Param Blunderi!!

Param Blunderi : My Quick take on movie “Param Sundari” (Theatrical release)

I love movies made by Keralites — their cinema is like a well-cooked avial: rich, layered, and nourishing for the mind. I also love movies shot in Kerala — after all, it is God’s Own Country, where even the breeze seems to have a background score.

But Bollywood? Ah, it has a strange talent — take the subtle poetry of Malabar life and flatten it into a cartoon sketch. Param Sundari is a masterclass in exactly that: a movie that mistakes stereotypes for storytelling, leaving us with a Param Brainless spectacle.

My elder brother used to say, “There are some singers who, if they come on TV, it’s better to watch them than to hear them.” This movie fits the bill perfectly. Plug your ears, and suddenly it transforms into a glossy coffee-table video book for Kerala Tourism — minus the irritating audio track.

The plot? Nothing new — a Punjabi lad tries to woo a Kerala molley. A cultural curry, yes, but cooked without any spice. Honestly, the less said, the better.

And here’s how I felt, in true “Param” style:

•I am Param-happy at how the camera worshipped Kerala’s beauty — every frame was a postcard begging to be framed.

•I am Param-sad that the Keralites on screen were painted with the finesse of a crayon in a toddler’s hand.

•I am Param-excited to confirm that Ek Duje Ke Liye is still the Taj Mahal of North-South love sagas, while this one barely qualifies as a bus stop mural.

•I am Param-kicking myself harder than a Kathakali dancer for wasting time and money on this film.

•I am Param-amazed that the most soulful performance came not from the leads, but from a majestic four-legged actor — an elephant — who, with one gentle sway, stole the entire frame.

•I am Param-convinced that any movie with romance at its core needs hummable songs — this one clearly missed the last bus home.

•I am Param-elated at the opening scene of a mundu-clad munda running for his life — because that’s exactly how I felt like running out of the theater. But having invested in a popcorn bucket and a nacho tray, I chose to sit through the torture like a hostage negotiating with carbs.

The only truly redeeming factor? The landscapes. The backwaters shimmered like liquid emerald, the coconut groves stood like sentinels of serenity, and every shot screamed: “Forget this movie — just book a ticket to Kerala!”

Overall, Param Sundari — a beautiful postcard trapped in a hollow envelope. Good for Kerala Tourism, bad for cinema.