The film goes through several decades of fads and fashion changes until it comes to a screeching halt with a finale that is as pointless as the prattle and preening that goes on for the most tiresome two hours of your life. Parineeti did this far better in 'Haseen Toh Phasee'.Īyushmann as the hangdog loverboy is the saving grace of this dreadfully vapid non-romance about an annoyingly self-centred chick who needs to exercise some self-discipline (unless she thinks Kangana Ranaut in 'Queen' is a role-model) and a guy who needs to get himself a life. It is therefore surprising that their keen appetite for the melodies of the past do not render themselves to any substantial or coherent commitment to creating a film about a quirky girl and her devoted nextdoor neighbour who serves her purposes, whatever they may be.

Both Ayushmann and Parineeti are musicians. There is something distinctly stilted and artificial in the way the songs define the central relationship. It is how we see a Bengali household when the Bengali writer detaches himself from the milieu and language to the extent that he can no longer peer into the cultural dynamics without appearing touristic. This is not an authentic Bengali household. They are clownishly Bengali, screaming and bustling as though Kolkata was on fire. But the proceedings are as dull as ditchwater with scene after scene serenading nostalgia with no room for the characters to grow beyond stereotypes. It is correct historically culturally but lifeless.ĭitto, the film which is as immaculately assembled in a retro huddle as Suprotim Sengupta's writing permits. This is a scene straight of a promotional film on Doordarshan's glorious era. 'Aaiye meherbaan dekhiye jaan-e-jaan' plays on a black-and-white television set as some poor man hangs by the roof adjusting the antenna. The cultural mishmash ceases to amusing after a while.Ĭlearly, Akshay Roy has a lot of fun picking out nostalgic nuggets from our musical past. This is life in the fast lane where middleaged Bengali men speak of Satyajit Ray in the same breath as Bindu's on screen vamping. 'Why couldn't he name me Saira? So much sexier,' she drawls into the ear of Abhi (na ja chhod kar) as they zigzag in an old Ambassador car through the Kolkata of the 1980s. Parineeti Chopra playing the unstable undependable runaway bride to the stable dependable rock-steady dulha material of a hero,explains that she was named after Saira Banu's character in the evergreen comedy 'Padosan'. The film's most embarrassing sequence has Abhi's parents enacting the Kishore Kumar song in a car park.Ĭringe late. Then there is the film's 'Padosan'-inspired title. There is a lot to 'get' in 'Meri Pyaari Bindu' including its corny cross references to films about unrequited love like Karan Johar's 'Ae Dil Hai Muskhil' and Nikhil Advani's 'Katti Batti'.

Abhi na jao chhod kar meri pyari bindu