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Review: Chhodon Na Yaar

Chhodon Na Yaar is a very pertinent title. Forget about it, sit at home and watch the ceiling fan whirr or the alley cat purr, avers Khalid Mohamed.
None | By Khalid Mohamed, Mumbai
UPDATED ON OCT 06, 2007 03:02 PM IST

Chhodon Na Yaar
Jimmy Sheirgill, Kim Sharma, Cabaret Legs Mahek
Director: Dilip Virendra Sood
Rating: *1/2

This is a week of very pertinent titles. Chhodon Naa Yaar is right. Forget about it, sit at home and watch the ceiling fan whirr or the alley cat purr. Anything but this strange adaptation of The Blairwitch Project, the docudrama in which eerie events were caught on camera, deaths went unexplained and the outcome was a cult, horror video movie blown up into the big screen format.

So there you are in a Himachal Pradeshi Blairwitch, directed by Dilip Sood, who’s determined not to make you feel good. Three very grown-up college kids (Jimmy Sheirgill and Co) don’t want to make their first film on child labour. Begging your pardon, but what’s wrong with that?

They pooh-pooh such a theme and take off to videograph a pahadi jungle where a poojari makes Kathakali eyes, his assistant beats the drum as if he were Subhash Ghai and straw effigies of naked figures dangle in the air. Despair.

Through those aaaaiee-scream-curdling scenes you’re informed that a girl in a T-shirt was gang-raped. Now, she’s gonna eat everyone alive, with nothing but salt and pepper.

Oddly, the poojari and drummer are spared. Sheirgill’s Rohit Bal look-alike friend dies. Ditto another buddy who speaks in Jat dialect while his dad drinks Patiala pegs of whisky, and looks manically frisky.

For that cabaret interlewd, Mahek shakes a leg (two actually), Kim Sharma sings amidst handloom umbrellas (why can’t someone give her a decent role, yaar?), and Sheirgill waits patiently for the movie to end. Miracle: it does.

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