Hate story is neither spectacular, nor boring. It falls somewhere in between.

A weak script and an overall weak acting in the movie is what have stopped the movie from creating an erotic impact.

Hate Story works partly because of its bold heroine and partly because it really is an interesting thriller that keeps you hooked till the clumsy end. But it could have been so much more had the script been more cohesive.

On the whole, HATE STORY banks on the age-old vendetta theme, but what takes it beyond the mediocre mark is the cat and mouse game played by the protagonist and antagonist, besides, of course, the bold and provocative scenes that add spice to the proceedings. Though engaging in parts, there’s no denying that the second hour seizes your attention, making it a watchable experience.

Hate Story doesn’t do either of these, and instead moans a lot. Literally. There is so much audible huffing, grunting, puffing, sighing, groaning and wheezing in this film that it feels like watching Rafa Nadal play Maria Sharapova with Monica Seles [ Images ] occasionally swinging by to show them how to achieve proper volume from the baseline. All these sounds are punctuated by ludicrous dialogue delivered so poorly (and loudly) that it fails even to achieve so-bad-its-good status. Pity, that.

There are memorable shots – Dam staring with agonised eyes at Sid’s office while having car-sex with a stranger outside, a moment of acute tension when she meets Raj’s wife in court. One more encounter follows – but let’s leave something to the imagination. Appreciate, if you will, the thriller, not the diet-erotica – that’s rather an anti-climax.

If in The Dirty Picture, Vidya Balan wore her sexuality on her sleeve, in Hate Story, Paoli uses her sexuality like a favoured currency in the stock market. Hate Story pushes the envelope so hard, all the contents spill out in a torrential tumble of tantalising power-play set within the world of corporate battles and gender conflicts.This is a most riveting and aesthetic saga of a woman’s revenge against the man who’s wronged her since RK Nayyar’s Inteqaam – except for the fact that Paoli does things Sadhana in Nayyar’s film could have never imagined.

So what we get is an oomphy, oozy femme who is uninhibitedly fatale, and capable of steaming things up, but stuck in a story which starts off as credible but all too soon plunges us into a pit of disbelief. And treatment which drags it out too long, minus slickness. We are not going near the plotholes because that would be a long list. Suffice it to say that they are so glaring in places, that you miss out on some not-so-bad parts of this film, chief of which are a few strong scenes by the main performers.