Director: Gurmmeet Singh
Rating: 2 stars
Sharafat Gayi Tel Lene is better than I had expected. It actually has a strong, interesting plot. But, unfortunately, it places at the centre of its story the two worst possible non-actors. But, first, the good part.
Sharafat Gayi... is set in Delhi where Prithvi Khurana (Zayed Khan) is a simple, lowly paid architect who is in love with Megha (Tena Desai). A more bland couple if you find, I’ll forward your name for this year’s hathi ki savari on Republic Day.
Thankfully, what Megha and Prithvi don’t provide, Sam does. Sam (Rannvijay Singh) is Prithvi’s room-mate, a no-gooder who sleeps in his underwear and leans on obliging friends for rent money and drinks. He seems more into Prithvi than Megha will ever be.
Prithvi, who has been saving money for a simple engagement ring and dinner with Megha, withdraws careful little amounts from this account. She’s delighted and all the money is over. Prithvi returns to the ATM for some more cash only to get, well, shocked. Something is wrong. Very seriously wrong.
But before he can go meet the bank manager, the bank manager comes calling. It’s all very bewildering for both Prithvi and Sam who is let in on the facts and figures immediately. Then there’s a phone call from a private number. A guttural voice issues instructions and Prithvi, Sam and Prithvi’s Maruti 800 get tied up in the role of couriers. Prithvi is scared to say no, scared to go to the cops, scared to tell Megha. But Megha figures something is wrong, and runs to Chadha uncle (Yuri Suri), a cop, who is of no consequence really, but is entertaining.
Caught in the bewildering cycle of phone calls, deliveries, one Goth diva, irritated Megha, the creepy bank manager, Prithvi doesn’t know what’s going one till somethings goes wrong... Then toh, sharafat gayi tel lene.
Though the film’s plot is intriguing and keeps us interested, its resolution is weak and the direction is lackadaisical and disappointing. But nowhere as disappointing as Zayed Khan and Tena Desai.
Ms Desai needs to focus on still shoots for online shopping. Moving images is not her thing.
Zayed Khan seems to have been dragged out from wherever he’d been snoozing for the last couple of years against his will. He is unkempt and in need of a tumble wash and dry. Where ever he was, rest assured, he wasn’t at an acting school.
He still acts like a trained pet would respond to short, loud instructions: “Zayed, quake with fear.” He quakes. “Zayed, stop.” He stops. What that begets is a priceless blank expression which can be and is used in every situation and scene in the film where quivering is not required.
Rannvijay Singh overacts but that’s necessary because the dim, spud-like thing next to him is doing nothing. Oh ya, he’s quaking.