Yuck it sucks. Naturally. So this guy with a smile smoother than silk tells two of his ilk, “You langoors, have my angoors.” There’s much to-do about teri leli and phati for that double entendre titillation. And above all there’s this classic line, “Your brains have piles, or what?”
What indeed! Sajid Khan’s Housefull 2 also gets into sandaas, burps, stinks and sour belches. Truly this purported situational comedy relies so much on toilet humour that it’s likely to leave your tummy rumbling. Sorry this isn’t cinema, here’s just another execrable, knockabout farce hacked out by a director who may score a hit, and then trot out half a dozen interviews, guffawing, 'Who cares about the critics?' with the shallow addendum, “I make movies for the masses.” Yeah right, good luck Mr. Khan with your mission:*2#*!
Like the mindless potty-pourris of David Dhawan of yore (please don’t make a blasphemous comparison to Manmohan Desai), Khan cares a damn for the story material, good taste, editing and sound. As for the visuals, they are either blotchy or the colour of street ice golas. Ugh.
Women are showcased as bouncy dimbettes from the outset, what with two female animal activists, barging into a London circus. How the two Lipstick Lassies bicker about who should get the credit for talking in Hindi to blue-eyed Britons. In fact, it would seem that the Queen’s City has been entirely colonised by Indians. Presumably, the Brits have been taking Hindi language tutorials to fit into an NRI-controlled economy. How’s that for wishful thinking?
Anyway, so there you are in horrendously photographed London, trying to make sense of the warfare between two Kapoor brother (Randhir-Rishi Kapoor). Senior Kapoor is the illegitimate son of a rather feeble-looking white statue, while the other K shouts out loud about his pure pedigree. Both believe they will score over the other by finding a groom for those anti-circus daughters from the Hinduja, Mittal or JD families. Haiiiinh?
Of these, Forbes lists JD in his lungi kurta as the Man of the Year (Mithun Chakraborty, ha ha). Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone but this JD is actually Jagga Daku, a dacoit who went straight and made pots of pounds, shilling and pence. Now he shampooes a spotted white horse every morning and woe betide, tolerates a running commentary on nothing in particular from his flunkey Johnny Lever. By now, you’re fed up, running a fever.
Next: it’s all quite foggy actually, except that during a matchmaking session with an old man wearing furry ear muffs, is insulted by one of the Kapoors. Ear Muffs lands in hospital. His son (Shreyas Talpade, the only decent actor on the scene vows vengeance). As your lousy luck would have it, Ear Muffs Jr’s best friend and collaborator in the vendetta plan is none other than JD’s only son (Riteish Deshmukh). Complicated? You bet. After reels and reels of yelling and screaming, the Daku’s stately manor is packed with con guys (Akshay Kumar-John Abraham) who’re trying to make out with only the screenplay-alone knows which girl (Asin, Jacqueline Ferandes, Shazahn Padamsee and Make-up Galore). At one point, all their photos are pinned on a board just in case you’re lost. Or you’re down on your knees begging for mercy. Yipes.
More: tolerate if you can, a crocodile who needs a quick-fix dentist, a python who’s referred to as Francis Ford Sappola and an entire farcical section set on a desert island, to recreate a bit of the Kaho Na Pyaar Hai flavour. In vain. Much more: Item empress Malaika Arora-Khan shows up to tantalise Mithun Chakraborty and Boman Irani, who suddenly drops in from the high heavens. Is Mithunda or apro Boman her prime choice? Perhaps that’ll be revelead in Lousefull 3. Shudder.
Flaunting the attitude that his film – or whatever – is brazenly asinine, Khan even seems to believe that the mention of the Mumbai suburb, Bhandup, is rib-tickingly funny. Ditto the smatterings of Marathi and Sindhi. Oldtimer Ranjit fetches up to play the part of Daddy Th-e-rapist. And frequently when Rishi Kapoor is in frame, the background music tinkers around with themes from the great RK films. Oof.
No one’s performance is likely to be remembered. Correction: Chunky Panday as a Mr Pasta is so nerve-wracking that you might need to be on medication immediately. Riteish Deshmukh either hams or apes Shah Ruk Khan. Desi boyz Akshay Kumar and John Abraham are stale as yesterday’s Shepherd’s pie.
Enough is enough. Over to Mr Khan for his mandatory, “I don’t make movies to get good reviews.” Sure. He just makes bad movies. Period.
