Clemjey

A masterclass in how not to make a movie in direct competion with Thug Life The story wanders like it got lost on the way to the theater, with scenes stitched together like a badly patched lungi. Characters? Flatter than yesterday’s soda — no arcs, no depth, just cardboard cutouts waiting for the next illogical scene. And then comes the plasma electrocution chair for thr countless bodies racked up in the process of smuggling watches that requires an operator whose demise brings our super star to the port. And that dragging flashback. By the end, you’re not watching a film, you’re surviving a test of patience. In short: pure marana mokkai — handle with gloves.

What a rubbish movie! Watched it on Netflix to enjoy a Sunday evening but never had such a wasted evening feeling in my life. The only purpose such movies serve is to make us appreciate good movies and the talent behind those more