Still, the absence of some truly sparkling scenes (Scene #2 is a must-see) does break my heart, even though the movie is pretty long as it is!

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Hilarious!

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

I can already sense the brickbats. What's my problem? Why can't I just sit back and enjoy a no-holds-barred funfest that's sans logic?

Why can't a 'hard-nosed' critic like me take a chill pill and 'leave my brains at home' (I must confess I still haven't figured out how I'm supposed to perform that anatomical impossibility)?

Anyway, why am I cribbing about a film that's so obviously critic-proof?

Let me tell you why. Because, the truth is that I was, in fact looking forward to seeing some genuine balle-balle fun, to jump up from my seat and do the bhangra routine- and generally let my hair down in a way that only we Singhs perhaps can.

Because I don't wince while wholeheartedly declaring that I had thoroughly enjoyed Anees Bazmee's other recent slapstick caper No Entry- it was mostly light, breezy and had some genuinely sharp comic moments. Total paisa vasool- I thought. Unfortunately, I can hardly say the same for this indulgent, vain and messy film that is so full of itself that it can't help but burst from its seams.

Everything about Singh is Kinng is loud, over-the-top, spicy and downright outrageous- and understandably so- after all, this is a film about a community that embodies all these qualities and as a result, has unfortunately been reduced mostly to a sad cliché on screen. If only it had another quality that the balle-balle boys are well known for- humility, that is.

But Singh is Kinng is a film completely oblivious of how embarrassingly awful, unfunny and even racist it sometimes is (though coming from the man who produced and directed the thoroughly racially-offensive Namastey London, it isn't exactly surprising.) For a film that raises the bar for suspension of disbelief by several kilometers, Bazmee's film is mostly unpardonably boring.

What could have saved Singh is Kinng from being the colossal disaster it is, is undoubtedly the man of the moment- Akshay Kumar, and it is truly tragic that he falls way to short of the kind of trailblazing, larger-than-life and spectacular performance he should have delivered. After some twenty odd minutes of Sonu Sood, Javed Jaffery and a dozen others (including a painfully bad Neha Dhupia) fooling around, one was dying to see Kumar weave his hilarious magic, to give the film the adrenalin boost it so desperately needed. But the sheer energy of his performance hardly sustains, and by the time the first hour has passed, this has already ended up being yet another so-so act by the gifted comic actor.

I could go on but I guess it is only wise to stop- cause no matter how much I rant- the writing on the wall is- the cash registers are still going to inevitably rin(n)g.

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Quentin Tarantino, while explaining why he deleted one of the scenes from his 1994 masterpiece Pulp Fiction said, "It sounds like someone trying to write like me, (rather) than me."

No line could better describe Aziz Mirza's new film Kismat Konnection, which marks his return to direction after a span of nearly five years. It feels like Aziz Mirza trying to make an Aziz Mirza film, which is a pity- for despite their apparent ordinariness, it was the effortless charm and generosity of heart that characterized his previous films that made them so very endearing.

On the face of it, Kismat Konnection has all the trademark themes of an Aziz Mirza film- the struggle of the everyman to survive and succeed, the conflict between morals and ambition, and of course love and romance- why, even the main leads are called Raj and Priya. But while even the rather unsatisfying Chalte Chalte was irresistibly romantic before it became unbearably screechy, that Mirza magic that never failed to connect with us feels strangely amiss here.

The attempt to make everything oh-so-familiar clearly shows from the beginning, and in an emotional scene Shahid almost seems to be unconsciously channeling Shah Rukh Khan, which also makes you yearn for the original Raj- perhaps the only actor who can make doing mush, look like mush.

Shahid Kapur does a decent job but never really manages to come totally into his own, alternating between earnest and trying-too-hard. To be fair, he is an actor who is always easy on the senses- and that sure does help- but the angst of his character never really comes through effectively. Then again, maybe that's also because despite the number of times it is mentioned in the film, Raj never really seems to be 'struggling'. Frankly, if you ask me, he seems having quite a gala time in picturesque Toronto, attractively lensed by the ever-dependable Binod Pradhan.

Vidya Balan, who quite literally plays 'lady-luck' here, could do with some luck herself, or perhaps some better choice of roles and hairdresser/stylist. Her woefully vapid character is a sorry rehash of her roles in Lage Raho Munnabhai and the disastrous Heyy Babyy. The film does absolutely nothing to justify her presence, and it is sad to see the immensely talented actress do little more than well, just look immense.

