We've become blasé about sex in Bollywood, but back then, this felt edgy and dangerous. One year before the game-changing Murder, Jism coloured Bollywood's traditional, chaste plots, with unapologetic lust. Anupama Chopra writes.
But neither a feminine nor masculine gaze can combine intense passion with such a ridiculous story. For an erotic film, everyone talks way too much. Of course, we get love-making, Leone's bare back and ample cleavage. But the Bhatts - Mahesh and Pooja - also want to unveil some deeper truth about men, women and their obsessions with each other. So Jism 2 plays out like an unintentionally funny fever dream. Kabir is a sort of artist-assassin. He plays the cello and sings mournfully. He quotes Faiz to Izna and says lines like, Mausam guzar jaate hain, yaad nahin guzarti. Hooda is a fine actor but here he seems to be emoting for all three of them. Leone, who is very pretty, clearly wasn't cast for her acting skills, but honestly, she's not bad. She wisely finds a sort of half-bewildered, half-heavy breathing expression and then stays with it. When the emotion becomes too complex for her to handle, Pooja cuts to the back of her head.
Jism 2 should have been way more fun than this. The film is an anti-climactic let-down. We used to have a word in college for experiences like this: I can't use it here but I think you know what I mean.