Malamaal, weakly

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Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal

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Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal.JPG [2]

Q: What do Priyadarshan and Doordarshan have in common?
A: They both need to re-invent themselves, and faaast.

Priyadarshan sir, whenever he takes off for village excursions, organises an ensemble troupe which, frankly, blow your brains to smithereens. And he’s at it again with his sequel to Malamaal Weekly which is inappropriately titled Kamaal Dhamaal Malamaal. No dhamaal or kamaal here, sorry, as for Malamaal it is highly suspect that this intended chuckle-raiser will earn a heap of big bucks. Er… I’m no trade analyst (whatever “analyst” means) but just wanted to report the fact that I watched it with an audience of 10, out of which eight were in the last row corner seats, engaged in a lovefest. The ushers held out for a while, till decamping, leaving me utterly desolate, as if I were stranded on a desert island.
Maybe it was just this one show at Mumbai’s Big Cinema Metro auditorium that was empty. For Priyadarshan sir’s sake, I sincerely hope that viewers flock to KDM to tote those multi-crore weekend collections. Why? Because sir, admittedly, is a superior technician, his design chief Sabu Cyril is infallibly A-grade, and there is something quite lovely about the ruralscapes with great old, barren trees and bazaars packed with vibgyor vegetables. Visually, your eyes aren’t assaulted by tackynicolour.
Alas, the story content is a mega-mess. Insufferably, Priyadarshan remains fixated with remakes, in this case a retelling of the Malayalam hit (I presume) of Marykundoro Kunjaado. Right in the centrepoint of the retread, there’s Johnny Belinda (Shreyas Talpade). Huh, Johnny Belinda did I hear? Someone obviously knows his Hollywood movies out there. The name is a harkback to a 1948 tear-jerker about a raped deaf-mute woman being treated by a very compassionate doctor. Er… this Johnny is neither deaf-mute nor is he a doc. He’s just a bad-for-nothing, a parasite on his father (Om Puri), who keeps yelling at the top of his voice as if he were auditioning for the supporting vocals of a Led Zep concert. Distressed Dad, it is suspected, one night has jumped into a well out of sheer throat problems. Aaaargh, yaaaargh etc.
Oh oh, Johnny Belinda boy rushes to the well. No dad here. Lol and behold, he pulls out a super-duper deadpan stranger (Nana Patekar), who for some reason has a fetish for devouring a hundred parathas soaked in sambhar (or fried daals). Like the Godman Govind Namdeo (in OMG), Stranger has a major appetite for bananas also. Is there some trend burgeoning here?
Be that as it may, Stranger like Shane from the eponymous classic Western, brings about catacylismic changes in every man, woman and insect in the vicinity. Result: It may just be possible for the bad-for-nothing dude to marry his Richie Juliet (Madhurima Bannerjee, niiiice). And for Om Puri to agree that he’s old enough to portray Nana Patekar’s father. By the way, for some down-to-earth moments, Stranger keep digging graves as if in preparation to shoot a Nightmare on Paratha Street.
Constantly, Johnny Bol Belinda Bol talks his skull off. He has to since he has to deal with a motley crew, including an old matron with whom he lands up in bed (not to worry, she’s interested, he isn’t). The others in Priyadarshanpur include Asrani sa’ab playing an affronted priest, Paresh Rawal in Hawaiian shirts, not to forget jolly Neeraj Vohra who’s thrilled when anyone dies. Explanation: he makes coffins in the village which is inhabited mostly by the Catholic community. The details of their ethnicity is kept a secret.
Not much of story material here. Vohra’s dialogue attempts to add some corny wisecracks to a vapid script. Example: Stranger says, “I had fallen down!” Someone says, “Really? Oh Jesus!” To which, he growls, “Not Jesus. It was I who fell down.” Huh?
Essentially, this is a platform for Shreyas Talpade to go blah-blah-burp. Sad. The actor, who was so delightfully natural in Iqbal and Dor, goes way over-the-top. Nana Patekar dignifies the enterprise to a degree. As for the rest of the unwieldy cast, they’re just about endurable. Like the rest of this KDM.