Poriyaalan employs a traditional, fool-proof technique. It opens in the future. The camera follows a conversation between two men lamenting over their misfortune. It focuses unblinkingly on one of them, who is clearly distraught. He is crying in fear.
A second voice then floats over. The camera trundles to the side in a swift gallop. And we kn0w the situation is fraught with danger. An unknown danger that perhaps lurks at the end of the frame. Not because of the tears, or the fear that we could barely smell (only a minute in). But because of the beautiful – and unadorned – camerawork, courtesy cinematographer Velraj.
We are introduced to Harish Kalyan (as Saravanan) then. He is offering words of comfort to a friend.
Poriyaalan features an unexplored premise. Real-estate thuggery. It portrays the seedy underbelly of the business in the city. The agents, the land-owners, the money lenders, the land disputes. Those deceptive advertisements. The ‘clever’ ruse of ‘land-tours’. The plight of civil engineers.
It’s all there. So is an inane dash of masala.
There’s romance, and two jarringly-placed songs.
A rich, ruthless, lecherous business man.
A predictable plot; the kind that assures us that good would definitely triumph over evil, as we lazily watch the proceedings.
A convenient twist.
Mohan Raman in a few hilarious instances as Shastri, the fraudulent land-agent. White-and-white, a smudge of sandal, and an awkward prop for an item number.
Delhi Ganesh in a funny cameo.
And, a poriyaalan who flits through a long, clumsily-engineered story.
Which actually began with a lot of promise.
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