A great supporting cast can often raise a film by many notches (like we saw two weeks back in another rom-com that has since become the flavor of the season), but that doesn't happen here either, as all we see are loud stereotypes playing themselves out here.

Having said all this, it's not as if the film's all that bad- it's never exactly unwatchable, and after seeing most other films this year, trust me when I say I've seen much worse. But a feel-good film should make you feel good, and that's not exactly the emotion I'm feeling right now. Well, well- what can I say, Mr. Mirza, except- better luck next time?

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Imagine a near-empty movie hall. A few people sat shifting in their seats at the back of the theatre- muttering and sulking, waiting for Woodstock Villa to end. Away in the front rows sat I, howling with laughter.

Movies like Woodstock Villa have the ability to make you go on an emotional and cerebral roller-coaster ride. For the first half of the film I was getting bored to death, wondering if the movie would ever really take off. Then, having lost hope for the film and its possible redemption, I sat feeling depressed and confounded, wondering how such a poor script actually manages to find its way to the multiplex. Do the producers actually expect us to pay to watch this?

But towards the end I was so amused by the sheer inanity and of it all that I couldn't help but crack up. The way the film ends seems to suggest that the makers think they have actually pulled off a stunning twist, a genuine revelation on the audience. If they do, they are sorely mistaken.

Woodstock Villa is- well, quite a terrible film- not really in the most obviously obnoxious or offensive way, but worse- so indifferently made and so uninvolving, that the only parts that might surprise you do so only because they are so amazingly ridiculous.

The story follows a good-for-nothing cad Sameer (Sikandar Kher) who desperately needs money to pay off his debts accumulated with his lavish all-play-no-work lifestyle while Arbaaz Khan and Neha Uberoi play an unhappily married couple. When Zara (Uberoi) asks Sameer to 'kidnap' her and ask her husband for ransom to 'test if he still loves her', he jumps on the offer. What follows is a plodding tale of lies, deceit and murder.

Even at my kind and lenient best, I have failed to find a single redeeming point about the film. Bunty Nagi's editing is plain annoying and tries to treat every scene as a sensation, with incessant dissolves, split frames, flash cuts, jump cuts, slow motion, the works; Vikash Nowlakha's camerawork just passes muster while giving your eyeballs a lot of painful exercise. And the best thing I can say about Anu Malik's music is that maybe it's not as horrendous as it sounds.

The dialogues by Milap Zaveri are an embarrassment, and the screenplay by Sanjay Gupta, Rajiv Gopal and S. Farhan is totally bankrupt of logic. Songs are arbitrarily and unnecessarily placed in the film- after a seriously dull credit sequence, we are subjected to Sikander Kher singing in Mika's lecherous sounding voice, and a crucial point of the story is interrupted by Sanjay Dutt pretending to play the drums and guitar through another nerve-wracking song.

Sikandar makes a debut that is just about okay, while Arbaaz Khan and Neha Uberoi desperately seem to be vying for the title of the most wooden actor in this enterprise. Meanwhile we have Gulshan Grover doing his typical cartoony bad-man act, while Shakti Kapoor does a bit role, playing an over-the-top (what else?) Sardar.

Let me be curt. The makers have obviously wasted a decent lot of time and money on this sheer farce. My solemn and obvious advice to you is to avoid committing the same mistake.

Aziz Mirza is back. Okay, Chalte Chalte was a damp squib- but that shouldn't stop us from looking forward to his next release after quite some time. The first look of Kismat Konnection is out, and hey, it doesn't look bad at all.

Thankfully, neither does its lead actress, the gorgeous but sartorially-challenged Vidya Balan, who after much flak for her wardrobe on and off-screen, manages to look quite pretty here. There's no drastic 'makeover' as such, but Shabina Khan's (who replaced Aki Narula after he had differences with Vidya) styling seems to have worked well, even if it isn't absolutely stunning. One can safely say that you can finally get over the shock of seeing her dressed as a 70's vamp at a jewellery store launch and as a Christmas tree at the Filmfare Awards.

