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Mastizaade
Critic reviews and ratings
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...is shocking and scandalous.
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...a ludicrous movie with an absurdly inept story and screenplay.
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Zaveri takes his brain-dead audience for granted and unmindfully dishes out trite, leaving you angry and anguished.
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Arre bhai, here we are, with cinema tickets. Corrupt us, please. But for that Bollywood will have to man-up first and stop pretending we are a nation of gurgling morons who get off on montages of cleavage.
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From peeling a banana to opening a bank account, from light sockets to soda bottles, Mastizaade pulls out all the stops and lets the ribald humour gush for 108 minutes.
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Welcome to the warped, juvenile fantasy world of Milap Javeri.
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There are silly jokes and even sillier depictions of them. It's like all forwarded jokes have been shot separately for laughs; then Milap Zaveri sat in the studio placing them in sequences.
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More than being offensive, Milap Zaveri’s film is excruciatingly boring.
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Very little of this feels fresh or genuinely funny, and there’s virtually no plot to speak of.
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...this material is credited to Mushtaq Sheikh and Milap Zaveri — two people who should be fined for owning a pen.
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...this is yet another disappointing, recycled attempt at a sex-comedy.
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...has no masti whatsoever. This is intolerable cruelty, a vicious attack on the senses.
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The problem with a film like Mastizaade is not that it's overloaded with sex. The problem is that the sexual content isn't just regressive it's plain stupid.
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The double entendre seems to be drawn from pubescent schoolboys just beginning to discover the female mammary glands and cursed with particularly low IQs.
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What is more depressing? The fact that the first Kya Kool Hain Hum was made? Or that it has spawned a franchise?
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Having suffered through two hours of non-stop crassness, I am sorry to tell you that there are barely two-and-a-half laughs in ‘Mastizaade’. The alleged ‘masti’ is so ‘sasti’, that you are left cringing rather than cracking up.
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It’s as pointless as a punctured condom. It’s as ghastly as a bad boob job. It’s like entering a lunatic pervert’s Internet search history tab and discovering only cake recipes.
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Only question left to ask after two hours: would you call this a film?
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Even the absolute daftest of sex comedies have room for something sharp and clever and cheeky. Because Austin Powers minus the groovy is just pervy, baby, pervy.
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