Kidnapped and forced to watch Kidnap

(Fade in )

It started innocently enough.

The boys wanted to eat Chinese at Inorbit mall.

The missus wanted a footlong Sub, which, and this is beside the point - I am not admitting or denying anything - which always makes me wonder if she is trying to tell me SOMETHING, if you know what I mean. Ouch! Said more than I intended to. Forget it was ever spoken.

Where was I? Ah, yes. Well, I was unanimously elected as chauffeur and chief cashier, roles that I am not unaccustomed to.

We marched therein in a file formation and before I knew what was happening, the file formation headed towards the multiplex.

I have a sixth sense about these things. Don't ask me how, I just KNEW. They were dragging me to a movie again.

I instinctively turned and fled but the pack was on to me in a flash. Bringing me down in a football tackle, they sat on my chest and strapped me into the strait jacket.

My wrists securely manacled and a leash put around my neck, they dragged me to screen 1.

(Fade out)

How do you like that? Some scenario, huh? They all say, from Scorsese to Spielberg, that the best scripts are the true stories. This one, to tell you the truth, happened. I am just back from a screening of the movie "Kidnap". I survived.

To give credit where it is due, I must acknowledge that the script had some kind of story line. Most unusual for a Hindi movie, but there you are. And a fairly interesting one, at that. But the director, a charlie who rejoices in the name of Gadhvi (Gaadhav is donkey in Marathi. Gaadhvi is an affectionate term for a female donkey) fixed that.

Few of us have the good fortune to be what our surnames say. For instance, I know a guy named Thakur who, far from oppressing village belles and twirling handlebar mustaches, writes code in C++ and stands 4 feet 10 in his socks. His idea of oppressing village belles, if at all such temerity should seize him, would be to steal a chocolate from them and hide. Which is neither here nor there. Get to the point buster. Right.

As I was saying, Mr.Gadhvi is singular in this respect, that he is everything his surname says. He is more like a donkey than most donkeys, including Karan Johar, and offers ample evidence in his dexterous directorial skills. I am not Francis Ford Coppola (though most people wouldn't guess), but I couldn't have done a worse job if I was a typewriter mechanic and the movie a Cray supercomputer.

In the murder of the script, he is ably assisted by Minisha Lamba who plays a girl of eighteen but has all the youthful look of a prematurely aged Cher, and Vidya Malwade, who plays her mother (but looks way hotter than her) with the histrionics that would normally be reserved for "Hamlet". Sanjay Dutt is impressive as usual. I find his personality awesome. But he couldn't act to save a dying grandmother, one of the immutable laws of nature, the others being Newton's three.

The only dude who slipped through the rigorous scrutiny of Mr. Gadhvi and gang is Imran Khan. This guy can act, and act well. He carries the script almost single handedly though Gadhvi introduces bloopers with admirable regularity.

On the whole, I think I enjoyed the movie, for the story as much as the reaction of my sons.

"Dad, that Vidya Malwade really reminds us of mom"

Sheela, blushing "Really?"

"Yes, Amma. When she is yelling at Minissha Lamba for wanting to stay out late, she has that look you have when you tell us we can't play X-box"

Dagger looks.


Post script - A much better review than mine can be found here. I give a little extract below

"Sanjay Gadhvi not count as much logic as appropriate. He shows a captive market, Minissha Lamba fashionably dressed in comfortable clothes so thin that they would be distracting and moody kidnapped again and again. And in the audience, you are completely empathize with the boy. Throughout his captivity, Minissha's character is firmly focused on his dresses, there are those cleavage-flaunting coats or hot pants with shimmering belly chains to bootable".

On the delicate issue of re-sizing

I met an old friend the other night. We had the customary celebration but I could sense that there was something amiss. It wasn't anything at work, I could fathom that. He is a man of substantial means. Could it be his family? I doubted it. His wife is a most charming lady and his only son an exceptionally bright young lad.

After much hemming and hawing, and several large drinks, he told me all. It seems his son is passionately fond of food and is expanding in all directions. They've been trying to get him on a diet and some kind of exercise routine, but it doesn't seem to be working too well.

"If only I could get someone who can be firm with him and make him stick to his diet....." he told me and asked me if I could have a word with him. I agreed, of course, and gave the lad a little talk, but I doubt it will have any significant effect

What I think my friend needs is an heir compressor.