Cast: Nasser Khan, Milind Soman, Sonali Kulkarni
Direction: Rohit Nayyar
I know you won’t see this film. Neither will this film’s hero. Ok, that’s a third-rate joke, in ridiculously poor taste. I’m sorry, I take it back.
I just hope the theatre-owners will be kind enough not to take this film back anytime soon. I saw every nearly scene of it, completely sober, and with my eyes wide open. I heard every dialogue. And yet I had to seek help from reliable sources to figure its story line.
A home minister wants to kill off builders in the city, for no explained reason. In a surest statement on global recession, an MBA-grad, who says he works as a peon (“Garibi”), approaches this minister with phone number of an international hit-man Arjun Sherawat (blind leading man Nasser Khan; yeah!).
The minister assigns the hit-man, the inevitable task. Builders keep getting bumped off one after another. A TV journalist-cum-item-dancer (Hrishita Bhatt) is invited beforehand, each time, to cover the killings. The news-station ups its ratings. That MBA-grad becomes the minister’s secretary. Arjun Sherawat remains a mystery. Don’t question more. The script’s not the point.
Our blind hero is. From a side-profile, he could pass off for the popular image of Dawood Ibrahim. Hit-man by night, car-mechanic by day, he has hot girls asking him out for coffee, which he couldn’t care less about. A strikingly obese cop (Sonali Kulkarni), who also doubles up as cabaret dancer, falls for the “man who can’t see in real life, but will see in reel life.”
This beautiful woman’s offer he can’t resist. They take off to the beaches, for an instant romantic number. You’ll notice, special attention has been paid to the background score of this picture, for personal pleasure of the person who’s funded it, of course.
Nasser is originally, I’m told, a rich leather exporter from Kanpur. He speaks an adorable Hyderabadi twang. His well-wishers probably told him he resembles Rajesh Khanna in his 40s, though his dialogue enunciation is more like Manoj Kumar on sedatives. He moves to Bhangra beats, with two helpers by his sides, and silver stones between his glass-frames. He walks slow but steady, and of course, jumps out of a water-scooter, gets on to a racing bike, drives a slick car through fire...
All this would’ve made for perfect entertainment, was this a circus — an art-form we unfortunately lost to capitalism and cinema in the late ’80s. No harm still.
We know several people with better eye-sights, and worse on-screen delusions about themselves. We know many others with 6/6 vision, who can’t see a half-decent film through. This one’s a rare, courageous masterpiece, no doubt. Someone’s dared to make it. I dare you to sit through it, really.