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Saawan - The Love Season Review

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"You'll die this Friday." No, that isn't a trade pundit predicting doomsday for this hopelessly loopy and washed-out take on the vagaries of life. That's just the 'desi' Nostradamus, played by Salman Khan, predicting sure-death for the film's pert he
Subhash K. Jha
   Tue, 07 Mar 2006
AUDIENCE

"You'll die this Friday." No, that isn't a trade pundit predicting doomsday for this hopelessly loopy and washed-out take on the vagaries of life. That's just the 'desi' Nostradamus, played by Salman Khan, predicting sure-death for the film's pert heroine (Saloni Aswani).

The film's feverish take on the matters of fate is so hopelessly out of sync with the times, you feel sorry for the perpetrators of this celluloid atrocity.

Poor Salman. He's given the thankless task of shouldering this creative carcass.

Not one word of the dialogue, one frame in the composition of the shots, or one note in Aadesh Shrivastav's music score serves as an incentive to stay put while Saawan Kumar (the 'Souten' specialist) moves from the 'other-woman' theme to the 'shudder-woman' theme.

At some point in this blessedly short piece of 'karmic' junk, Salman smirks, "Why do you treat me like Einstein?"

Er, fortune-telling and Einstein? A bit far-fetched! Every time Salman talks to 'god' we see a cloud-burst on the screen, which could be that popping sound in our head warning us to leave the theatre before the Friday-calamity gets the better of us.

The series of songs in this supernatural bilge adds to the feeling of a director who lost his way long ago.

This could well be Kumar's last film ever. It's so deplorably devoid of a centre that it makes the average Bhojpuri flick look like a Sanjay Leela Bhansali creation.

The two newcomers (Saloni Aswani and Kapil Jhaveri) struggle to look pristine in their plasticity.

Salman, the backbone and the never-centre of this brain-dead romance, looks more real. You can see the actor making a valiant effort to breathe life into the dead film. But it's a losing battle.

The dialogues seem written on the back of chewing-gum wrappings. The pop-philosophy is so laughable, you wonder why over-the-hill filmmakers don't throw in their towels before they are asked to get off.

The fast-fading Johnny Lever and the cross-dressed Bobby Darling try a bit of the funny stuff in this stiff-and-stolid tribute to the 'karmic' cycle.

Salman's character knows exactly when and where catastrophe is about to strike. Wish he had warned us.
Critic: Subhash K. Jha


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