His Mummyji – fondly called bebe -- does preach ‘n’ screech, breaking into a speech at any given chance. No wonder, one of her sons seems to be a basket case, although he’s a champ at martial arts and dance. Sad.
Sulks the lad, while Mummyji (Ma’am Amrita Singh) also keeps announcing that she’s fond of her evening tipple by brandishing a bottle of tea (meant to suggest whisky). Hic, and on one occasion, she even gets frisky while swigging what could be vodka, gin or plain tap water. Really, this mum has herself a blast in A Flying Jatt, directed, co-choreographed and co-written (lots of co-s there) by Remo D’Souza, who hey Lord, goes at this superhero extravaganza, with a godown full of hammer and tongs.
The result, however, is more than likely to make your mind, or what’s left of it, go ding-dong.
Hell’s bells, truly. Just watch Mummyji moving heaven, earth and a sacred tree from a takeover by a meanie Mr Malhotra (Kay Kay Menon with a tidal wave hair style). He wants to take over a heritage site -- a decades-old residential colony actually -- so he can construct a bridge and pollute the garma garam environment some more.
Ultra-busy, Meanie declares, “I don’t pick up a Rs 1,000 note if it falls on the ground. I’d lose a crore of rupees in business if I lost that split second of time.” Haiiinh? It’s another story that Meanie spends hazaar minutes, lighting up a Havana cigar. How he puffs ‘n’ huffs.
Anyway, this cigar addict isn’t to be taken seriously. Mummyji slaps Meanie Beanie Malhotra right across the face when he comes visiting that precious housing colony. That done, Mummyji has far more illogical errands to attend to. Like bullying her son, Aman (Tiger Shroff) to become like his deceased Shaolin-expert father (recalled in an animation ‘sickuence’).
Enter ewww-my-God, Raka (Nathan Jones) who bounces out from a desert grave, and then from a toxic wasteland to flare his ample nostrils. His introduction scene is funnier than Kapil Sharma’s comedy show for sure. To take him on, Mummyji’s Aman beta has to be struck by thunderbolts of VFX lighting. Next: transforms he from a mousy Clark Kent into a yaaay supah hero. Aah, ab aayega mazaa, you clap, only to be subjected to antics which will drive you feverishly frantic. Do carry a thermometer, or better still a doctor along.
Instead of sticking to a neat action-crammed entertainer, Remo D’Souza and Co strive to pack in so many agendas in the plot that it becomes half-baked food for thought. Consider these: childish editorials on how to become eco-friendly (in a first, a quote from Remo sir, pops up on the screen) and how or why music is a great healer (a violin strum, it seems, can cure aches and pains).
Above all, religious elements are constantly evoked to woo the Punjab constituency. In yet another animated interlude, Mummyji elaborates on the valour of the Sikhs. How the ‘baarah baj gaye’ catchphrase came to be is narrated to son Aman, who has refused to wear his dad’s turban thus far. Hmm, de, hmm.
The fight-to-the-finish between Toxic Monster and Superson Aman is about to unroll. And yo, it moves from Goregaon’s Film City (so what if the story is located in Punjab?) to another Planet which could be Jupiter, Venus or Mars. By now, you’re thoroughly spaced out, feeling quite like an astro-nut.
Image Source: Youtube /BalajiMotionPictures
There are redundant characters galore. Count among them the Romantic Quotient Kriti or is it Kirti? (played by Jacqueline Fernandez who has swiftly become a permanent Grin Machine). Then check out a kooky music teacher (Violin Kumar). As for Mummyji’s second son (Gaurav Pandey), he hangs around like an X’mas tree bauble, not to forget a gang of kids – ranging from a little girl placed on a hospital ventilator and a death-defying cherub – calculated to woo the under-teens audience.
Any uppers? Sort of. The vertigo-afflicted superhero Aman only flies at a low height and actually waits for the traffic lights to turn green. Sachin-Jigar’s music is inspired (the background score isn’t) and at least two fantasy-embellished dances are delicious eye-candy floss.
By the way, you might have mixed feelings about a rude, personal jibe aimed at Shraddha Kapoor who gamely makes a guest disappearance.
Mercilessly way over the top, A Flying Jatt extracts an equally OTT performance from Amrita Singh. Wait, do count your blessings. Tiger Shroff uses his eyes and low-key voice to transmit his moments of vulnerability, and works hard when it comes to conveying his physical rigour.
The young actor is capable of much, much more. He’s good. The rest of A Flying Jatt ISN’T.
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