Phew! Sometimes the lonely experience of sitting through sub-nadir movies becomes as difficult to describe in words, as it is to digest visually: a large, wobbly screen merely shifting from one bland song on a grand location to another. Try concentrating for more than a few minutes, and you'd prefer the garbage on the Ash-Abhi wedding instead.
Between the showreels set in the sandy shores or streets of South Africa, appear few dialogues on ambition, unrequited love, friendship and separation; also, two eve-teaser friends of the hero who hop around hitting on white women and getting slapped all around. Once, they even claim to be casting directors of Yashraj Films at a night-club. They look straight toward the camera thereafter to say sorry to 'Yash uncle'. Never mind!
Corporate executives, even bureaucrats, are known to mix vacation with work as they head off to 'off-site meetings' at exotic tourist places.
Producers, especially ones with loads of cash to spare, may be no different. I wouldn't be shocked if this flick was an outcome of a verbal narration merely on a flight to Jo'burg: A young, innocent girl meets a nice, sincere, laid-back boy; but yearns for a go-getter as the man of her life. She finds the latter, but eventually prefers the former.
Kya love story hai! Wah, we found the film's title too, the producer may have burped after a few glasses of wine 30,000 feet above sea level. He'd never heard such an idea before. Even if he had, the screenplay wasn't the purpose of this sad music compilation anyway.
So, Takia is the girl, doing disservice to her lately revealed talents. Kapoor is the good boy, making a lame, lovelorn monkey of himself; despite discovering comedy as his strongest forte. And then, there's the tall, well-built, rude stud-man in Ray Ban Aviator glasses as the over-achiever, obsessed with his family business. Dry conversations on cell-phone leave him little time for the girlfriend.
But for that one freakishly wild sequence, where he turns up chained in thick iron, while Takia and her troupe dance around him in olive-green uniform.
I'm almost certain this gentleman paid his way to the proverbial 'launch-pad'. Audiences must be paid to watch this delirium. I could do with a fair raise for these two hours as well.