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Full disclosure : I ran for my life in about an hour from this atrocity which calls itself a film, but which is nothing but a series of dismal, embarrassing scenes interspersed with songs that are even more so.
Two no-good guys called Prantabh Pratap aka PP ( Samrat) and Anand Ishwaram Devdutt Subramaniam aka AIDS ( Amrohi, the grandson of Kamal ) are allegedly TV reporters. We are meant to laugh at their names and their antics, which include dancing to songs that topline shaking butts, propping up the corpse of a dead politician, and lusting after their hot, leggy boss ( Dias).
This boss wears tight, short skirts, strokes her bare legs, and barks at these two: ‘jao kuchh murder ya rape ki khabar le ke ao’. Or words to that effect. I heard the word ‘rape’ bandied about thrice in quick succession, and I was wondering just how that could be funny, when I got distracted with Dias yelling : “laash kahaan hai, laash?”
‘O Teri’ has the temerity to call our attention to that great black comedy, ‘Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron’ : replacing those memorable photographers with these dimwit TV reporters, adding in a dead body with a fixed grin on its face, and mixing it up with corrupt `netas’ and complicit journalists does not a comedy make, black or otherwise.
The jokes are puerile, the gags flat. Veteran Anupam Kher hams it up, so does Vijay Raaz. There was nothing to hold me back, not even Ms Bedi in her noodle straps.
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