Review: Life Partner
Given the current crop on desi television lately, was I you, I may actually await this movie on TV. For one, you can turn the volume down at home, a privilege audiences unfortunately can’t enjoy at theatres. Even if everyone’s screaming their lungs out as here, writes Mayank Shekhar.movie reviews Updated: Aug 15, 2009 10:35 IST
Cast: Fardeen Khan, Tushar Kapoor, Govinda
Direction: Rumy Jaffery
Rating: * & 1/2
Given the current crop on desi television lately, was I you, I may actually await this movie on TV. For one, you can turn the volume down at home, a privilege audiences unfortunately can’t enjoy at theatres. Even if everyone’s screaming their lungs out as here. <b1>
You could also take a small snack-break every time the podgy Govinda walks in to the screen. In a movie with Fardeen Khan, the portly, tired Govinda does an irresistible Cassanova act. He appears a cauliflower version of his old self. Yet, white women in South Africa melt at his mere sight. He can bed any blonde that moves. And no, that’s not part of the film’s humour.
The comic bit belongs to Tusshar Kapoor alone. I suppose he’s not credited for it enough, but it’s astounding how this actor has made quite a leading man’s career for himself, delightfully playing a loser in most of his films (Golmaal, Golmaal 2, Gayab, Good Boy Bad Boy). We never knew there was such a slot. Kapoor plays one Bhavesh (should be pronounced ‘Bhaves’), son of a Gujarati pickle trader.
Virginity is a gift he’s carefully preserved for his wife. As his friend puts it, one could think of more precious gifts: diamonds, villa, cars...<b2>
That friend (Fardeen Khan, in top No Entry form), incidentally, is a fast-car, hot-girlfriend sort of guy who Bhavesh takes romance lessons from. The girlfriend (Genelia D’Souza, casually charming) is a bratty daughter of a rich man who changes her artistic profession every other Sunday, from a painter to singer to author. She sucks at all. It doesn’t matter. Daddy funds her lavish launches. Reminds you of the Page 3 parties in our newspapers.
The buddies for most part exchange jokes. As does everyone else in a screenplay written as an excuse to slip in one-liners after another.
Somewhere along the way, the film pushes in a little nugget over Indians (or Gujaratis) settled abroad, who behave more puritanically Indian than even Indians back home. The point is well taken. So are some of the gags.
The two friends get married. ‘Intermission’ is what appears on screen. The second half of the picture reverses genre.
It’s not a comedy anymore. This is when, on TV, you could switch the station to Rakhi Ka Swayamvar or Sach Ka Saamna, or whatever better rubbish that you fancy on the tube these days.