I had gone to see 'Humshakals' recently- yes, I had- and I remember appreciating Tamannah looking like a Sugar Babe, hopping around in that racy, pink number on 'Caller Tune'. I also remember appreciating the choreographer, who had created a catchy step that even those of us born with two left feet can follow. And that... That was the exact moment when the first yawn hit me. And then some more.
Between slit eyelids, I vaguely remember comparing Bipasha Basu with "Morticia Addams in shorts", and barely register some recalling of saying that Ram Kapoor prancing in bikinis on a beach could be the reason behind the next Lunar Eclipse, but by that time, I was leaning hard on my friend's sleeve, snoring in a pool of drool.
I had heard that film is a powerful medium and it can stir strong emotions in you like Hatred, Sorrow, Melancholy and Love, but we might just be the one proud nation in the entire world that has borne a new-age genius, who can stir another incredibly powerful emotion- Fatigue. And never before in my entire life, had an AC theater been so sleep-inducing. Thank you, Messrs. Sajid Khan, for drowsing and dousing our lives in equal measures
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But the worst was still in store. I had reached Bhubaneswar yesterday after a long, grueling week and decided to check out one of the latest releases- "Transformers: Age of Extinction"
I could crash Facebook writing on "Transformers: Age of Extinction", but let me save you from the wrath of my fury by explaining, in a just a few words, what the movie-watching experience was:
Plug a pair of speakers to your laptop, rock the volume-knob to the highest notch and start playing "Du hast mich" by Rammstein and "Gloomy Sunday" by Rezső Seress at the same time. Now run around the entire room tossing a few steel pots and pans in the air every ten seconds, and let them crash on to the concrete floor. Get a hot-ass babe in shorts to join you, and there you have- The Complete Recipe'; The Comprehensive "Transformers" experience.
P.S- When the lights were switched-on at the 'assumed' interval, the guy sitting beside me looked at me and said- "Wow, man. That's a mighty impressive face tattoo. Respect"
The "tattoo" was actually a network of veins on my forehead, standing taut and about to pop
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With such a bitter after-taste, I said to myself- " 'Ek Villain' can NOT be worse", and walked into the theater.
In the first ten minutes, I had come to the conclusion that this movie's infinitely more enjoyable if seen with the psycho-sexual subtext. Here's a husband who limps, in every possible way, in front of his wife and compensates for this alpha-male emasculation by plunging something long and hard inside other ladies. Here it is a screw-driver, but it could very well be a phallic symbol for... you know.
Sidhharth Malhotra might never get over the fact that his only achievement could be exuding an 'Alok Nath' kind of amiable warmth on-screen, with the milk-of-human-kindness in his bosom. Here, you could practically taste the straining and huffing he does to get into the character of a tough guy. Sincere effort, but as they say- no cigar.
And I might sound like a tough oak here, but for a victim who dies in the first five minutes of the movie, it's actually Shraddha Kapoor who kills the movie. And not in a good way. The relentless chatter she unleashes on us is supposed to create the mental picture of a sweet-melancholy girl. But the image it manages to create is that of Arnab Goswami in drag.
But Riteish does take you by surprise. And the credit goes to Mohit Suri here, for casting him against type. In fact, everybody seems to be cast against type except, of course, Kamaal R Khan, who's as obnoxious here as that lecher journalist in Asshiqui-2.(Spelling mistake, deliberate)
After watching these three movies, I could recall another famous scene from yet another movie, where a character sitting in the darkness, would be glum-fully asking to himself- "Hum jeeyein, ki nahin jeeyein?"
Between slit eyelids, I vaguely remember comparing Bipasha Basu with "Morticia Addams in shorts", and barely register some recalling of saying that Ram Kapoor prancing in bikinis on a beach could be the reason behind the next Lunar Eclipse, but by that time, I was leaning hard on my friend's sleeve, snoring in a pool of drool.
I had heard that film is a powerful medium and it can stir strong emotions in you like Hatred, Sorrow, Melancholy and Love, but we might just be the one proud nation in the entire world that has borne a new-age genius, who can stir another incredibly powerful emotion- Fatigue. And never before in my entire life, had an AC theater been so sleep-inducing. Thank you, Messrs. Sajid Khan, for drowsing and dousing our lives in equal measures
===================================================================================
But the worst was still in store. I had reached Bhubaneswar yesterday after a long, grueling week and decided to check out one of the latest releases- "Transformers: Age of Extinction"
I could crash Facebook writing on "Transformers: Age of Extinction", but let me save you from the wrath of my fury by explaining, in a just a few words, what the movie-watching experience was:
Plug a pair of speakers to your laptop, rock the volume-knob to the highest notch and start playing "Du hast mich" by Rammstein and "Gloomy Sunday" by Rezső Seress at the same time. Now run around the entire room tossing a few steel pots and pans in the air every ten seconds, and let them crash on to the concrete floor. Get a hot-ass babe in shorts to join you, and there you have- The Complete Recipe'; The Comprehensive "Transformers" experience.
P.S- When the lights were switched-on at the 'assumed' interval, the guy sitting beside me looked at me and said- "Wow, man. That's a mighty impressive face tattoo. Respect"
The "tattoo" was actually a network of veins on my forehead, standing taut and about to pop
==============================
With such a bitter after-taste, I said to myself- " 'Ek Villain' can NOT be worse", and walked into the theater.
In the first ten minutes, I had come to the conclusion that this movie's infinitely more enjoyable if seen with the psycho-sexual subtext. Here's a husband who limps, in every possible way, in front of his wife and compensates for this alpha-male emasculation by plunging something long and hard inside other ladies. Here it is a screw-driver, but it could very well be a phallic symbol for... you know.
Sidhharth Malhotra might never get over the fact that his only achievement could be exuding an 'Alok Nath' kind of amiable warmth on-screen, with the milk-of-human-kindness in his bosom. Here, you could practically taste the straining and huffing he does to get into the character of a tough guy. Sincere effort, but as they say- no cigar.
And I might sound like a tough oak here, but for a victim who dies in the first five minutes of the movie, it's actually Shraddha Kapoor who kills the movie. And not in a good way. The relentless chatter she unleashes on us is supposed to create the mental picture of a sweet-melancholy girl. But the image it manages to create is that of Arnab Goswami in drag.
But Riteish does take you by surprise. And the credit goes to Mohit Suri here, for casting him against type. In fact, everybody seems to be cast against type except, of course, Kamaal R Khan, who's as obnoxious here as that lecher journalist in Asshiqui-2.(Spelling mistake, deliberate)
After watching these three movies, I could recall another famous scene from yet another movie, where a character sitting in the darkness, would be glum-fully asking to himself- "Hum jeeyein, ki nahin jeeyein?"