The film’s title is a misnomer. It should have been Many Pahelis Leela, because all through this terrible drag, I kept trying to solve several puzzles with no success, coming up with a big zero in the end.
What is it about? Is it about Meera (Sunny Leone), a London-based model with a fear of flying, who finds herself in Rajasthan in the silliest possible manner? Or is it about Leela (Sunny Leone, again) who lived three 100 years ago, but whose make-up and artfully cut ‘cholis’ dipping to her shapely navel, which sways dizzyingly on the dunes, suggest that she’s just finished slipping into her costume and come on set? Or is it about getting Ms Leone in as many money shots—torso, waist, back, legs, bare, barer, barest—as possible, Meera, Leela, who cares?
Who is Karan? Or for that matter Bhairon, or Shravan, or Ranveer, or Bikram? (Jay Bhanushali, Dev, Duggal, Ahlawat, Arora respectively) All they seem to do is hover around Meera/Leela, whether it is in the present or the past, listening to her squeal girlishly in her modern-day avatar, or go the cringe-inducing ‘tharo-mharo-khamaghani’ squeaky-dub route, back in the day. Were they all chosen on the basis of how buff they are?
How long does Bollywood expect us to sit through the most moth-eaten ‘punar-janam’ stories? How long will Rajasthan exotica continue to act as a hook for palaces, princes, ‘leheriya safas’, and hilariously menacing villains who go about whipping nubile young things and their lovers into submission?
Why, in fact, pretend towards a plot, when all this film wants to do is to exploit its leading lady’s awe-inspiring stack? From as many angles as possible, the closer the better? Who gave India’s Babydoll reason to believe that she could go beyond ‘sone di and pittal di’ with this bilge?
Wh.. Ah, hang it. One last, and I’m done playing twenty questions. All I really want to know is, who will give me my three precious hours back?