Mishawr Rawhoshyo is an extravagant manifestation of the much hyped terminology, 'bhinno dharar Bangla Cinema'. Born out of a mediocre director's mediocre vision of a misplaced sense of tribute to Sunil Babu, it's an epic misadventure of epic proportions. Prosenjit's desperate attempts to salvage some positives for this dreadful film is floundered by the clumsy narrative, shoddy editing, deafening background score and miserably inadequate punchlines, bordering on juvenile humour and moralising pedantry. Aryan as the wise-ass History Channel addict, Santu, is a terrible miscast. He mumbles, rumbles, fumbles and tumbles with agonising unease. Just as SRK's grandad cockblocks him in Chennai Express, Kakababu lipblocks his nephew's anticipated liplock. dustu Santu and misti Rini's dustu-misti prem is extraneously pointless but not as annoying as the product placements in the film, ranging from achaar to pain balms. Don't miss Santu's London-lettered Union Jack t-shirt as he breezes past a radical AISA poster at JNU. Neel and Swastika appear as disposable and utterly dispensable vestigial organs throughout the film. Rajit Kapoor, one of the finest actors back in the 90s, is reduced to a babbling, redundantly unmenacing caricature of a lamebrain dolt. Indraneil, despite his enraged snarls and growls, remains exasperatingly stone-faced expressionless. The VFX in certain scenes are strongly reminiscent of Chandrakanta and Alif Laila, and the slow-mo face-off between Joyraj and Bumba Da is so painfully superslow that, for a moment, it gives the impression of a video cassette stuck in a VCR. A tour-de-farce with alarming Orientalist stereotyping and potentially dangerous historical concoction.
No comments:
Post a Comment