Review: MR. KABAADI

Junk Or Shit? Both Descriptions Would Be Apt.

1 star

Mini Review:

Om Puri, Annu Kapoor, Vinay Pathak, Brijendra Kala and Sarika come together in a film about shit and junk and despite their collective talent, the film is could be described as either. It is about junk collectors called Kabaadi wallahs who become rich by investing some inheritance into public toilets. The essence of the film: respecting your work, no matter how lowbrow gets lost in the sounds of diarrhoea, farts and jokes on shit. This film is so lowbrow you should hold your nose and step away from it. What a shame.

Main Review:

If you wish to gawp at usually decent actors (award winning even) at their worst, hamming and farting and crapping on the screen then this film is for you. The language is a tad confusing, they speak in the manner of people in Bhopal do (aa riya hai, jaa riya hai), but they’re located in Lucknow. Even if you agree that Bhopali people could be living elsewhere, and their accent and manner of speech would be confused (is it Punjabi?). But their speech is the last thing you’d worry about. The bigger problem is that the film is visually mind-numbing.

Except for Sarika, you see each of the famous actors in the loo, with their pants down, from a camera set above their heads. And the once svelte Sarika, making up the vomit-at-sight scenes by the men in the film makes it up by saying ‘Tattiyaan’ (shitter/shit) again and again to make everyone cringe.

So Kallu Kabaadi’s (Annu Kapoor in the most disgusting ‘wannabe rich’ role) tale of wanting to rise up above the scum of junk is told by Channu Khan Surma or Suhaagraat wala itarwale - Om Puri with kohl lined eyes, hot pink hair, moustache and beard and a waistcoat with hearts made with glitter - who plays the ‘sootradhaar’ (storyteller or narrator). If you get over the bizarre get up, you begin to puke at Sarika spitting tooth powder everywhere in the bungalow they move into after an inheritance. No? Then there’s Vinay Pathak, who for some reason tends to cross his eyes when the camera is on him (accompanied by a comic sound). If the filmmaker wants to say that you cannot buy class even though you move into a posh bungalow with a swimming pool, they show them washing clothes…

The family owns public toilets, but tell everyone they own a chain of restaurants, and each time people ask them what is the best dish they serve, someone says, ‘Whatever goes in, is served in our restaurants.’

The victims of this film isn’t the audience, but the young lad (rather presentable, but what a sad debut), his love interest and his sister. The sister is in love with a lad from the North-east of India (people from that part tend to have Asian features) and to our collective horror, not only is he called Chinese, but the background music begins to imitates Chinese song.

There’s more, the fine actor Brijendra Kala is reduced to saying ghastly casteist things, stopping his daughter and yes, he’s shown taking a dump too. The movie is produced by Anup Jalota who is known for his bhajans (religious songs) but this film is so godless and humorless you begin to find junkyard shots better than the people.

There’s not a single frame that makes you think this film could have been redeemed, or that it is a fitting finale film for Om Puri, who is no more. The final nail in this proverbial tale of shitty coffin is Vinay Pathak who asks his family to save water: ‘Everyone in the family should do their business in the same potty, and then flush once.’ Enough said.


(the review appears on nowrunning dot com)