The story takes place in a resort, like every other crappy movie set in the same geography, because the director and crew couldn't be bothered to find a new location, so we're stuck in yet another hell-house. We have this lead, who is your typical hot mess-a caretaker-slash-escort with a double life and more emotional baggage, a predictably easy arc. And surprise (which the director ought to have added well, which wasn't a surprise), she's "insecure and unstable on the inside." Groundbreaking character development right there. Then we have her sidekick, who apparently gets lured into all sorts of "mind-altering debauchery." Riveting! The rest of the movie? Oh, just our leading lady batting her eyelashes and generally being "funny" with her "libidinous appeal" while battling the demons in her own head. You know, the usual European arthouse movie crappy film festival-winning plot.
As this clichéd mess was destined to, we have a cop showing up to drag the already comatose story along. And let's not forget our mentally unstable sidekick who spends the entire runtime being a clueless pawn and yearns for biryani (pun intended) until the awful last act.
The theme of power dynamics (victim and executioner) with "manipulation"-it's been done to death in every psychological thriller since, well, forever. This particular rendition? Dull as dishwater, with acting so wooden you could build a cabin with it, and an ending so predictable it insulted my intelligence. Oh, and let's sprinkle in some "barely thrilling" moments, a healthy dose of hippie soundtrack vibes, and some "funny" cocaine sniffing for good measure. Because, you know, art.
I actually had the audacity to think Don Palathara's "Santhoshathinte Onnam Rahasyam" was the bottom of the barrel. Turns out, "No Man's Land" strolled in like a pathetic co-rider, vomited all over that title and snatched that coveted title.
So, in conclusion, please don't bother unless you like wasting your time watching this pretentious garbage amateur cinema. You've been warned.
