Bhaiaji Superhit Review: Downsizing Deol

There was a time when Sunny is super sound the man and not his studio loudly lambasted the villain and drew cheers from an elated crowd.

But years of repeated hollering and hostility have literally downsized Sunny Deol is might into mockery.

Such gigs have outlived their shelf life and do little more than humiliate our nostalgia for a shopworn action hero when a movie stinks as badly as Bhaiaji Superhit.

So devotedly dimwitted is this long in the making junk in its attempt to be funny, it's weird not one person had the sense to call out the claptrap.

After last week's jumbled satire Mohalla Assi  where Deol tried to pass off as a Sanskrit scholar and priest the actor is back in Benares to play a bungling don.
When he is not breaking glass and furniture like a dinner deprived gorilla, he's moping about his suspicious wife's departure to a doltish shrink.

Sunny's wardrobe of flashy velvet jackets and floral scarves could be a legitimate reason for her to walk out on him and serve divorce notices.

But that is not the case.

Nothing here happens for a reason.

It happens because a scrap of paper instructs so.

Funny how Sunny presses a ball pen's button and an entire building complex collapses metaphor for Bollywood script writing was never more powerful.

Wait there is more.

He yells 'Jai Mahakal!" looking heavenwards and it starts to rain heavily.

A face-off between him and the rival gangster (Jaideep Ahlawat) cuts to a sadhu orgy inside a room that cannot decide between nightclub and temple.

He has got skeletons buried in his backyard but bats for the cause of bereaved fauji families. And squeaky-voiced lookalikes conveniently fall in his lap.
A roster of fine (Pankaj Tripathi, Sanjay Mishra, Brijendra Kala) and forgotten (Mukul Dev) actors pop up arbitrarily and demonstrate the lure of money.

In this scenario, Preity Zinta's descent from bubbly to bhabhi is the least of Bhaiaji Superhit's problems.

Brawny men and bikes are tossed off the screen while cars fly and explode like a low-budget Rohit Shetty nightmare.

Continuity is a serious myth. A character is kidnapped in one outfit, rescued in another. A clean-shaven chap grows a thick beard overnight and hairstyles change at the snap of a finger.

Everybody keeps bumping into each other as if they're living inside a fish bowl. Only it's weed, not water, they are floating in.

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