Confusing, mindless, misplaced
eroticism and clueless, Befikre will leave a question mark on your face at the
end. The story line is wayward and irrelevant. I was lost several times during
this film. The present scene doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the
previous one. Its like watching many short irrelevant clips continuously. The
director makes up for the disconnections by the exotic locales of Paris,
copious exposures of beautiful bodies of the leads, continuous yet passionless
on screen smooching scenes and a constant undertone of sex.
Ranvir Singh looks good
on the screen and knows his act very well now. He sells himself in the film
convincingly, inspite of an irrelevant script. That is definitely appreciable.
But his role is the same, the one of the alpha male, cocky, hypersexual and a
text book Casanova. Vaani Kapoor doesn’t look natural. She has that quality of
the NRI returned to India to try her hand in Bollywood with discomfort with the
Hindi language. The usual and clichéd Indian nostalgia in a foreign land shows
up again as her parents refer to Indian customs, traditions and food. Ranvir is
constantly cracking jokes trying to prove the character’s overdose of
testosterone. Most of those jokes have
either been repeated or not funny.
A borrowed idea from Hollywood and desperate
attempt to make it relevant to the Indians by shoving titillating erotic and
sexual frames, this film will leave you
lost and imbalanced. The only thing good about this film are two songs which
are worth listening to, more than once.
Rating – 1 /5
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