janasorl
Entrou em out. de 2021
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Classificação de janasorl
Avaliações26
Classificação de janasorl
"Son of Sardaar 2" is what happens when a franchise loses the plot - literally and spiritually. While the original flirted with absurdity under the guise of action-comedy, this sequel takes a nosedive into grotesque horror, splatter, and cringe-inducing attempts at being edgy.
Let's clarify something up front: Sardaar, once a title of pride, has been rebranded here - twisted into Belial, a demonic figure dragged up from the depths of religious apocrypha. The film makes no effort to hide that its main character, the so-called Son of Belial, is essentially the spawn of a devil, now rampaging through India with little more than a bloodlust and a handful of terrible one-liners.
The plot - if you can call it that - is a stitched-up mess. The Son of Belial is on the run after committing a series of grotesque, ritualistic murders that are shown in excessive, almost fetishistic detail. Limbs fly, heads roll, and somewhere in the background, a CGI cow explodes. It's hard to say whether the film is trying to be a horror, a parody, or just an endurance test for your gag reflex.
Any attempt at social commentary is drowned in bad pacing and worse dialogue. Characters scream, overact, and frequently vanish for no reason. Musical numbers are jammed between murder scenes like someone hit shuffle on a cursed playlist. The editing is so chaotic it feels like each scene was directed by a different demon.
Visually, it's gaudy, saturated, and full of cheap digital effects that wouldn't pass in a PS2 game. Sound design is loud for the sake of being loud - like the movie is trying to scream over your inner voice begging you to turn it off.
If there's one thing "Son of Sardaar 2" proves, it's that not every story needs a sequel - especially not one about the devil's idiot son carving his way through India with no purpose, no charm, and no soul. It's a cinematic catastrophe that thinks shock value can replace storytelling.
Let's clarify something up front: Sardaar, once a title of pride, has been rebranded here - twisted into Belial, a demonic figure dragged up from the depths of religious apocrypha. The film makes no effort to hide that its main character, the so-called Son of Belial, is essentially the spawn of a devil, now rampaging through India with little more than a bloodlust and a handful of terrible one-liners.
The plot - if you can call it that - is a stitched-up mess. The Son of Belial is on the run after committing a series of grotesque, ritualistic murders that are shown in excessive, almost fetishistic detail. Limbs fly, heads roll, and somewhere in the background, a CGI cow explodes. It's hard to say whether the film is trying to be a horror, a parody, or just an endurance test for your gag reflex.
Any attempt at social commentary is drowned in bad pacing and worse dialogue. Characters scream, overact, and frequently vanish for no reason. Musical numbers are jammed between murder scenes like someone hit shuffle on a cursed playlist. The editing is so chaotic it feels like each scene was directed by a different demon.
Visually, it's gaudy, saturated, and full of cheap digital effects that wouldn't pass in a PS2 game. Sound design is loud for the sake of being loud - like the movie is trying to scream over your inner voice begging you to turn it off.
If there's one thing "Son of Sardaar 2" proves, it's that not every story needs a sequel - especially not one about the devil's idiot son carving his way through India with no purpose, no charm, and no soul. It's a cinematic catastrophe that thinks shock value can replace storytelling.
"Raid 2" attempts to pick up the ashes of its already dusty predecessor and fling them directly into the audience's eyes. Set in 1989 Rajasthan - or perhaps a student theater production of Rajasthan - the film opens with Officer Patnaik, played by an actor who clearly lost a bet, storming a palace with the charisma of a tax audit. The raid fails instantly, mostly because Patnaik forgets why he's there and spends the rest of the scene whispering about "justice" while accidentally raiding the palace's gift shop.
Following this "immense failure" (as the film's narrator calls it, over the sound of someone weeping in the editing booth), Patnaik abandons law enforcement and, in a jarring tonal shift, becomes a brony. Yes, that kind of brony. He moves into his mother's basement (despite the film never showing a house above it), where he spends his days in a haze of shameful porn, My Little Pony reruns, and whisper-crying into Rainbow Dash pillows.
Somewhere in this emotional junkyard of a plot, he befriends a seagull - a fully CGI monstrosity with the voice of an exhausted call center worker - who visits daily to eat sardines and judge Patnaik's life choices. The seagull, named "Justice" (because of course), is actually the most consistent and believable character in the film.
The rest of Raid 2 is a confusing blur of musical montages about nothing, budget fight scenes choreographed by interns, and a voiceover that openly apologizes midway through: "We didn't think you'd make it this far."
By the time the credits roll - in Comic Sans, no less - the only raid you'll be thinking about is the one you want to launch on the director's house for wasting two hours of your life.
