OMG Oh My God

Such antiquated antics truly. A glib salesman trades a clay Lord Krishna statue for gold, claiming it to be centuries-old. And then hell breaks loose, forcing the glib guy’s screws to go loose. An earthquake later, his shop’s destroyed, he claims insurance but is told to prove that the quake wasn’t an act of God. Oh lord!

Contriving a conflict between a rational agnostic and gargoyle-like godmen, OMG Oh My God is the sort of exercise that compels you to quit believing in Bollywood cinema. Hey, if this is supposed to be entertainment, then you might as well pray for its rescue from the lowest depths it’s fast sinking into. Honestly, the outcome’s a punishment. Bhavesh Mandalia’s popular Gujarati play Kanji Viruddh Kanji — also a house full draw in Hindi as Krishan vs Kanhaiya — should have remained a theatrical experience. On screen, it is much too self-consciously clever. Worse, it is so raucously narrated that you wish you had vegetated instead on your couch. Home shanti home really.
Presumably, Paresh Rawal who has pulled in enormous crowds at every stage show of Krishan vs Kanhaiya was convinced that its film adaptation was a sure bet commercially. Not surprisingly, the actor’s billed as co-producer and is supported by star prop Akshay Kumar. Plus, there’s the item number Go Govinda featuring Prabhu Deva with Sonakshi Sinha who shows off a pair of two left feet. Ms Sinha’s dance moves are close to pathetic. Yikes.
Ms Sinha is the least of your grouses though. Woe. The plot premise of a divine power descending upon a middle class household was attempted in the Sanjeev Kumar fantasy drama Yehi Hai Zindagi (1971) and more lately in God Tussi Great Ho (2012) which was quite openly indebted to the Jim Carrey comedy Bruce Almighty (2003). The point is that the kernel of the story has been sampled before, including the twist about a common man turning into an overnight, rhetoric-spewing messiah for the janta (Meet John Doe, 1941). Indeed, there’s nothing fresh about OMG, except for its awkward acronymed title. Trendy? Hardly.
Evidently, the purported message is that blind faith prevails. Streetside temples suddenly mushroom in the midst of crowded Mumbai streets, godmen — grotesquely caricatured here — claim to perform miracles and go on faux hungerstrikes. Seers of milk offered to deities are discarded into sewers. And at shrines, disciples donate their hair, which is actually sold to international wig-makers. The dialogue gets wacky at this point, stating that dandruffed hair is accepted too! Hair-o-lious!
Now, criticism about the exploitation of religion is more than valid, but certainly not with the jingoistic attitude adopted by the script and Umesh Shukla’s mediocre direction. When issue-oriented cinema offers no new information and insight, it’s as redundant as a paint without a brush.
Indeed, there’s something put-on about the dramaturgy right from the outset. The aforecited Kanjibhai (Paresh Rawal) pulls his moppet son away from a Govinda a la re melee, scoffs at his puja-paath wife. And what do you know? The agnostic even spends evenings with a crony (Dazed Expression), guzzling Scotch, the emblem of wickedness. Eeesh.
Next: after the shop’s devastation, the insurance chief, sporting a Rawlex (wazzzat?) wrist watch shows Kanjibhai the door. And the next thing you know is that K bhai has contacted a Muslim lawyer (viva secularism!) who lost his legs in a riot. Vakil miyan (Om Puri), supervised by a tragic-looking daughter (Sombre Kumari), files a plea in high court against the Rawlex agency as well as a group of godpeople who have to be seen to be disbelieved. Count among them Mithun Chakraborty as an oddly effeminate, limp-wristed miracle man. Cut to Govind Namdeo as a bananaholic (big fat green ones), a mulla (snow-bearded, wallah!), and tee hee hee, a woman who possesses a violently red sari, which she never changes, come hell or high water. Throughout, the production values are shockingly tacky.
The high court accepts the case, K bhai is considered Kool by everyone from TV anchor-cuties to coffee lounge kids, and most of all, by Lord Krishna (Akshay Kumar), who arrives in a designer hair-cut on a dhoom-machao-dhoom mobike. Next: The Lord moves into Kool Kanji’s posh chawl apartment, and guides the beleagured bhai through every department of life-’n’-strife. To prevent spoiler alert, best to screech to a halt, except to say that for a montage ballad Akshay Kumar launches into what looks like a by-sunrise magazine photo-session. Oh shoot!
Technically, whoever handled the final visual colour grading either believes in psychedelia or a mithai-box look. The editing is old-worldly, including a jejune split-screen. Vis-à-vis the music score, keep the ear-plugs handy.
Of the cast, Paresh Rawal presides. He’s all gung-ho and plays Kanjibhai on two notes — either exasperated or more exasperated. Come to think of it, OMG Oh My God also leaves you with you the same quotient. Unsolicited advice: rosary beads would be infinitely more relaxing.