The title is an exclamation that could imply anything from indignation to bewilderment, embarrassment to disappointment, and amazement to utter disbelief.
The film, all 107 minutes of it, is a full frontal assault that gives the audience no options at all. The only emotion it arouses is disgust.
O Teri is a hard-to-classify film. In fact, one isn?t even sure it can be called a film.
It is a loud, over-the-top, mindless caper masquerading as political satire. In other words, it is a variation on Jai Ho, drastically watered down and given a slapstick makeover.
So mind-numbingly daft is this concoction that it makes the Salman Khan starrer released early this year look like a masterpiece of subaltern agitprop.
The protagonist of Jai Ho was a very, very irate ex-army officer who single-handedly took on the system. In O Teri, Operation Clean-up is continued by a pair of blundering investigative journalists who work for a television channel and generate more nuisance than news.
O Teri, directed by Umesh Bist and produced by Atul Agnihotri, takes the usual potshots at the entire panoply of parasites ? fraudulent politicians, spineless bureaucrats, smarmy corporate lobbyists, avaricious government contractors, and pliable members of the media.
But who, pray, is going to account for filmmakers who foist such monstrosities on the paying public?
The heroes of O Teri are two bum chums (Pulkit Samrat and debutant Bilal Amrohi) who share a pad and a profession in the National Capital Region of Delhi.
The duo reports to a female television anchor (Sarah-Jane Dias) who summarily barks orders at them and sends them on a wild goose chase after news scoops that can boost the channel?s ratings.
The two pals take her seriously because they have no choice ? their careers have hit the skids and the only way they can resurrect their stocks is by unearthing a truly earth-shattering scam.
All that they manage to shatter are unsuspecting eardrums.
The only time the boss comes remotely close to making any sense is when she suggests to the two boys that they should shut shop and sell chicken dumplings instead.
They stumble upon a slain CBI officer (the actor does a great job of playing dead) and a couple of mean politicians out to outdo each other in milking the funds allocated for the upcoming ?Asian Olympic Games? (what on earth is that?)
O Teri makes references to real events and developments of the recent past ? the Commonwealth Games scam, the nexus between journalists, lobbyists and politicians, the explosion of the social media, the growing scourge of crony capitalism, and even a sex scandal.
But in the absence of a coherent screenplay and sharp lines, it only adds up to a lot of hot air that is terribly stale.
O Teri churns out moronic gibberish that is as edifying as the invented expletives that the Opposition politician Bhanwar Lal Kilol (Vijay Raaz) hurls at everyone within earshot.
Raaz, who is generally a wonderful actor, allows himself to flow with the aimless tide and ends up in a hole that is better not described.
Anupam Kher, in the guise of the Games organizing committee chief, does not ham half as much, but he fares no better. He sleepwalks through the mayhem.
Mandira Bedi tries very hard to pull off the role of a scheming spin doctor but goes all haywire despite being in full control on the sartorial front.
The lead actors ? Samrat, Amrohi and Dias ? treat each scene as if it were their last shot at glory.
They yelp and holler like a bunch of ill-behaved kids in urgent need of being reined in and severely reprimanded.
But there is nobody around with the sense to tell them that shouting isn?t acting.
O Teri is only for those that are of tough disposition or are blessed with the ability to take any load of bunkum in a darkened movie hall.
One character in O Teri reminds us that justice is blind, the public is dumb and the government is deaf. He might as well have added one more to that ? on a bad day, Bollywood is spectacularly brainless.
Conclusion: Aw shucks, what a piece of shuck. O Teri sucks.