Sikandar
Starring Salman Khan
Directed by AR Murugadoss
Salman Khan’s new release, Sikandar, is a travesty of all good taste and a mockery of all rational justification for a film to exist. It also shamelessly mocks Salman’s superstardom by giving him a screenplay, probably written as a joke by someone who has a grudge against him, which treats his royal character like some kind of a super-hero who was lobotomized by marauders when the haveli’s doors were open.
Salman’s Raja Saab, aka Sikandar and Sanjay(his parents were fans of Indian history and Sunil Dutt-Nargis, we are told) wears a single expression throughout. Even when he is in acute pain (we know that feeling), he seems to be stress-free..Sab theek ho jayega, just chill.
This seems to be Mr Khan’s motion picture motto. The rest of the team follows suit. Not one actor makes an effort to get into character for two reasons: the writing doesn’t allow them to. More importantly, if the Bhai’s preferred mode of expression is stoicism, then the lesser mortals must follow the same route.
Actors like Sharman Joshi (playing Mr Khan’s mumbling adviser), Kajal Aggarwal (playing…I am not too sure even she knows what) and Sathyaraj (playing Bhai’s growling nemesis) are lost in the crowd. As for Prateik Smita Patil, playing a brat who tries to molest a female passenger in the business class (a quality seriously missing in this brackish mocktale), Mom must be so proud of you! Rashmika Mandana, who has been in a few blockbusters recently, doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance.
In all fairness, director Murugadoss must have been given a simple brief: make sure the hero gets eulogized in every sequence if not every frame.
The panegyrics flow like toothpaste from an uncapped tube: Raja Saab ki jai ho, woh insaan nahin devata hain, Raj Saab abhi aane wale hain… etc etc. I am not too sure if these exact words are used. But you get the drift?
I certainly didn’t. After two-and-a-half hours of brain-bashing, the Salman-is-King-and-what-can-SRK-do-about-it brand of filmmaking begins to wear dangerously thin. The plot is overladen with activity: Salman is constantly on the move while the mood throughout remains obstinately inert as if to mock the audience that believes Salman Khan should change. Why should he when he is doing just fine?
The problem is, he is not! Even the staunchest Salmaniacs would cringe at the sheer gawkiness of the writing here. The first half is about Salman searching for three organ donars. This could make for a mildly diverting 7-episode series on Doordarshan…but a full-length feature film featuring one of India’s most beloved superstars?!
Salman needs a reality check. And this is not the time or place for it. Sikandar is like a lengthy misguided tilt of the topi to tinsel town’s Tipu Sultan. It is so awful that it makes Salman’s last Eid outing seem preferable… On second thoughts, both belong to the junkyard.
The only funny line (unintended) is when Sanjay Rajkot/Salman tries to talk in colloquial Hindi to a chawl boy and stops saying, “This language doesn’t suit me.”
Now, if only Salman Khan tried to find out what suits him.
