The heroine tries to smoulder over the sea-splashed boulder. Yup, the beach is back… and the intentions are bolder! …Or so the film’s voluptuous publicity suggests. Alas, for those who expect a whole lotta oomph to be crammed into the thriller, there’s bad news.
Meera’s Bollywood debut proves her to be a competent actress. But she doesn’t have that oomph quality which would have elevated the film’s mass-acceptance level.
Given its limitations, Nazar is a bit of a damp squib. The director Soni Razdan’s loose grip over her plot is matched by an absence of technical wherewithal in the story.
All through the longish drama, we are treated to the protagonist’s purportedly eerie hallucinations.
Meera can ‘see’ the dead before they die. It’s too bad she doesn’t get us involved in the way the other film does. The fault lies not so much with the central performance as the failure of the director to create an ambience conducive to constant fear and foreboding.
There are too many destructive distractions. At one point in the second half, she runs out of plot and takes the lead couple for a song under the waterfall.
The plot never re-surfaces from the watery diversion. Though debutant director Soni Razdan doesn’t apply brakes in the narrative for a song or a comic romp, she constantly keeps putting the characters into crises that seem complex from above but are pretty absurd in close-up.
The four main characters, an actress (if the smoulder-on-the-boulder qualifies as such), a cop (Ashmit Patel with hair almost as lengthy as the narrative), the cop’s colleague (Koel Puri, squinting her eyes into a Chinese grimace), and a doctor (Aly Khan, whose stethoscope dangles as low as his chin when Meera brushes his advances under the culprit).
So who’s the killer? Ah, that would be telling. Regrettably, Nazar isn’t very good at that. The storytelling is pale and uninviting. The zero chemistry between the lead pair makes matters worse. While Meera looks a lot larger than Ashmit Patel, he walks around looking more like a drum player in a garage rock band than a cop. Given a crisis, she’d probably protect him instead of vice versa.
(An aside: why do the Bhatts always cast so badly in cop roles: Emran Hashmi in their last production, Zehar, looked as much like a cop as Patel in Nazar).
The tentative scene stealer is the talented Koel Puri, who struggles to invest a semblance of intelligence into a film that’s structured like a de-escalating whodunit. Throughout, we sense a catastrophe far beyond the immediate crisis, namely the serial killing of beer-bar dancers.
“Ha, serial killings happen only in Hollywood films,” scoffs senior cop Avtar Gill.
They sure do, and far more professionally. The buildup and the denouement in Nazar are amateurish enough to make the next episode of the long-running TV series CID look like Hitchcock’s Psycho.
A serious psychological subtext is lacking in Nazar. There is an attempt to introduce ‘issues’ such as the plight of beer-bar dancers and the HIV virus into the plot. But the narrative just doesn’t seem to support ideas that go beyond the shallow ‘slasher’ aspirations of the product.
Watch out for Gujarati stage actress Sarita Joshi in one red-light sequence and Neena Gupta’s Sufiyana qawwalli. They both go over the top. But no sweat. Self-control isn’t one of this film’s primary virtues.
Speaking on Nazar, director Soni Razdan had told Subhash K. Jha, “I’ve directed Nazar. It’s entirely my film. My husband, Mahesh Bhatt, was on his best behaviour. He let me be completely. I cannot thank Mahesh enough for giving me the responsibility.”
