In Priyadarshan's latest film, Akshay Kumar, playing a miserable indentured chauffeur, whines about the state of his ragged uniform. He speaks of how the belt is held up by a pyjama drawstring, how the button is hanging on for dear life, and how there's really nothing holding it together.
He may well have been speaking of the film itself, a loud, overlong collection of slapstick subplots that would have nothing in common but for one man.
Priyadarshan, refusing as always to call himself a director -- 'filmed by,' proclaim his credits -- attempts to stitch together this ragtag quilt in his usual style, ending up with a stupidly elaborate monstrosity.
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