An intellectually bankrupt director who, in all probabilities, masturbates to the likes of Vishal Bhardwaj and Tigmanshu Dhulia.
A script that promises to go places in bits but never actually does.
A male lead forced down the throats of the audience - no pun intended - with changes of heart faster than you can bat an eyelid. Imagine a pathetic Irrfan Khan in a Sonu Sood avatar. Langda Tyagi meets Ricky Bahl meets Shaktiman. Someone who can pronounce the 'z' in Parvez flawlessly but can't differentiate Zoya from Joya.
A wannabe female lead who isn't sure what she's all about and ends up being a cross between Anushka Sharma, Farida Jalal and Mamta Kulkarni.
A Gauhar Khan trying her best to do a Sushmita Sen and failing miserably.
Pseudo real-life characters.
Extraordinarily fake desi dialogues. ('Ye generator ki behen ke saath kaun bhaag gaya.' followed by another reference to the same sibling in the very next line.)
Third grade supporting characters. Cost-cutting, YRF?
Typical YRF costumes on the lady with bosom closeups galore in trademark 0.8x reel speed.
More bullets fired than Border and Saving Private Ryan combined. Quite strangely though, the only corpse that falls is the protagonist's weirdly self-righteous mother!
More bullets fired than Border and Saving Private Ryan combined. Quite strangely though, the only corpse that falls is the protagonist's weirdly self-righteous mother!
Superlative background score and the title track.
An anti-climax just for the heck of it that does nothing but evokes a 'Acha chutiya banaya beta!'
Summing up, go watch Ishaqzaade if you want to watch idiots talking about Copper Sulphate when their asses should ideally be on fire.
Main pareshan, pareshan, pareshan, pareshan!
