A Royal Pain

Yesterday I saw the movie of the year, CantSeeNomore Royale. MGM brought home Bollywood for me in Connecticut. For once, Hollywood has a hero who prances around like a shirtless Salman Khan and looks like the handsome Tushar Kapoor, all at the same time! I have never been a big fan of these Ian Fleming flicks but during childhood two things used to draw me to these 007 features; first, its title music, dhan dhan tadaaan and second, its whacky gadgets. Two things, again, are pretty much obvious - I am no more a child and that Mr. Bond had a guilty feeling about being a child’s fantasy. Hence, in an era of evolution, global warming and disasters, a chocolate faced Brosnan has given way to a constipated-cockroach lookalike, Daniel Craig. Oh yes, Mr Craig has a nice body but coming near the long weekend his sinews reminded me more of the thanksgiving turkey, skinned and roasted (in the Bahamas sun, if it pleases you).

This is my first blog on a movie and I want it to be scathing. Not for nothing would I want to spend $19.50 and come out of theatre having sensed a déjà vu of having undergone the Torn-chair-naked-sitting-sling-hitting torture that Mr. Bond had to go through at the hands of an eye-bleeding-banker cum gambler cum idiot! Leave that out and you'll hear me talk about what I saw.

This Bond has no gadgets, although he does perform a self invasive cardiac surgery in the loo break that he gets while playing cards and returns to say: “That thing nearly killed me”. Sorry MGM, I plagiarized that dialogue in front of my wife when I came out of the theatre. Sue me!

This Bond too romances girls; only that the so called “Breathtaking beauties” in this flick could as well have been picked up from the Ms. Nalasopara contestants at Chinchpokli, Mumbai. Moreover, in the scene where Eva Green walks in that “breathtaking” gown into the Poker room, I had a hallucination of having seen the director pay $100 bills to the sidekicks in the room for every stare that they were forced to give at her, in erotic “admiration”. The “Oomph” lady slithers around like a 60 year old python (I don’t know if pythons live that long) and plants a million dollar kiss on Mr. Bond while Mr. Villain cries blood tears and I have a strong urge to puke on the empty seat before me.

Now, the plot: In an era of a security conscious world, terrorist leaders zip from Uganda to Miami to Montenegro to Timbuktu to Teliarganj carrying 7 feet long swords, with seamless ease. Mr. Bush and Mr. Blair, you should know why 9/11 occurred. CIA and MI6 agents were busy playing poker while all terrorists banged planes into buildings or trucks into planes. Never again laugh at Indian intelligence agencies. At least, we have stopped calling them “Intelligence” services since we introduced reservations to decide who should play what poker with the country’s security – We call them RAW, pun unintended, for your information. Let’s go back to the movie. This movie seems to be part of some epic. It’s like watching B.R. Chopra’s Mahabharat, where the director assumes you already know who Ghatotkatch is. The villains in this movie seem to be part of some story which was going beyond and before this movie. They keep giving you knowing looks and make you feel ashamed of not knowing what they are doing in this plot. I had this gut feeling that at the end of the movie instead of the credits, the director will flash a message, “Tell me what this movie was all about and win a 2 day 2 night trip to Bahamas with a special bonanza: The all naked Chair Torture”! How disappointing! Mr. Bond's Nokia 3310 was able to locate Mr. White. The names Baaand, James Baand!

And all this while I thought that only Karan Johar made pathetic movies!

I think the last time I had an urge to write a movie review was when I watched an 8 month pregnant Preity Zinta do a Nadia Comaneci in Salaam Namaste. That her baby, or whatever animal or football that she was carrying inside, did not fall out was a wonder that gave me nightmares for weeks. Atleast, I'll forget most about Casino Royale after this blog. As regards Salaam Namaste, please find me the director. I still want to commit murder - my first non-blog full-fledged movie review.