Cast: Ayushmann Khurrana, Kunaal Roy Kapur, Mumbai's Ballard Pier
Director: Rohan Sippy
Rating: One star
No, no, this can't be Mumbai. Or India. Or even Planet Earth. No one even in his right or even wrong mind saves a weirdo from hanging himself from a tree in a public square, in a metropolis that's chocabloc with pedestrians and pavement dwellers. No one in his twisted mind, takes the wacko suicidee home at the risk of invoking the wrath of his garrulous girlfriend.
And no one should ever write, produce or direct 'Nautanki Saala', which initially annoys you, then lulls you into slumber, and then deepens the creases on your forehead. Oh no, the bright and bouncy Ayushmann Khurrana has just committed career harikiri.
Directed and co-written by Rohan Sippy, this acknowledged remake of the Paris comedie 'Apres Vous', is as absurd as it gets. Merde, merde, merde, this is Sippy Jr's fourth jab at filmmaking, and like it or not, he still has to earn his spurs.
Once again, he trains his camera on SoBo locations (Ballard Pier essentially, the innards of Liberty cinema and the interiors of the art deco Liberty), but elects to narrate a plot which isn't even vaguely Mumbaiyya. For one, there have been no Raavanleela theatre shows running for years every evening at swishy auditoria. And for more iritation, both the lead characters – Ram and Mandar – are about as likeable as a visit to the dental clinic. Eeek.
Ram who portrays Raavan – ha, ha, get the irony guys? – on stage is such a nice guy that he allows the portly Mandar (Kunaal Roy Kapur) to blow his life to smithereens. Seems Mandar is hopelessly in love with a florist salesgal (Pooja Salvi), but she isn't, and so our Ram-cum-Raavan must play Cupid. Turns out to be a charade that's plain stupid.
Because abracadabra -- Cupid falls in love with La Florist, and plants those rubbery Emraan Hashmi kisses on her lips. Not done. Everyone's mega-furious now and the finale must be played out on the Liberty cinema stage – where the audience comprises wildly clapping souls and once in a while, also Japanese tourists. Huh?
But then nothing makes sense in this rom-bore where much is made about candle-lit dinners in over-lit restaurants. Then, there's this elaborate, tortoise-paced sequence with a cataract-eyed grandma (guys, please don't waste theatre stalwart Sulbha Arya in such inane roles). And whoa, there's plenty of tiresome male bonding between the suicidee and his saviour. Asks someone, "Which is the best part of your Raavanleela?" Prompt comes the answer, "Intermission." It should have been "The End" actually.
The notion of love is made out to be some sort of ping pong game: break-ups and liaisons are contrived for the script to take its predictable route. Also, self-praise is thick in the air, what with the saviour describing himself as "sweet and hot." The women on the scene are no more than dumbettes. In a lyric one of them even trills that she's "as hot…like a tequila shot." Such modesty, really.
Technically, the cinematography is cool but uneven. Truly, the only uppers are the songs in the second-half, marvellously composed but indifferently shot. The background music is as attention-seeking as it gets.
Surely, Rohan Sippy can find better, more Indian material than this French import, which he has distorted beyond recognition.
And surely, he can inspire his cast to deliver far more inspired performances. Pooja Salvi, particularly, looks as if she's not all there. What was she dreaming of? Kunaal Roy Kapur HAMS so outrageously that you don't want to see him ever again…unless he improves drastically.
Okay right, so 'Vicky Donor' is a tough act to follow. But this! Alas, Ayushmann Khurrana is mediocre and thoroughly ill-at-ease, like an Alice in Blunderland.
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