Mr Bond 303 (1971)
Cast: Rani, Nasrullah Butt, Tarana, Rangeela, Adeeb and Sultan Rahi
Director: Aslam Dar
Synopsis: Trippy local Bond clone’s got it all; cars, guns, girls, chases, action & thrills!
Reviewed by: Omar Khan

As the James Bond phenomenon grew worldwide, it was only a matter of time before Lollywood started producing its clones. The first of many was probably CID in 1969, followed by Dr. Shaitaan the same year, Mr. 420 in 1970, Night Club, Jane Bond 008, and Mr.303 early in 1971. Mera Naam Raja and Black Cat (AKA Lady Boss) were two more memorable ones to follow in the mid to late ‘70s before the genre started flagging ever so slightly as the stylish ‘70s gave way to the Jatt-dominated ‘80s.

What does a desi Bond clone contain? Much the same ingredients as the typical Bond film: girls, guns, chases, spills, thrills, stylish out- fits, trendy locations, nifty gadgets, and megalomaniacal villains, to name just a few essential ingredients. In this respect, 303 doesn’t fail, but as a coherent film with a discernable plot, a beginning, a middle, and an end—this is where this particular Bond clone is a shambolic disaster—it makes little sense at all, and the plot is threadbare at very best. This film is an exercise in presenting a chain of set pieces designed to appear immensely stylish. There are tens of chase scenes, each more laborious than the previous, and numerous idiotic fight cum stunt scenes. Still, overwhelmingly the stage is taken over by pathetic attempts at “stylish comedy,” a la Pink Panther!

This comedy involves, for example, a bunch of shady henchmen following our intensely geekish and irritating Mr. 303. During the chase, 303 takes them in circles around a large circular tomb, and then, in typical cartoon style, 303 steps nonchalantly aside while the henchmen continue to go round and round in circles. This painfully juvenile scene is what takes precedence in this infantile crime caper.

The film begins promisingly enough with Sultan Rahi being framed by the bad guys and forced to join Adeeb’s group of kingpin smugglers. Amidst a flurry of chase scenes and stunts, there is much treachery and skullduggery, and soon the brilliant, monstrously dull Agent 303 is hot in pursuit of the bad guys. They are aided and abetted by a comedian sidekick in the form of a hugely irritating Rangeela, who is given massive license to bore and even granted a tediously unfunny song and dance along the way. Much-needed respite finally arrives in the form of the delectable and shapely Tarana, who plays a mysterious beauty queen in the plush suite of the Capri Hotel, where 303 also has a room. They meet by accident, or so it seems, and though 303 is drawn to her bursting beauty, he manages to keep himself in control like all good secret agents ought to. However, the voluptuous Ms. Tarana, is more than just a shapely bimbo who can shake a leg, as it turns out in a more than shocking twist-laden finale.

The film is nonsensical and atrocious in equally delightful proportions—delightfully awful with a Bond who surely must rank as the least uncharismatic ever (come back, George Lazenby, all is forgiven!). The direction is infantile and aimed at the most undiscerning.

Mr Bond 303

Rani has hardly anything to do but flutter her eyebrows and look dolllike. Nasrullah Butt oozes slime and geekiness as the suave Mr.303, but it is Tarana who steals the show, not only with her bodacious figure but also with that frisky, gap-toothed smile and the twinkle in her eye. Her dance, too, is easily among the few highlights of an otherwise pretty dire affair. The background music lifted from obscure Western elevator rubbish is woefully inappropriate for some of the action scenes where it is used—rendering the scenes quite farcical. The whole movie is not up to scratch despite its early promise. There is far too much emphasis on infantile “Pink Panther-like” cartoon situations, and the attempts at this slapstick-style comedy are nothing short of torture.

The songs by Mala are catchy, dumb, and suitably frivolous, yet they aren’t enough to save the day. Not the best Bond clone to have come out of these parts by a long way, the movie is essential viewing for fans of the genre and its worldwide spin-off clones. Perhaps the best moment of the entire film is when Agent 303 is asked how he likes his tea, to which he responds with typical Bondesque arrogance (and style) that he prefers his tea “stirred but not shaken,” to which his lady friend Tarana coos in delight! For all its dreadfulness, a desi Bond film cannot fail to entertain, and this film certainly will manage to tickle the fancy of those viewers looking for something a little more exotic than big budget Hollywood mainstream.

Mr. 303 is a delightfully dreadful mess of a film—cheap and charming, dumb and delectable all at the same time. 303 falls into the “so bad it’s worth watching” category—truly dire but undoubtedly good for a giggle or two.