Review: You’ll go baap re baap
Priyadarshan’s Mere Baap Pehle Aap is harrowing enough to send you weeping into the arms of your own baap, crying, "Dad, please stop them". Khalid Mohamed examines...Updated: Jun 14, 2008 03:12 IST
Mere Baap Pehle Aap
Cast: Paresh Rawal, Akshaye Khanna, Genelia D’ Souza
Believe you this, you can almost see their tonsils. They yell, scream, shout, shriek, and break the sound barrier. No one speaks in Mere Baap Pehle Aap, everyone goes so ballistic that you hope your ears don’t fall off like autumn leaves.
Priyadarshan’s Mere Baap etc – remade from Sibi Malayil’s Malayalam 2001 hit Ishtam — is harrowing enough to send you weeping into the arms of your own baap, crying, “Dad, please stop them.” Here are the main reasons why you’d want to do that:
Om Puri does a Salman Khan: Omji removes his shirt to reveal a no-pack for the longest while. You want to cover him up with a shawl. Comedy is fine but a half Monty, no, no, no, no. Rajpal Yadav is slapped, hit, punched: You suspect that the director doesn’t like him.
Archana Puran Singh plays angry woman cop: No comments except that she coins a new abuse, “You urine of a lizard.” Oiks.
Genelia D’Souza returns to Bombay movies: As a girl, who plays pranks because guys played pranks on her in college, indicates severe psychological disorder. Also, could she stop playing around with her hair? Instead, act.
Shobhana’s here too: Why recruit the fine actress to portray a doormat? She never speaks, only sings ragas. Not even remixed.
Akshaye Khanna can overact outrageously: Some master screamer, he. He wants his 60ish widower dad to marry Shobhana the Speechless Wonder. Oddly, this Akshaye the screamer runs a stadium-sized house without half a domestic help, and makes dad do the cooking, jhadoo and bartan cleaning. What kind of a son is this? Naseeruddin Shah shows up in a guest role to tell Akshaye that he’s very handsome. Wow, Akshaye beams like a lighthouse.
Paresh Rawal strives to be cool: He’s the best aspect (not saying much but still) of this ear-attack. He keeps watering the lawn (an excuse for a toilet joke, natch), dyes his hair crow black, listens to Dev Anand songs, and is generally kicked around like a football till the screenplay allows him to cast a melting gaze at old flame Shobhana. Cut to the chase, dad.
Irritants galore: Wildly tacky sets out of the 1980s, unhummable music, and sleepy cinematography which wakes up only to film some snazzy shots of a Kerala boat race.
Priyadarshan, sir, a humble request: Review your own movie like everyone’s doing nowadays. And chances are that even you’ll go baap re baap.