Director R Balki must have got a kick out of writing this very enjoyable poison-pen letter to film criticism in which a Mumbai serial killer stalks the practitioners of our noble profession. Se7en-style, the killer tailors the murders to the critique; woe betide the hack who thoughtlessly writes: “A picture whose heart is in the right place, but whose other organs are all over the place.” Not only is this premise a droll kick up the arse for the Scream-style meta-slasher, it has to be the first film in which someone says “I need a critic” in the same imperative tone usually reserved for a Swat team or an elite hitman.
First for cancellation is the career-assassin journalist found seated on his toilet, scored around his torso with bloody grooves. Police chief Mathur (Sunny Deol) twigs that the triangle carved into his forehead is, in fact, an uncompleted star, and that the killer, the “critics’ critic”, is “rating” his victims. Meanwhile, Nila (Shreyer Dhanwanthary) is the new entertainment reporter on the Mumbai Post. A film fanatic who likes to live within earshot of the musical numbers emanating from her local studio, she seems to be falling into her own movie romance when she meets strapping florist Danny (Dulquer Salmaan). So far, so masala – apart for the fact that, in private, Danny holds Norman Bates-style conversations with himself.
