Uff Yeh Siyapaa

A film scored by A R Rahman, no less, cannot, in all honesty, be called a silent film. It can also be a big reason for drawing us into a film labelled a silent comedy, because music is key to telling us what words cannot. But looks can be deceptive. Let me warn you, this is two hours of drivel. How on God’s good earth did Rahman get inveigled into a project so vacuous? That’s a mystery which is destined to go unsolved; meanwhile, let me inflict upon you the misery I had to undergo.

If not for movies like Ufff Yeh Siyapaa, I’d be in denial about my age. Denial is not an option when I try to pull out my hair only to be met with a receding hairline. Thanks to the constant face-palming, I also realise that my skin has wrinkles. Thanks to the involuntary sighing and eye-rolling, I realise that yoga might be good for my stamina. Thanks to the inability to keep my eyes on the screen, I realise that my mind needs glasses too. And thanks to the resolute awfulness of a 116-minute silent comedy in 2025, I realise that my life is truly too short.