Author's note: Written on 27.03.2006
Ahh! Joy!
How better to spend a sultry Sunday afternoon than being in an air conditioned hall, being on a reclining cushion seat, being relaxed, Being Cyrus. Now, think again!
The camera cranes in and out of dingy, tacky, murky habitats of a Parsi township while the narrative introduces us to Cyrus. A sharp looking youth with something like an identity crisis riding piggyback on him, he steps into this neighbourhood with a keen desire to learn pottery from a master craftsman. This teacher who once scaled remarkable heights, had gradually let himself slip into oblivion, and spent most of his day gazing at the skies or bruising his feet trying to extract flowers that bloomed in an empty well in the backyard.
Whether our hairy potter taught the protegee his much sought after pottery, we do not know. But we are told of his loquacious wife who begins to show an uncanny interest in Cyrus. Soon, the young man finds himself burrowing through the family album and learns that the potter has an old father seemingly fended by a nasty younger son and his young wife.
The potter's wife deploys Cyrus to run a couple of errands for her, wherein he carries chocolates for the old patriarch with a sweet tooth. The potter's younger sibling rasps at him while the young wife politely discourages the unwarranted courtesy.
So far so sane. But just so. Because now the screenplay gets on a pogo stick and hops, skips and does triple somersaults. Cyrus starts having tumults of hallucinations, all of which he throws up at the camera.
And just in time for you to recover from this sudden shock comes the big relief…intermission! Ahh! Joy!
By now, the story has hammered repeatedly at your temples to evince that it's a thriller. Post interval the screenplay caltapults into further delirium. We learn that the potter's wife and her seedy brother in law share a surreptitious equation. An irate mutt next door sinks its teeth into the brother in law. Its owner, an equally irate lady hurls abuses and smashes his car's window. Eventually, a big burly inspector waddles onto the screen, intending to turn the story on its head.
Maybe he actually did something I missed (I was too bored by then) because soon, the plot squirts ketchup on screen, doing away with the croakagenarian and his younger son. Cyrus wipes his hands clean off the conspiracy and consequently, the shifty inspector brings the potter and his shrieking wife to book.
While you sit in your seat wondering if this is the end of the road, an epilogue unfolds in which the suspense finally wriggles out of its cuccoon, turns into a moth, and with one desperate attempt to flap its wings, drops down to the ground. The screen rolls on the credits, announcing much needed freedom. Ahh….Joy!
Homi Adajania has an incredibly tangled ball of yarn at hand, which he aims to undo in a record 85 minutes that leave you exasperated.
Saif Ali Cyrus puts in a confident performance. Almost anybody who can pass off as a Parsi has a role in the movie, Simone singh being the prettiest of them all.
Naseeruddin Shah as the hairy potter fails to wave the magic wand in an unfortunately small role. Dimple is good. So is Boman Irani but you wonder if good is good enough.
Honey Chhaya has the next best role after Saif and the best line in the film - 'At the end of the game, the king and the pawn must go into the same box'.
Pappu Polyester (If I remember his name correctly from the Sword of Tipu Sultan) commands your attention in the cop's guise.
For your safe being, stick to your regular Cyrus on Mtv. He may not be Saif, but he is, at times, entertaining!
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