MASTIZAADE comes across as a ludicrous movie with an absurdly inept story and screenplay. After the initial hysteria subsides, the film will struggle at the box office due to its weak content.
Look, there's nothing wrong with stupid film, says a frustrated Raja Sen. Or, heaven forbid, with sexy films. Or films that delight in being a cross between the two. Yet, if such objects to arouse pre-pubescent sweat must be made, why can't they be funny?
Honestly, this film looks like a better version of last week's Kyaa Kool Hain Hum 3 because it has Sunny instead of Mandana Karimi. Otherwise, it is just as blah. No attempt is made at a screenplay; no one attempts to act either.
Having suffered through two hours of non-stop crassness, I am sorry to tell you that there are barely two-and-a-half laughs in ‘Mastizaade’. The alleged ‘masti’ is so ‘sasti’, that you are left cringing rather than cracking up.
Mastizaade isn’t even a movie. For almost the entirety of its run time, it feels like getting screamed at by a pissed off plastic clown. It’s as pointless as a punctured condom. It’s as ghastly as a bad boob job. It’s like entering a lunatic pervert’s Internet search history tab and discovering only cake recipes. Let me repeat: Mastizaade isn’t a movie. It’s a bunch of sweaty sleazeballs exploiting Sunny Leone’s star power and straight up robbing your cash. Don’t let them.
For some, the promise of two Sunny Leones for the price of one may be enough to invest in a ticket of Mastizaade. But believe me, there is such a thing as too much heaving bosom and jiggling backside. I found myself cringing more than laughing at the film’s idea of outrageous, adult humor.