Rahu Ketu

Rahu Ketu is the sort of inane and aggressively stunted Bollywood comedy in which the interval is so long that it feels like the movie doesn’t want to continue. But it does continue. For 70 more minutes. In all directions and no directions, unfolding like it’s made for a human demographic that doesn’t exist. I know there are takers for this brand of leave-your-brains-and-veins-at-home gibberish, but I am not one of those takers. I’d like to believe I’m a giver, because nothing else explains the fact that my body stayed seated in the cinema hall throughout, even though my spirit escaped (and probably had an accident on the way back). If it sounds like I’m exaggerating for effect, it’s true. There’s no other way to open the review of a movie where Piyush Mishra is still playing a Himachali storyteller who pretends he’s not in Tamasha, Manu Rishi Chadha is playing a writer who pretends he’s not in RK/RKay, Chunky Panday is playing a retired Mossad spy turned drug kingpin whose punchline is “Karma is a switch, join me and I’ll make you rich,” and Varun Sharma and Pulkit Samrat play dim-witted buddies who pretend like they’re not in Fukrey. Everyone seems to be pretending — except me.