Even though regular readers of this space might not agree, we like to give local films the benefit of whatever doubt one can muster out of the oft obvious atrocities that are served up on the big screens.
Last week was a prominent example, where we got excited by the tangible promise that Ready Steady No showcased and, despite putting all the qualifiers wherever necessary, focused on its satirical strengths in lieu of the shortcomings that it might have had on the commercial front.
However, Ready Steady No exhibited intellect and comic writing that has never even been attempted in the country, let alone actually produced.
And hence where the ambitions of the otherwise small-budget project had to be lauded in the hope that others might follow suit and take the local industry to the next level, more often than not in our neck of the woods, one is stuck with mind-numbing rehashes of a fixed masala or unmitigated disasters in the name of experimentation.
Even so, perhaps the most catastrophic cinematic offerings come when films not merely conjure the worst that modern filmmaking has to offer, but somehow manage to produce what can only be described as the most abysmal human experiences with nauseous throwbacks to the past – a déjà vu that is punishment for a crime no one can possibly commit.
Sirf Tum He Tou Ho is that experience. It is such an excruciatingly pointless exercise in human activity that the filmmakers and distributors couldn’t even bother spending sufficient time on it to finalize the name of the movie – with Sirf Tum He Tou Ho and Tum He Tou Ho both being used by those of us somehow managing to find it worth the time and effort to mention this waste of whatever it took to produce it.
The sirf (only) in question that comes and goes from the title depending on where you’re looking for it, stands sirf and sirf for being the absolute worst that Lollywood has, and can, offer. And given the density of competition on the lower echelons of the industry, to bag that particular title is perhaps a more outstanding achievement than to reach the relative top.
To call Sangeeta-directed Sirf Tum He Tou Ho – yes, we’ll stick with the sirf – a disappointment, is to bestow delusion to an offering whose only positive is that not many people know of its existence.
If you want a more forthright critique, the film is a mash of massacred scenes, ghastly makeup and costume, haphazardly-woven and brain-crushingly slow screenplay, stolen music and some acting –which given what else is around it, might feel world-beating.
The veteran director has made a comeback through this movie, which was slated to be released in 2017. It was delayed due to distribution issues, which one can quite understand given that no one in their right mind would have wanted to distribute this, unless they had a time machine and could fly back to the 1990s – it would have been a tall order even then.
In her head, Sangeeta has tried to recreate the 1990s Lollywood, when Urdu films made a brief comeback with the likes of Nikah, Sangam, Dopatta Jal Raha Hai and Mushkil. But of course those movies did well owing to the age old rule of elimination, simply because they were better – or not as bad – as their loud, over-the-top, painfully regressive Punjabi flicks. However, it’s fair to say the worst of the ‘90s Urdu films would give Sirf Tum He Tou Ho a good old battering.
Touching on the story itself is absolutely irrelevant. But if you’re really a daredevil, let us tell you that there’s a rich boy Noor (Danish Taimoor), who predictably falls in love with a poor girl Roshni (Qurat ul Ain) and gets married to her against the wishes of her parents – as is obvious, the script is breathtakingly fresh. Enter Shiza (Mathira), who tries seduce the hero, with an entire agonizing track dedicated to the entrapment process.
Danish Taimoor is not the greatest actor in the world, but perhaps he needed a wretched script to make him look less bad. Qurat ul Ain’s acting perfectly matches her makeup and attire, which after a few seconds you start finding physically painful. Mathira, meanwhile, was roped in to play Mathira.
Now don’t start getting too excited, the music was a calamity as well – except for perhaps Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s Ishaq Anokhari Peer. Mahiya and Mai Ka Laal not only have terrible melodies, they are some of the worst choreographed songs in the history of Lollywood.
In short, Sirf Tum He Tou Ho or Tum He Tou Ho is the answer to the question, “What’s wrong with Lollywood?”
Unfortunately, it’s a question the filmmakers never asked themselves.
