It’s a cruel irony that the extra alphabets at the end of the film’s title actually translate into your going zzz…

As you are left with sleep being rubbed out of your eyes as the end credits roll, you wonder sympathy-less why Himesh Reshammiya attempted something that was so clearly out of his league. Putting it succinctly, Reshammiya is a better composer than a singer, and a better singer than actor.

On to the premise then: Monty is a rock star with Cruella De Ville-type parents who call him a sone ke ande dene waala murga. Reshammiya who plays Monty invites your wrath immediately. Because the name takes you back to the full-of-vibes, utterly charming Rishi Kapoor who immortalized this character. Here, Himesh with silken hair extensions, a waxed chest shown off in unbuttoned shirts, and inaccurate guitar strumming, is hardly believable as a star who attracts the ladies. Plus, the idea of a `rock star’ is vague in today’s times; this concept simply doesn’t exist!

Monty has a friend, the filmi kind who hangs on to his every word and does the dirty work of unearthing details about the girl he’s fallen for. The girl is Tina (Shweta Kumar), a strange sort, who likes picking out every teddy and furry animal toy in shops; she doesn’t even leave out the damn key-chains.

Constantly living in baby-pink eye-shadow, Tina claims to be an Indian nari when Monty jokes about a live-in relationship. But he’s also an Indian, see, so he was talking about marriage after all. You know the rest of the story. He keeps seeing recurring images when he plays a tune and sets out to investigate. The portion when he understands that he is actually seeing incidents from his past life, is so unconvincing, you laugh.

Soon after, a loud reference is made to Reshammiya’s Aap Ka Surroor, which, we are informed was a super hit. Monty, meanwhile, is creeping out last-janam wifey Princess Kamini (Matondkar), but she ends up singing Tandoori Nights (we need a Razzies for lyrics) with him. The climax calls her a dayan (she even gives us that monstrous villain laugh) and the Hindi film mother makes her presence felt, complete with white saree and agonizingly cheesy dialogues (Rohini Hattangadi, unbearable). The disbelief quotient is stretched further as Gulshan Grover appears wearing a, gulp, robotic arm with an army of villains straight out a kiddie sci-fi film.

A word about the styling and make-up – it’s dreadful. A `rock-star’ in today’s time, Himesh roams about in suits for the most part, sporting varied junk jewellery-type neck pieces. He looks ok in a stubble; he knows it, and has stuck with it throughout the film. This may be picking too fine a point, but you can see the faded red pooja threads around his wrist (maulis); a careless detail incongruous with the character. Urmila, who could have sizzled, is made to look silly in traffic-stopping red lipstick and tacky gowns. Her skin is not given attention to, and she looks good only in the flashback scenes. Ditto the leading lady, whose make-up was disappointingly old-school.

Performance-wise the only actor who really stood out was Danny Danzongpa who plays Tina’s film-obsessed guardian. Urmila too does very well. Himesh has an open-mouthed gaze for the most part and Shweta Kumar’s smile never once reaches her lovely green eyes. Looking mismatched, their chemistry is icier than an igloo.

The flat cinematography has a perplexing penchant for unflattering extreme close-ups and there were shots when the heroine’s face (usually given super-priority) was lit up badly. The final helicopter scene, however, has been handled extremely well; clearly the most gripping portion of the film.

The music is passable on its own but is blasphemous compared to the original film. None of the purity retains, and these songs are just entertaining beats and noise that you might unmindfully enjoy and then forget. Dialogue is painfully archaic.

Go for it only if Himesh Reshammiya singing, dancing and acting makes up for your paisa and time vasool.