At some point, Figs’ father (Tom Alter in an ill-fitting suit) shared, “You need to stop running if you want to find what you’re looking for.” For the audience, the answer lies outside the screen.

Only one piece of advice for those rushing to catch this: carry along a chastity belt. It would be useful only if worn over the head, covering your eyes and ears.

Writer-director Ali Abbas Zafar, whose filmography includes lacklustre films like Mere Brother Ki Dulhan and Gunday, breaks a jinx with this delightful flick. He builds the muscled monolith’s narrative effectively to garner empathy for his turbulent journey.

Veteran Ashutosh Rana is mostly contained and Jimmy Shergill is controlled in his insults. But Turkish debutant Suha Gezen is a bit too loud by average sonic standards of someone grieving multiple setbacks. A highoctane dialogue in the film reinstates the supposed moral of the film, “Dangon mein Hindu ya Mulasmaan nahin marta, insaniyat marta hain.” While this is true, watching this film till the very end can be terminal for audiences of all religions too.

This film also challenges Google’s inability in answering all questions of life. The questions put forth to illustrate this point include, “How do you increase the sales of a cooking oil manufacturer?, and “Why did Beyonce apologise to a NASA scientist.” Yes, this was covered in a physics class. To evade legal proceedings from the internet giant, a suitable disclaimer that praises the world’s most popular internet search engine, is tucked into the end credits. This one, is only to caution audiences.

Indian slasher films (the few that have managed to be produced) have been typical fare: solely focusing on the act and the investigation that leads to the capture of the offender. But Raman Raghav 2.0 offers access to the dark mental alleys of its troubled hero, so much so that his parallel world and sick mind achieve a twisted logic. This one’s certainly not a date film. But hey, a jolty squeeze on the upper arm can do much for your love life.

…the film takes a preachy stance in repeatedly conveying the debilitating life of addicts. It adopts a Films Division documentary approach in a tedious sequence that explains the supply chain operation of various drugs.

This film portrays Rajasthan as the land of the forever happy – where breaking into a song doesn’t warrant an excuse and ghevar is the national sweet and acceptable main course. The film’s one-dimensional storyline desperately seeks conflict but only ends up straying from uncertainties, much like Ram Gopal Varma films evade a steady camera.

Like any thriller, the money here is on figuring out the perpetrator, hopefully before those hunting the person in the film can.

It’s upsetting that Ram Gopal Varma fans have to put up with this. Even the very few and far between visual flourishes are merely reminders of an auteur that was.