The young, rich, foreign-returned Samarendra (Samarendra) is ready to inherit his father's companies and property. However, he's so out of touch with the ways of our land, he has to be taught even how to pray in a temple. And your choking on your Lay's starts by the 2nd minute of the film, and reaches a morose climax when you realize that this specimen can even fall in love.
The object of his mating calls is Anjali (Richa Sony), who is better than the male of her species, in the fact that she knows how to pray in a temple. What's more, she seems like she knows how to use her opposable thumb, too. But anything beyond that, is a strict no-no for her tribe. For example, when it comes to dressing up for a temple visit, she knows only half of what to do, since she turns up in only half of whatever is generally worn.
Samarendra lives in the happy company of his father Mahendra Verma (Suman), his uncle Subbaraju (Rao Ramesh), and his mute servant-maid (Jhansi). The twist in the tale surprises you, when it is discovered that someone wants to finish Samarendra off. Since, so far, his relentless refusal to emote, or even look alive, he made it seem like he was trying to finish off the entire audience, as well as its step-brother.
His father is trying to protect him from his killer. But some strange incidents make Samarendra suspicious that this father's the one who wants to kill him. For example, a glass of milk served by the father to the son burns an entire potted plant, demonstrating the acidic nature of its contents. But the question Samarendra doesn't ask himself is, which father would want to poison his own son? Because he knows the answer to it is the real question - which father would want a son like him?
What's more, Mahendra Verma is seen acting chummy with a woman and her daughter, when he's actually a widower. Samarendra suspects the worst - maybe it's Suman's wig. Or maybe it's Saikumar's dubbing. Samarendra confronts the woman, but comes to know that she's the wife of the person who dies saving Samarendra's life when Samarendra's mother (Sudha) lost her life in a fire accident.
Samarendra soon discovers that it's his uncle who's been plotting all along. He's the one who even killed his own sister (Samarendra's mother) for the love of property. Subbaraju's logical next step is to tie a belt of bombs around Mahendra Verma's waist, and to threaten to blow up a school.
The ending is no big consolation for us audiences - Subbaraju is eliminated, but Samarendra and his love life are still around. He, however, doesn't want an inch of his dad's property. He wants to be a self-made man, apparently. His father likes it that way, and thinks that if that's how every youngster starts thinking, India would become like America and Japan. The trick for Samarendra, however, is to start with sentences of three syllables each.
Adugu is a story-less, dialogue-less, emotion-less wonder that was released to serve no purpose other than to keep the parking attendant, the ticket counter guy and the usher, busy for a legitimate day's pay.
Samarendra is no hero material. He isn't made of any material - he looks and behaves like a bad drawing. The heroine joins him in the inanimatedness, and both of them need to be gone for a century before they hope to re-enter the world of cinema.
Suman can do nothing to save this bucket of glop. Ali, M S Narayana, Master Bharath and a few other comedians just make it a messier bucket.
If you need to know the gory details, the film has the technical values of your local Recycle Bin. Surprisingly, a couple of songs are good, and remind you of Harris Jayraj.
At the end, you realize that this is no movie. It's just an incredibly bad day.