Kahin Pyaar Na Ho Jaaye new
Cast: Raveena Tandon, Salman Khan, Ranee Mukherjee, Pooja Batra, Inder Kumar, Kashmira Shah and Mohnish Behl
Producer: Narendra Bajaj
Director: K Murali Mohan Rao
Music: Himesh Reshammiya
Lyrics: Sudhakar Sharma and Rajesh Malik
Is it the end of imagination in Hindi cinema? It definitely is. Week after week of adaptations.... Makes you want to hang your head in shame. So what if you aren't the filmmaker, director, scriptwriter, storyteller but just an aam darshak, the front and backbencher, who can no way be held responsible for the mess. It's your dream machine out there, supposed to peddle your kind of dreams; build your kind of fantasies; cavort to your kind of tunes. But this...not yours. Not anymore.
This week they are offering us an indigenous Wedding Singer. No problems with that. For, the Adam Sandler Drew Barrymore mush-gush had won over the Indian box office last year. Again, no problems with that. So Sandler becomes Salman, the wedding singer with a predilection for singing - and stripping. And Drew becomes Rani, both chubby-cheeked cheesecake-with-chutzpah.
So where's the problem? Remember what happened when While You Were Sleeping became something-something- something; Leon became Bichcho; Dead Poet's Society became Mohabbatein.... Like always, the problem begins when desification becomes a synonym for dumbing down. If Hollywood credits its audience with some degree of IQ (intelligent quotient), EQ (emotional quotient), SQ (spiritual quotient), Bollywood believes we are all buddhus (dumb). Why else would it pepper its films with heroes who act like dodos and heroines who are the archetypal dumb belles?
Salman's Sandler is almost sickening. Wide-eyed, affected and absolutely corny, he seems to be perfecting the art of hamming. As the simpleton who is stood up on his wedding day, only to fall in love with the friendly neighborhood friend (Rani), Salman has neither the sweetness nor the simplicity of Sandler. Totally unconvincing as the poor little poor boy, he makes you want to scream with his drown-my-grief-in-drinks act. There, in the plastic bar, with his plastic grief poured out before his plastic friend (Jackie Shroff), he puts up an act, which is as rock solid as plasticine.
Of course, the pink and purple backdrop of the quintessential Indian parivar - by now, a permanent fixture in post - Hum Aapke Hain Kaun cinema - does little to lift him from his synthetic environs. Nor does the otherwise dependable Rani do anything that lives up to her reputation of an actress who delivers. But how can she, when she's made to wear those awful clips in her hair - sometimes blue, sometimes yellow, and always grotesque. Almost anybody would be too embarrassed to deliver....
Then Jackie, another has-beens story. Oh Jackie! We remember Parinda, Ram Lakhan, Khalnayak, Jaggu dada, Kya hua tera vaada. Nah! This won't do. If the dream merchants persist in pouring out khichadi after kitsch, week after week, there just might be a mutiny in the movie halls. For, whose dreams are these, anyway?
i don't think pakistani moviez are and were relevent in this case!..u are here to discuss this indian movie so stick to it..!!