film where skin show and shakti show go together in a half-baked mish-mash. Just imagine!

తెలుగు వెర్షన్ రివ్యూ