Okay, enough about Vidya Balan- forgive my exaggerated concern about her costumes, but I think her 'demure Indian' image is limiting this talented and beautiful and charming and. (okay, enough) actress who just needs a good stylist.

Vidya, of course stars alongside Shahid Kapur, who is fresh from the success of Jab We Met in this romantic comedy. The chemistry isn't scorching, but there seems to be a nice cute vibe there- they look nice together, though time will tell how this on-screen pair clicks. Aziz Mirza's close friend- the effervescent Juhi Chawla also stars in a guest role, and reportedly plays a gypsy woman.

The first promo has the now typical split-screens coupled with wannabe-rap type but catchy music (wonder who's done the music) , but on the whole comes across as pretty fresh and peppy.

This should definitely be one worth looking forward to. Take a look.

Originally published on NOWRUNNING.COM

Till now, I had my suspicions about this, but now I have to say I am totally convinced. There are definitely some pet poltergeists that haunt two big production houses of Bollywood that go by the name of Chopra. Last year, we saw the Yash Raj Gloss Ghoul at work, ensuring that Laaga Chunari Mein Daag dripped with copious amounts of gloss and glycerine, and that the decrepit amphitheatre in Aaja Nachle was needlessly transformed into a dazzling Mega Bollywood Set every time there was a dance sequence.

There's another similar evil specter that haunts Bhoothnath, and no- it's definitely not Amitabh Bachchan, God bless him. This time it's a certain Baghban-Bhoot that comes to wreak havoc in the latest film from the house of BR Chopra. It's the most unwelcome guest appearance ever in a film, one that takes a perfectly fine kiddie-flick into the murky depths of maudlin melodrama, till the film almost loses its er, spirit.The second half of Bhoothnath could literally be called Ek Aur Baghban- the sense of déjà vu is embarrassingly overwhelming- the weeping, ignored parents, the callous son, the super-bitch bahu and the sweet grandson are all reintroduced to us as Bhoothnath nosedives into a painful narrative stand that is a flashback in more ways than one. Hell, even the 'new-age' musical duo Vishal-Shekhar seem stuck in a time warp, as they dole out an accompanying retro-number that in this day and age would even make the likes of Nadeem-Shravan wince.

And yes, the only reason the film somehow survives this blast from the past is undeniably its leading man, who shows us yet again why nobody does it better than him. Amitabh Bachchan oozes playfulness and poignancy even when saddled with the most clichéd of scenes, and this is indeed a performance difficult not to like. It's a pleasure to hear that commanding voice boom and fill the theatre, and Mr. Bachchan, despite playing what is not exactly a challenging role, leaves us pretty mesmerized. Take a bow, Bhoothnathji.

Then again, the attack of the Baghban clone aside, Bhoothnath itself isn't too bad. It isn't exceptionally smart or witty, but is enjoyable in its own sweet way, and pretty much runs like a well-oiled Bollywood summer holiday movie, the kind that the great Indian family would well enjoy together, judging by the frequent chuckles in the theatre. It's neatly and simply shot and directed by Vivek Sharma, who doesn't strive for any brilliance as such, but has things pretty much in control, and with the kind of cinema we get to see these days, that actually admirable for a first-time helmer. He isn't in awe of the huge stars in his film, and it is actually refreshing to see Shah Rukh Khan in a guest appearance that isn't forced and doesn't keep announcing its presence loudly.

Besides the insuperable Bachchan, the rest of the actors do a rather nice job too, and it is credit to the cast that Bhoothnath remains fairly enjoyable for the most part. Aman Siddiqui does well with his badmaash-Banku act, and while he plays the typical precocious Bollywood kid, he is never cloying or irritating. His eyes turn from mischievous to innocent in a flicker, and he shares a charming camaraderie with the friendly ghost. Juhi Chawla is her good old self, as loveable as ever and disarmingly natural in the role of a mom who wonderfully isn't near-perfect; she hates getting up in the morning, and hates cooking even more- endlessly stuffing her family with sandwiches.

And so, while Bhoothnath is far from being perfect fare, hey- it ain't too drab either. With the kind of films that have recently populated screens, and will continue to do so at least till a few more weeks- if you are itching to be in a theatre since a long time, might as well make it this one- before the friendly multiplex ghost evaporates itself.

If (only) I were in Madhavan's place... would never stop talking to her! Even her voice makes me go weak in the knees- whew!