Child’s Play!

No that isn’t the title coz the film deals with a baby, but because Sajid Khan’s inanity, immaturity, and impish aspiration of direction is so frivolous, below the belt and over the top that it looks like a caricatured construction of a cartoon film; which in its pristine form isn’t quite as much a child’s play as is the dilapidated adaptation of a Hollywood flick with touches of Nanha Farishta thrown in, coupled with the horny fantasies of an overgrown, underdeveloped adult! So basically, Heyy Babyy emerges from the kinky fantasy of a teenager, especially in the Indian context, where sex is always discussed in whispers, behind the closed walls, and thereby the eroticism often turns out to be mere and pure sleaze.

Vidya Balan, who is hell bent to prove with every successive film that Parineeta was a fluke plays the pretty looking, dim witted, ultra rich hot chick, who can make decisions like loving a man and bedding him in a span of two-three days, and one song, whose picturisation doesn’t even justify the blooming, budding romantic connection, which leads to immediate bedroom drama. And our super-macho stud boy (sans my dislike for the film, all these words definitely suit Akshay Kumar perfectly) gets it right (or perhaps wrong) at the first (and perhaps only) attempt and the baby in the Heyy Babyy comes into being! Talk of being stereotypical Mr. Khan, and there you are.

The baby being accidentally delivered at their (yeah Akshay has two more Casanova male friends too, who definitely look like extras besides him) doorstep, their initial lackadaisical attitude towards it, the dramatic twist in the plot and their sudden affection and wannabie labours at fatherhood (pun unintended), and then the further dramatic separation of the toddler from her three daddies, and a typically sappy saga of union towards the end, pretty much make up for the flow of events in this bizarre enterprise, which is dished out in the name of cinema. And then there are these sidey characters in itsy bitsy roles who enact the roles which the milestones do on a highway ride.

In an attempt to squeeze in everything, (sex, sleaze, oomph, innuendos, drama, emotions, music, comedy etc.) the captain of the ship ends up weaving a fabric which has lose ends at the edges, and as the film progresses, the tear keeps wearing off and finally the audience is left with a bunch of lose threads, which are the figments of the remains of what is called Heyy Babyy. He surely needs to learn some bits on making films from shows like Ikke pe Ikka, Kehne mein kya harz hai and the likes. Ideally how I wish that he doesn’t make a second attempt at trying.

Barring the put on attitude, Vidya Balan could do with some actual style and attitude, especially to carry off the prints which she wears in the film. (Nice work Manish, but alas!) She also needs someone to guide her through the process of role selection. Fardeen wouldn’t have had a better chance for a flagging career, but only if he would have cared as much for his own career the way I do as I write this. His bloated face makes him look ideal for both a drug re-hab ad, and a 'before' creative for a VLCC ad. Riteish takes over the glamourised role of the side-kick which was epitomized by Rajendra Nath, in the Shammi Kapoor films, and there’s mere glamour to him, which by the way doesn’t come naturally to him. Also his loud outcry of Jai Maharashtra is the most disgusting attempt at being funny that I have ever witnessed (I am ignoring the piss in the bottle scene from Aamir Khan's Mela, and the likes), and I hope this remains the permanent nadir for Hindi cinema. Boman Irani is a delight in whatever little he gets, and needless to say, he is wasted.

Shankar Ehsaan Loy aren’t quite in form and this one is perhaps there most forgettable track post Rudraksh (the same silly Sanjay Dutt starrer which featured Negar Khan in the song Ishq Khudai). I like the camera work, because the locations are beautiful but that’s it. Some dialogues are really funny and others are bad, real bad. The flow of the narrative is predictable, and tributes to classics from yesteryears, namely Chupke Chupke look like frantic tries at taking potshots at the film.

If there is something that keeps you on your seat irrespective of the director’s persistent and painstaking pursuit to drive you out, it is Akshay. He rocks! Though the glycerin tears get that sheen on his face which is usually found on the bare bodies of such hunks, one doesn’t really mind it, as he ushers you through the grotesque and freaky frames, out into a world where inanity doesn’t meet insanity. Amongst the other positives, the title track is well shot, and strictly refrains from being cheap, though it could have gone that way; and in an eighty second long role, SRK just proves why he is SRK, the King Khan!

All in all, a horny, insensitive, insensible, and senseless film targeted at the masses desperate (pun intended) for entertainment, one sits and contemplates as to why does Indian comedy always have to be slapstick or sleazy to be funny. Why can’t a film like a Chupke Chupke or a Khubsoorat (we so miss you Hrishida) or for that matter even an Andaz Apna Apna be made today? Are we supposed to find respite only in a Munnabhai?

And going by the success of the film at the BO, be prepared for many more such babies to come your way, till the time their makers grow up!