Last week was a prominent example, where we got excited by the tangible promise that Ready Steady No showcased and, despite putting all the qualifiers wherever necessary, focused on its satirical strengths in lieu of the shortcomings that it might have had on the commercial front.
However, Ready Steady No exhibited intellect and comic writing that has never even been attempted in the country, let alone actually produced.
And hence where the ambitions of the otherwise small-budget project had to be lauded in the hope that others might follow suit and take the local industry to the next level, more often than not in our neck of the woods, one is stuck with mind-numbing rehashes of a fixed masala or unmitigated disasters in the name of experimentation.
Even so, perhaps the most catastrophic cinematic offerings come when films not merely conjure the worst that modern filmmaking has to offer, but somehow manage to produce what can only be described as the most abysmal human experiences with nauseous throwbacks to the past – a déjà vu that is punishment for a crime no one can possibly commit.
Sirf Tum He Tou Ho is that experience. It is such an excruciatingly pointless exercise in human activity that the filmmakers and distributors couldn’t even bother spending sufficient time on it to finalize the name of the movie – with Sirf Tum He Tou Ho and Tum He Tou Ho both being used by those of us somehow managing to find it worth the time and effort to mention this waste of whatever it took to produce it.
The sirf (only) in question that comes and goes from the title depending on where you’re looking for it, stands sirf and sirf for being the absolute worst that Lollywood has, and can, offer. And given the density of competition on the lower echelons of the industry, to bag that particular title is perhaps a more outstanding achievement than to reach the relative top.
To call Sangeeta-directed Sirf Tum He Tou Ho – yes, we’ll stick with the sirf – a disappointment, is to bestow delusion to an offering whose only positive is that not many people know of its existence.
It is such an excruciatingly pointless exercise in human activity that the filmmakers and distributors couldn’t even bother spending sufficient time on it to finalize the name of the movie
If you want a more forthright critique, the film is a mash of massacred scenes, ghastly makeup and costume, haphazardly-woven and brain-crushingly slow screenplay, stolen music and some acting –which given what else is around it, might feel world-beating.
The veteran director has made a comeback through this movie, which was slated to be released in 2017. It was delayed due to distribution issues, which one can quite understand given that no one in their right mind would have wanted to distribute this, unless they had a time machine and could fly back to the 1990s – it would have been a tall order even then.
In her head, Sangeeta has tried to recreate the 1990s Lollywood, when Urdu films made a brief comeback with the likes of Nikah, Sangam, Dopatta Jal Raha Hai and Mushkil. But of course those movies did well owing to the age old rule of elimination, simply because they were better – or not as bad – as their loud, over-the-top, painfully regressive Punjabi flicks. However, it’s fair to say the worst of the ‘90s Urdu films would give Sirf Tum He Tou Ho a good old battering.
Touching on the story itself is absolutely irrelevant. But if you’re really a daredevil, let us tell you that there’s a rich boy Noor (Danish Taimoor), who predictably falls in love with a poor girl Roshni (Qurat ul Ain) and gets married to her against the wishes of her parents – as is obvious, the script is breathtakingly fresh. Enter Shiza (Mathira), who tries seduce the hero, with an entire agonizing track dedicated to the entrapment process.
Danish Taimoor is not the greatest actor in the world, but perhaps he needed a wretched script to make him look less bad. Qurat ul Ain’s acting perfectly matches her makeup and attire, which after a few seconds you start finding physically painful. Mathira, meanwhile, was roped in to play Mathira.
Now don’t start getting too excited, the music was a calamity as well – except for perhaps Rahat Fateh Ali Khan’s Ishaq Anokhari Peer. Mahiya and Mai Ka Laal not only have terrible melodies, they are some of the worst choreographed songs in the history of Lollywood.
In short, Sirf Tum He Tou Ho or Tum He Tou Ho is the answer to the question, “What’s wrong with Lollywood?”
Unfortunately, it’s a question the filmmakers never asked themselves.