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Sadly for Srivatsa, he makes disastrous debutant directorial essay with Mrugashira. A trashy, moth-eaten tale and equally amateurish and abominable direction by Srivatsa makes Mrugashira miserable time at the theatre. That the film is being written about is itself, the film makers should be grateful about. Where in the madness did have they come up with such a pitiable, pathetic plot you wonder as you tear your hair virtually plucking it out of its roots.
Indeed as the film’s tagline goes Devil’s in the search of God, you are pushed into purgatory. A loony drunken lout, a madcap insurance agent and macho man with an eye on the hidden treasure are the trio that take viewers on a riotous rampage.
With nothing really working for it except couple of songs, Mrugashira is a mad malarkey to find oneself spending one’s matinee time. There are better ways and pasttimes to purse to seek relief from the tedium of one’s daily grind. Shun Mrugashira by a bargepole.