The biggest puzzle in the public domain, besides the question why President Obama chose to mouth SRK's lines from DDLJ (and not from My Name Is Khan) is, why does a sensible intelligent man like Vikram Bhatt choose to write such stupid shiver givers?
Khamoshiyan makes you shiver. But not in fear. It just makes you shake in embarrassment for all the ghosts and spirits who are so royally snubbed and insulted by such travesties of terror. Maybe the spiritual world could sue for defamation.
And then there should be an added penalty for wasting three talented young hopeful actors looking for a break. All Khamoshiyan gives them is a pathetic plot where creaky doors and spooky apparitions get more playing time than the actors who have to look scared and shattered when they are probably laughing behind the camera wondering who in this day and age believes in such moronic mumbo-jumbo.
Not the progressive Mahesh Bhatt for sure. Why Mr Bhatt who has made some of the most path-breaking films in recent times would choose to back something so shrouded in the raga of the regressive is beyond comprehension.
But all is not lost. There is a brand new version in this fearful film of the Khemchand Prakash composed classic 'Aayega Aanewala' which launched the career of Lata Mangeshkar as the voice of the nation.
I am not too sure what the Bhatts (bros Mahesh Mukesh and their protÃ©gÃ© Vikram) mean to achieve by mocking the melody from the film Mahal in this way. Whatever their motive t, he shopping-mahal version of 'Aayega Aanewala' only serves to remind us how far the ghost drama has strayed from its original purpose of creating a world where the tenable and attainable cross one another's world in pursuit of love and fulfillment.
In Khamoshiyan the protagonists snub the spirit and focus on the body. Debutant Sapna Pabbi playing a hotel receptionist with a serious facial twitch and body itch leads both the men not so gently in bedded perdition. We see Sapna and Ali Fazal kissing, writhing, moaning and...umm... erupting. We see Sapna and Gurmeet Choudhary kissing, writing....you get the picture? Same-to-same.
Sex never looked more boring.
These are three bodies with no claim to a soul, grappling with a script in a power-piqued film that mocks every sensible rule of filmmaking. All the fearsome threesome does is make out in different locations and positions. Maybe they thought they were shooting for a condom ad. The characters certainly need protection....From the onslaught of idiocy that assails them from every nook of this misguided thriller, more idiotic than erotic, with a female protagonist who is more neurotic than enigmatic.
By the time we come to the....ahem....climax, we are past caring about these three abandoned souls. To their credit the three actors manage to look appealing in spite of their unsavoury circumstances. Ali Fazal playing a writer with a block tries to enjoy the suffering...Somewhere you feel the character's pain has been superseded by the actor's agony. Sapna Pabbi has a gamine-like charm which this film tries to turn into a pub-house of horny antics. Better luck next time, Sapna.
Pabbi is not just miscast she is mess-cast.
As for debutant Gurmeet Choudhary, he definitely has a screen presence. One wishes he had chosen for his film debut a script that respected the audiences' intelligence and tolerance level.
How long can you watch three good-looking people doing the dumbest of things in the misguided hope that they would scare you with their propensity to think with their private parts in public places.
After a while you just wish they would keep it in their pants.