The screenplay is just as dim-witted. In one of the scenes, Leone hands Hooda a love letter, which the latter sniffs as if it’s English Lavender. It’s some cheap brand of stinky orange-red ink, of course, passed off as Leone blood scribbling lines you’ll only read in amateur teen romances, ‘You came into my life like the moon.’

Bol Bachchan is dispensable cinema, forgotten almost immediately after it’s over. What I kept wondering is how does Asrani who acted in Mukerjee’s acclaimed films like Chupke Chupke, Abhimaan, Bawarchi feel about working in the remake of a film where the hero wore his kurta. Don’t know what I’m talking about? You deserve Bol Bachchan. But if you do, you must have already begun scouting for your copy of Gol Maal somewhere.

What’s the point of telling three different love stories if you plan to give them a similar finish off? The whole exercise seems plain cosmetic. But till the point the make-up doesn’t wear off, Teri Meri Kahaani is a far better film than I came to see.

This is not The Firm and its sloppily written script is incapable of constructing gravity or drama. Blood Money is inexcusably one-note and short on buildup — things just happen one after the other like a flat, muted series of badly-shot stilted music videos. The songs (by Jeet Gannguli) are as monotonous as the insipid visuals they accompany.

The real problem with this official remake of The Italian Job is that instead of reproducing a perfectly nuanced screenplay as it is, it tries to act too smart, with excessive elements and needless tampering, in the process making a complete fool of itself. Why can’t you stick to the plan, Bollywood? All this time we witness our filmmakers rip-off Hollywood scene-by-scene but the minute they acquire rights, they are hit by an army of brainwaves or an insuppressible need to improvise (read flounder).

Rascals, with no structure or motive, cannot (rather does not even try to) conceal its desperation to make itself funny. And this insecurity shows in each and every gag.

Force never had much to accomplish in the first place. But its complete lack of individuality or snap makes it a boring, banal, blah and bleak experience.

Mere Brother Ki Dulhan is a pretty ordinary effort. It’s the kind of movie where everyone looks catalogue cool and beams with enthusiasm to make the going-ons appear droll and exciting. And though one’s a sourpuss for not buying it, I’ll take the risk of being one.

Before slumping into a silly space of trashy humour and hasty sentimentality, Bodyguard intermittently comes alive with a swashbuckling Sallu engaging in some SFX-aided action.

Shabri, despite its many flaws, watchable if not memorable.