Following this "immense failure" (as the film's narrator calls it, over the sound of someone weeping in the editing booth), Patnaik abandons law enforcement and, in a jarring tonal shift, becomes a brony. Yes, that kind of brony. He moves into his mother's basement (despite the film never showing a house above it), where he spends his days in a haze of shameful porn, My Little Pony reruns, and whisper-crying into Rainbow Dash pillows.
Somewhere in this emotional junkyard of a plot, he befriends a seagull - a fully CGI monstrosity with the voice of an exhausted call center worker - who visits daily to eat sardines and judge Patnaik's life choices. The seagull, named "Justice" (because of course), is actually the most consistent and believable character in the film.
The rest of Raid 2 is a confusing blur of musical montages about nothing, budget fight scenes choreographed by interns, and a voiceover that openly apologizes midway through: "We didn't think you'd make it this far."
By the time the credits roll - in Comic Sans, no less - the only raid you'll be thinking about is the one you want to launch on the director's house for wasting two hours of your life.
"Retro," starring Suriya, Pooja Hegde, and Jayaram, is a film that dares to ask the question: What if a gangster movie had absolutely no gangster-ing and all the emotional weight of being stuck in traffic with someone chewing your ear off about Tupperware lids?
Suriya plays Arjun "Bullet" Varma, a feared don who, in the film's bold opening 3 minutes, shoots a guy for looking at his shoes funny. So far, so good. But then - plot twist - his wife, played by Pooja Hegde, nags him into retirement with the persistence of a malfunctioning fire alarm. And not the sympathetic, emotionally nuanced kind of nagging. No, we're talking full-on "Why are there dishes in the sink, Bullet?" every five minutes.
So what does our once-legendary gangster do? Does he start a syndicate under the radar? Become a vigilante? Enter the shady world of used car sales?
Nope.
He opens a 7-Eleven in what can only be described as the cinematic equivalent of a forgotten alley in a SimCity map. And that's it. That's the movie.
Jayaram plays a suspiciously wise homeless man who hangs around the store, mostly offering advice like, "Hot dogs are 2-for-1 today," and "Don't trust the ice machine." There are long, meandering scenes of Suriya sweeping the store, doing inventory, and-God help us-arguing over coupon policies. It's as if Breaking Bad stopped after season one and became a loyalty card drama.
The cinematography tries to channel gritty realism, but ends up looking like an extended GoPro ad set in 2008. The soundtrack features retro Tamil funk, which is admittedly cool for 10 seconds before it starts playing during a scene where Bullet is comparing energy drink brands.
The climax? A heated confrontation with a shoplifter who steals a microwave burrito. No shootouts. No betrayals. Just Suriya whisper-yelling, "Drop the burrito, bro."
I'd call the movie brave if it hadn't wasted so much talent. Suriya is trying. You can see it in his eyes. He wants to bring depth to Bullet's transition from feared don to reluctant store manager. But even he can't make "We're out of slushie lids again" sound dramatic.
Suriya plays Arjun "Bullet" Varma, a feared don who, in the film's bold opening 3 minutes, shoots a guy for looking at his shoes funny. So far, so good. But then - plot twist - his wife, played by Pooja Hegde, nags him into retirement with the persistence of a malfunctioning fire alarm. And not the sympathetic, emotionally nuanced kind of nagging. No, we're talking full-on "Why are there dishes in the sink, Bullet?" every five minutes.
So what does our once-legendary gangster do? Does he start a syndicate under the radar? Become a vigilante? Enter the shady world of used car sales?
Nope.
He opens a 7-Eleven in what can only be described as the cinematic equivalent of a forgotten alley in a SimCity map. And that's it. That's the movie.
Jayaram plays a suspiciously wise homeless man who hangs around the store, mostly offering advice like, "Hot dogs are 2-for-1 today," and "Don't trust the ice machine." There are long, meandering scenes of Suriya sweeping the store, doing inventory, and-God help us-arguing over coupon policies. It's as if Breaking Bad stopped after season one and became a loyalty card drama.
The cinematography tries to channel gritty realism, but ends up looking like an extended GoPro ad set in 2008. The soundtrack features retro Tamil funk, which is admittedly cool for 10 seconds before it starts playing during a scene where Bullet is comparing energy drink brands.
The climax? A heated confrontation with a shoplifter who steals a microwave burrito. No shootouts. No betrayals. Just Suriya whisper-yelling, "Drop the burrito, bro."
I'd call the movie brave if it hadn't wasted so much talent. Suriya is trying. You can see it in his eyes. He wants to bring depth to Bullet's transition from feared don to reluctant store manager. But even he can't make "We're out of slushie lids again" sound dramatic.