“Simhadri is an overflow of poor performances. There's nothing except Vijay's well choreographed action scenes to watch out for. Give this one a miss.”
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Our film-makers never tiring in foisting on audiences the same formulaic trash, filmgoers hardly have any say in the matter.
And it is the same old story with Simhadri, soaked in sister sentiment, rinsed in rusticity, brimming with bawdy, below the belt comedy, trying to regale you.
With director Shivamani, who takes pride in also scripting the sordid saga, making no bones about it, you either have to like it or lump it.
While it is whistling time for Vijay's loyal legionnaires as he turns into a roaring tiger when anything ill is spoken of his sister or meek and purrs like a pussycat when the jewel of his eye sister takes him to task, for the rest of us though it's torture ad nauseam.
It is really a wonder how the star's die-hards suffer such indigestible inanities, an indignity on their senses, as film after film, has Vijay going through the same motions, while for the rest of us it is simply one hellish experience.
Playing the uncouth cowherd with golden heart, blessed with fiesty fists, to take on scheming dairy chairman, our Vijay sleepwalks through routine bashing pulp those that rub him the wrong way, have unkind words against his wiser, much to the delirious delight of his fans.
With nothing much to bemoan except to bawl that Simhadri is not the end of such stupefying productions, but many will follow suit with Vijay typecast in trash, bash and roar and rave roles, there is no respite from thrash that rankles and leaves one fuming.