Nazar (2005)
Cast: Meera, Ashmit Patel, Koel Purie
Director: Soni Razdan
Music Director: Anu Malik
Synopsis: dire revamp of "The Eyes of Laura Mars". More crap from the Bhatts
Reviewed by: Faiz Khan

 

The novelty value of Nazar is undeniably high, arriving as it did at a time when India-Pakistan relations were enjoying one of their warmer periods. It was not only the peace process that was crossing the border into Mumbai but also the lure of Bollywood, and who better to seize the opportunity than Pakistan's own Meera. Equally fitting that the Bhatt camp, long advocates of secularism and artistic collaboration, should be the ones to introduce her to Indian audiences.

For that alone, the Bhatts deserve credit. They helped open Bollywood's doors to Pakistani talent at a time when such gestures carried genuine symbolic value. Cynics will undoubtedly argue that it was simply about making money. I prefer to believe there was rather more goodwill behind the decision. One only wishes those good intentions had translated into a better film.

Nazar is preposterously awful.

The first surprise is that Soni Razdan—otherwise known as Mrs Bhatt—could direct something this crude and inept. The second is that Meera genuinely believed this would be the vehicle to announce herself to Indian cinema. Presumably the hope was for another Murder—in more ways than one—a low-budget Bhatt thriller loosely "inspired" by Hollywood, produced on a shoestring and destined to make a healthy profit.

Not this time.

The film opens with Meera performing a dance number on the beach, clearly intended to introduce her to Indian audiences. The sequence immediately evokes comparisons with Urmila Matondkar, although that is probably unfair—to Urmila. Meera simply lacks the grace, charisma and effortless physicality that made Urmila such an electric screen presence. Unsurprisingly, the performance turns out to be part of a music video shoot, our heroine apparently being something of a pop sensation... well, not quite.

Driving home that night, she begins experiencing terrifying visions. A young woman appears standing in the road and is almost run over, seemingly lying dead before suddenly rising and whispering something to our horrified heroine, who promptly faints.

We later discover that Meera's parents were both killed in a car accident, although exactly what relevance this has to the story is difficult to remember. What follows is a procession of increasingly lurid visions, recalling the equally dreadful Eyes of Laura Mars, where our heroine cannot see the killer himself but somehow witnesses each murder as it happens.

Investigating the case is the diminutive but highly irritating police officer played by Koel Purie. You know almost immediately that she is destined to become entangled in something unpleasant. She enlists the help of Ashmit Patel, a brooding detective still haunted by the murder of his wife—or was it his girlfriend? Frankly, by this stage it scarcely matters.

Convinced the killings are connected to the criminal responsible for his own tragedy, he begins pursuing the case. From there the film descends into complete absurdity, drowning itself in gratuitous gore and increasingly nonsensical plotting before limping towards a final twist that few audience members are likely to care enough to stay for.

Soni Razdan's directorial debut is a major disappointment. Given the pedigree of the Bhatt camp, one expected something considerably more accomplished. Instead we are subjected to an endless parade of knives, arterial bloodletting and cheap sensationalism masquerading as suspense.

Meera makes a reasonably confident debut and certainly has enough screen presence to hold the camera's attention, but she is hardly the great revelation that the publicity suggested. If she was intended as Pakistan's answer to Aishwarya Rai, one is left wondering what Pakistan might have produced for the lesser heroines of Bollywood. Still, she has landed the central role, and the film revolves almost entirely around her. Unfortunately, she often looks more like Ashmit Patel's mother than his romantic co-star.

Ashmit Patel fares even worse. He resembles someone who has wandered off the set of Chicken Run. Not only is he painfully lightweight as a screen presence, but he proves to be a truly dreadful actor. Beside him, Emraan Hashmi begins to resemble Marlon Brando.

The music is utterly forgettable. Not a single song lingers once the end credits roll.

This one is strictly for the most die-hard Meera devotees—and perhaps patriotic Pakistanis curious to see one of their own in Bollywood. Everyone else should steer well clear.