Kismet, Love, Paisa, Dilli, mayhem, sheer baloney... one could go on. But what about some sense and substance? Kismat Love Paisa Dilli never promised any of that. So there.
The makers of KLPD might as well, as a statutory warning, have added another letter to the title to denote ASSAULT. Yes, this wannabe comic thriller is an all-out assault on the senses.
If nothing else, it at least lives up to its name. KLPD, if you know what it means, is just that ? a complete letdown.
Loaded with loud, risque locker-room humour that flirts with egregiously coarse taste at every turn, KLPD is an attempted laugh riot that falls through its own yawning cracks to end up in the pits. The screenplay offers a loose pastiche of gags rather than a coherent storyline.
The fact of the matter is that director Sanjay Khanduri does himself no favours by relying overly on Vivek Oberoi to pull off the character of a Haryanvi slang-spouting college boy and carry the weight of the film on his shoulders. High hopes!
Of course, it isn't entirely Oberoi's fault. KLPD is so utterly fluffy that, despite the actor?s game efforts, there is no way he can get his fingers around the material and push it forward. He only manages to tie himself up in knots and the sight is anything but funny.
KLPD plays out in the course of a single night in Delhi. It is October 2, Gandhi Jayanti. As for the significance of the day in the film's scheme of things, the audience has no way of knowing.
An inveterate skirt-chaser, Lokesh Duggal, Lucky to his friends? the character played by Vivek Oberoi ? drifts from a raucous fashion show - where, as a bartender and a videographer's assistant, he tries his own brand of urine therapy on some guests - to a Metro station to catch the last train home.
In the train, a lady in white (Neha Dhupia in a cameo) hands a letter over to him and vanishes, landing him in big trouble.
On the run from the cops, Lucky bumps into the fashion show emcee, Lovina (Mallika Sherawat), a girl who has caught his fancy. He latches on to her for dear life.
The duo misses the last metro and all hell breaks loose as Lucky is chased by a posse of cops, Lovina is leered at by a bunch of goons, and other nocturnal creatures hit the streets of the city like wild animals let loose in a zoo.
It is a veritable menagerie out there. Unfortunately, none of the mad hatters in the mix is remotely interesting.
They come and go without quite knowing whether they are coming or going: a corrupt politician desperate to get his hands on a videotape, a gay fashion designer described as "the legendary maneater of Delhi", party animals high on rave drugs, and a pipsqueak of a pizza delivery boy who is pushed around by everybody until he transforms into a vampire of sorts and bites off the earlobes of his tormentors.
Everybody out on the streets of Delhi at night is a predator, Lucky warns Lovina. The latter shoots back: Are you one, too? No, I am a saviour, Lucky claims, speaking more out of anticipation than conviction. Neither the girl nor the audience is impressed.
Ashutosh Rana as Kaptaan, the head of a gang of street criminals scouring the city in a mortuary van, gives the role his best shot, but his best simply isn?t good enough. The lines he speaks are more corny than witty and his moronic get-up overshadows the other attributes of the character.
It is hard to believe that Khanduri is the man who, five years ago, made the widely applauded Ek Chalis Ki Last Local, which was a nifty comic thriller set in Mumbai?s criminal underbelly. It turned out to be a big sleeper hit.
In his new film ? it could have been titled Gyarah Chalis Ki Last Metro ? the train doesn't quite get going. It runs out of steam rather too quickly.
KLPD is a messy jumble that lurches almost blind from one free-for-all situation to another in the fond hope of tickling the funny bone. It ends up trying the patience of the audience. Stay away!