Don't know if director Veeru K was thinking of experimentation when he conceptualized a seductive song forced into the audience's psyche midway while narrating how the husband became paralysed on a fateful day. 'Malini & Co.' is a potentially good plot atrophied into parodies, excessive skin show, unwelcome doubles entendres and even a facetiously treated plot around LTTE-like terrorism.
Starring Poonam Pandey in a role of two contrasts, the film sees terrorism and skin show juxtaposed. Set in two landscapes, the narration flips between these two contrasts even as the audience struggles to establish links amidst the noisy re-recording. It's a film where the big twist is delivered without much of a dramatic feel while Malini's curves are explored religiously and with all care and caution!
There is more of exposing for the voyeur than narrating for the sake of the viewer.
Adarsh Colony in Mumbai's Dharavi is a forte of Dhanraj Mudaliar (Suman). Dhanraj is a law unto himself, a Sarkar and a Nayakudu rolled into one. Enters Malini as a Malayali massage expert, creating trouble in the lives of some four cinematically scared wives. Malini is apparently the one with potential to ruin families because the husbands would lose their balance whenever she dances sexily, walks seductively, talks lustily, etc.
There is a parallel story being narrated and that pertains to the terrorist activity of ethnic minorities in Jaffna. Inspector Ravi Kale is running from pillar to post in order to avert a bomb blast that has been planned to rot Adarsh Colony. All the bit players like Jeeva and Zakir Hussain, who are the terrorists, are puzzled over the counter-machinations and this plot involves Malini.
While the storyline is fairly good, the plot is narrated in a technically inferior fashion. One has to maintain attention to follow the proceedings amidst all the cacophony. Just to make sure that the serious nature of the plot doesn't lead to ennui, the director resorts to pathetically high proportion of skin show at the drop of a hat. All the item numbers where Poonam Pandey is presented as a voluptuous sex bomb would have been good as standalone songs, but seen in the context of the story-telling, they almost border on the ridiculous.
In one instance where a "child dog" wants something that is in the hands of Malini, the crassness is so in-your-face that before we lose balance, an item number is offered as a compensation.
Poonam Pandey here plays a character with substance, but she is left in the lurch because even while narrating her pain, she has to allow herself to be objectified. Vijay Samrat and Milan Rathi end up looking like playing the second fiddle to the bomb that Malini is.
Even the flashbacks leave no impact as they are blighted by reckless narration and even caricaturish presentation. Even a melancholy-inducing song is an excuse to indulge in skin show. If Vaana jallu.. and Chinuku chinuku.. sons are parodied, one song inspired by Asalem gurthuku radu.. of Sai Kumar-Saundarya is thanklessly punctuated with second-rate interpretation.
While not being obsessed over Poonam, the film over-indulges Suman, whose dubbing sounds like a cross between Kamal Hassan's Bharateeyudu and some villain from Ram Gopal Varma's film. All the character artists do a good job and they all lend a semblance of seriousness to an otherwise misrepresented plot.
As if Malini's suggestiveness was not enough, some sidekicks too indulge in skin show. Double entendre becomes the norm when comedy has to be elicited through other innocuous looking but needlessly made up women characters.
International terrorism cannot be treated like a joke and one feels more research could have enriched the plot.
It's Poonam's film all the way, because it is she who is over-indulged than anyone else, much to the exclusion of others. She shows spark in the get-up of a rebellious militant.
The technical aspects needed to be nimble in order to reach a wider audience, especially given the genre.
Verdict: A plot with good potential treated in such a way as to impress the non-discerning.
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