It is 'that' time of the year. When you drop by the college hall kitchen at 00:00 am you encounter all your erstwhile partying and club hopping neighbors cracking their Foucault and cursing Homi Bhabha for writing really worthy stuff which nobody understands.The requirement to come up with 6000 [sigh!!!] words of holy academic crap with some amount of originality invariably drives self to nuts.
So, instead of trying to slowly and steadily win the race, self logs on to facebook to find the status of latest Hindi movies. Ever since self has moved 2 alien shores, fb is the trusted source to get a quick glance of what is happening in homeland. And, you do get a filtered version of News Hour without running the risk of Arnab Goswami yelling at you. And, every thing comes with highly useful editorial inputs. If your hyper enthu 20 year old acquaintance talks about a 'kewl' movie, it means that you should steer clear of it.
However, if you watch a movie even before such helpful inputs are out, you are treading through tricky territories. But then, writer's block [some thing which happens to self even before typing a single word of the stipulated 6000] is always an excellent excuse. So, watching Aisha without logging in to find its 'kewl' quotient seemed like a good idea. What harm can a wannabe romantic movie which uses Jane Austen as a pretext do? When you type words like that you are insinuating the power of cinema to touch the pits [I mean really low pits].
star kid is that your dad can get you films which are as air headed as you must be and the rags with Toilet Paper of India in the lead can never really be nasty with you.
So, the viewer has the bad fortune of spending precious two and a few some thing hours of her/his life watching women get out of bed, shop, gym, go to the hairdresser etc and go back to sleep. Ooops, yes!!there are a few highlights when they go for a picnic, party .... The men also have a similar way of existence, but in a few odd shots they get to wear suits and sit in office like spaces [with a hot woman by the side] pretending to be investment bankers ['eat the bankers' variety]. And, of course the man gets to remind the woman of the meaningless of her existence which she bears like a badge throughout the film. After all the pot reminding the pan of its soot bits, the film ends with the worst romantic scene with a balcony involved. The bard must be turning in his grave at the lowly plight to which the balcony has fallen ever since 'Romeo and Juliet'.
Hopefully, they will soon come with a statutory warning for bad films. Till then, it serves to have a quick look at status tags before declaring "how bad can a movie be"...It is better to steer clear from such knowledge