Cast: Anil Kapoor, Salman Khan, Govinda, John Abraham, Akshaye Khanna, Juhi Chawla, Priyanka Chopra, Vidya Balan, Ayesha Takia, Sohail Khan, Ishaa Koppikar
Direction: Nikhil Advani
Get this. Someone actually says: “Life is not about whom you love but the amount of time you have spent with someone you love.” Head clanger? Yup, and that’s entirely in keeping with the rest of Nikhil Advani’s Salaam-e-Ishq, which, at the frightening length of three hours and 35 minutes, has no salaams at all and absolutely no ishq. Forget vishq.
Possibly one of the most higgledy-piggledy written scripts in recent times, Advani’s compendium effort features a dozen odd characters whom you wish you never ever meet in a stuck elevator. Shudder.
Still want to check them out? Woes, here goes: Priyanka Chopra is an item girl who has Tinnu Anand as her secretary and Salman Khan as her mystery lover. Delicious thought: what if Tinnu and Salman had switched roles?
Akshaye Khanna wants to get married, no he doesn’t, yes yes, no no, to Ayesha Takia, maybe because she’s wearing too much make-up. Govinda is driving from Agra to Delhi, with a white woman whom he adores just the way heroes have in Lagaan and Rang De Basanti. Maybe he just wants to go to the Oscars.
Then, Anil Kapoor wants to have a fling with a salsa sweetie when his wife Juhi Chawla isn’t looking.
Since he dances Travolta style in a disco meant for just-born babies, he’s rushed to hospital. Message: if you’re over 40 don’t boogie.
Then, let’s see. Vidya Balan who has this very wonderful name — Tehzeeb — gets amnesia and doesn’t remember she once married John Abraham. Silly girl. And ooh yeah, there’s an other Khan who’s constantly trying to consummate his marriage with Isha Koppikar.
Wouldn’t anyone really?
Inconsistently photographed by Piyush Shah, drably choreographed (whenever it be comes dull, flash cuts are a must), and about as original as a Xerox machine, here’s a major disappointment.
There isn’t a single original bone in the screenplay’s body which snatches elements from Love, Actually, Dance With Me, Piya Ka Ghar, you name it, you got it.
After much ado, the stories come together, leaving you wondering what on earth the fuss was all about anyway.
Advani keeps referring to Karan Johar throughout the vast length of this snoozer. If he was settling a score with Johar or working out some personal psycho-therapy all you can say, is please grow up Mr Advani. Spare us the Salaam-e-Eeks.