Or, more precisely, Karan Johar does it again. He has taken a cliched plot, soon-to-be washed up actors, ridiculously lame jokes and unoriginal catch-phrases from How I Met Your Mother and dished out two-and-a-half hours of pure and unadulterated crap.
He calls this soporific, brain-damaging spiel ‘I Hate Luv Storys’ – a phenomenon that I had the misfortune of watching last night.
Here’s what happens in the 135-minute joy-ride from Hell:
(Relax – ignore the spoilers, you’re not missing anything worthwhile)
There’s this guy, see, who’s disgustingly like Barney Stinson from HIMYM – he’s against the concept of love and he wants to sleep with a new woman each night. He considers the age-old concept of love as lame and does not want any part of it. Ironically, he works as an assistant to a Bollywood movie-director who specializes in just this of crappy movies. So, here ends the interesting part of the movie. Before it begins.
He meets a girl, who falls in love with him. He says he doesn’t want to fall in love. I think he hides the fact that he’s ridiculously and unbelievably gay, but that hasn’t been shown in the movie. He rejects her advances – which is strange, because when he first meets her, all he’s thinking of is how beautiful she is and how he can get into those pants of hers. Anyway, contradicting plot lines are the backbone of this crapoweseome* movie.
And then, as with all the other slipshod Bollywood movies, the hero (or rather, the actor-playing-the-lead-role) realizes that he’s lost his mojo and can’t get it up with any other woman, and all he thinks about is this chick. So, he decides to fall in love lest he spend the rest of his ‘manhood’ making love only to himself and the ever-present girls-gone-wild video that seems to be playing on constant loop in his room. (How bizarre)
He tell her that he loves her and now, its her turn to bitch-slap him and walk away. Aww, the poor sod is all heart-broken and decides to follow the chick all the way to New Zealand, in the hopes of scoring with her. But he realizes that the chick has agreed to marry some other loser named Raj, who wears atrocious shirts that look like something a cat dragged in, pooped on it and dry-humped your neighbor’s barbie doll on. So, our hero (or rather, the loser-who-plays-the-actor-who-plays-the-lead-role) decides to be generous and let her be taken by his nemesis.
And, just when he seems to settle down in his head, resigned to his fate of returning home to live with his insanely liberal mother (who, it seemed, would appreciate the beauty and charisma in anything from a sordid threesome to a full-blown monkey orgy) and marry some girl that she’s chosen for him, fate delivers the knock-out punch – his flight gets delayed and he realizes that he’s not in a Bollywood movie but rather in Paulo Coelho’s Alchemist, interpreting each and every coincident as a ‘sign’ from the ‘ooparwala’.
He runs back to the chick, tells her he loves her, and this time, amazingly, she says yes. Apparently, by this time, she has realized her mistake – she did not want to spend the rest of her life smelling of cat poop.
They hug, they kiss, the movie ends and the audience pukes.
There you have it – fresh from Karan Johar’s box of unbecoming movie ideas that he cooked up while getting drunk with four hot guys from Canberra who took turns in showing him exactly how handsome he is. Well, serves him right. Inox and PVR theaters all over the country are smelling of vomit and they have decided to shut down for a day to clean up the mess, under the pretext of the Bharat Bundh today.
My rating: Minus 34.5 / 10
*Crapowesome: A word that I invented while writing this post. This means an awesome amount of crap filled into a very small space, to the point of overflowing. It’s an adjective.