Jul 17, 2003 01:32 PM
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(Updated Jul 17, 2003 01:32 PM)
Long, long ago in Punjab, there lived a lad going by the name Hari. He would go to his nearest cinema hall (bunking school, of course) and watch the Papa of all Punjabis -Dharampapaji - bash up the villains and romance the ladies. One day Hari decided that he was going to be a filmmaker. He went to his saga (real) papaji and announced his decision to him.
Hari: Papji, main bambai jaana chahta hoon (Dad, I want to go to Bombay).
Papaji: Ja puttar, zaroor ja. Bambai badi soni city hai. Teri chuttiyan achchi beetengi (Go son. Bombay is a beautiful city. You’ll enjoy your vacations there).
Hari: Nahin papaji, main vahan rehkar, philmein banana chahta hoon (No dad. I want to go there and become a filmmaker).
Papaji thought hard about the matter. He looked at his puttar (son) and finally said:
Papaji: Hari, tu bewajah philum banana chahta hai (Hari, it doesn’t make sense. Why on earth do you want to make films?)
Hari did not listen to his papaji. He went to Bombay and soon became a director. But all along, he wanted to change his name. Hari, he thought was not a worthy name for a great director like him. But what would the new name be? That was a million dollar (the amount that he’s wasted on his films so far) question. Just when he was about to can the first shot of his first film, his papaji’s words echoed clearly in his ears. “Hari tu bewajah philum banana chahta hai.” That did it. The renaming predicament was resolved. Hari may not make films with a reason (bewajah), but he had finally got himself a new name – Harry Baweja. And true to his name, Harry Baweja has made a string of bewajah movies like “Karz”, “Deewane”, “Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar” (as producer) and now, the calamitous – “Qayamat”.
“Bewajah I invited doomsday!”
This is what I had to say when I went emerged from the cinema hall showing Qayamat (meaning doomsday). Writing a review on Qayamat is revisiting the trauma I had inflicted on myself last weekend.
From somewhere, some green looking, deadly virus has been smuggled into India. It falls into the hands of Sanjay Kapoor (as constipated as ever – no wonder he sang ‘aati nahin’ in an equally bizarre ‘Prem’), Arbaaz Khan (as wooden as ever), and Isha Koppikar (few more films like these and she’ll be ‘khallas’). A good patriotic Muslim CBI officer - played by Suneil Shetty (he thinks by inserting an ‘e’ to Sunil, he’s going to make it as an actor – eeeeeeeeeeeks) - decides to foil the plan of these hooligans who have kidnapped amongst 200 odd tourists, Riya Sen (someone please tell this bimbette to stop acting – neither beautiful nor talented, she resembles one of the dancers of Chandni Bar – I apologize for insulting them). Elphinstone Jail is the venue where bimbette and company are held hostage. The hooligans demand some thousands of crores and a ship that will take them to the abode of terrorists – Pakistan (where else?). Otherwise, they squeak, we will contaminate your lakes with this greeny-slimy virus and destroy tumchi Mumbai. Easier said than done. Suneil takes the help of a criminal serving a sentence – Ajay Devgan (of the tilted head and monosyllabic utterances fame). Ajay has a score or two to settle with the hooligans. In between, there is a bikni-clad, ugly female – Neha Dhupia (who so desperately tries to look beautiful, who so desperately tries to emote etc etc etc). And then the fun begins (my own private one, sillies). By the time Ajay reaches Elphinstone jail and starts his practice for the Olympic Games (see him jump and heave in the climax), I’ve gorged on three packets of chips, four samosas, two sandwiches, and two bottles of Coke. Delicious fare (the goodies and not the film dumbos) – loved each and every bit of it.
As far as the film goes, it was a veritable qayamat.
Performances: Excuse me? What’s that?
Action: Straight from TNT cartoon network.
Script: Mad or what?
Music: Nadeem-Shravan commit another crime (probably more heinous than the famous T-Series tamasha).
Direction: Papaji was so right. “Hari, tu bewajah philum banana chahta hai “
Analyzing each and every component of this bewajah masterpiece would mean desperately seeking more snacks and putting on oodles of weight. So, I think it would be better if I stop here.
But yes, do read another eulogy on good old Hari: https://mouthshut.com/readreview/29959-1.html
Comments are most welcome.
