NK aka PK

Once upon a time there was a good boy named Raju who used to make clean yet brilliant movies. One day he met a boy named Sajid who used to make, ahmm, not-so-clean movies. They were holding hands and chatting, and Sajid was trying hard to convince Raju, to no avail, that going not-so-clean was the way to go. An alien spaceship happened to pass overhead at that very instant and emitted some bizarre rays. Lo and behold, through his hands Sajid’s language of moviemaking was miraculously downloaded into Raju’s mind! Thus was born PK.  

PK is a movie made by Raju Hirani in a sensibility foreign to him, the result being pretty one-dimensional. It is impossible to fathom Hirani’s insecurity about his own style of moviemaking as a result of which he felt the need to tread into this kind of Sajid-flavoured shallow sensationalist moviemaking.  The movie had the potential to evolve into a brilliant piece of work like his previous movies, but for Raju Hirani’s death wish to make a movie that simply had to have in every frame at least 50% skin show, if not 100% less a transistor.

The story has an obvious dearth of original and credible ideas. And the ones that are there by happenstance have more holes than body. So we have an alien who is exactly same in form and structure as humans, except for the wardrobe malfunction factor, and also conveniently happens to sport a 6 pack (or is it an 8 pack)?  The opening of the story seems to be too conveniently placed in Bruges only to justify Anushka’s so-obviously-trying-to-ape-hollywood-sensibility-short clothes.  And the dancing cars? This attempt at harnessing the contemporary ‘titan fastrackesque’ lingo simply makes you squirm in your seats.  

To add to this mayhem, Hirani needlessly steps into the quagmire of religion, unnecessarily attacking one and defending another. The basic premise of an alien landing on earth and wondering in complete childlike innocence about the strange customs on this ‘gola’ was completely adorable by itself. Hirani should have stuck to this notion without diluting it with inane religious and otherwise subplots.

He absolutely misses the bus that would have taken him to his conceptual destination and instead boards a bus that traverses through many stops but finally goes nowhere. Quite much like the dish Navratan Korma which I do not fancy at all, a mash-up of as many vegetables as you can lay your hands on, neither of which is recognizable or memorable!