KLPD — short for *beep* *beep* *beep* *beep* — is a north Indian slang, the most printable definition of which is sexual frustration arising out of rejection.
KLPD — short for Kismat Love Paisa Dilli — is a horrific trip to the movies, armed with risqué jokes, loud physical comedy and locker-room humour.
The name itself should have spelt it out loud and clear. But nothing really can prepare you for the assault on the senses that KLPD actually is.
Director Sanjay Khanduri derives the basic template for this over-the-top, tasteless comedy from his own film — Ek Chaalis Ki Last Local starring Abhay Deol and Neha Dhupia that chronicled the events of a single night in Mumbai in the aftermath of the protagonists missing the last local train. But while that was an intriguing watch propped up by decent performances from its lead pair, KLPD, which shifts focus from Mumbai to Delhi and from local train to swanky Metro, is crass and crude, forcing you to contemplate heading for the exit even just as you have settled into your plex seat.
Here we have Lokesh Duggal (Vivek Oberoi), a loud Delhi lout who makes a play for anything in a skirt. Spying sexy Lovina (Mallika Sherawat) in a party, he follows her to the Metro station in the neighbourhood, hoping to score with her. However, what Lokesh doesn’t know is that a tape with top-secret information has somehow made its way to his waistcoat pocket. When everyone — wily politician to corrupt cop to a political party wanting to expose the politician — gets hot on his heels to lay their hands on the tape, Lokesh and Lovina spend a night playing hide-and-seek in the nooks and corners of the capital. It doesn’t help that they have to contend with a down-on-luck restaurant delivery boy (Anshuman Jha) who suddenly starts biting off his customers’ ears and a gang of small-time goons, whose leader (Ashutosh Rana) is looking for some much-needed excitement on his birthday. How does he get it? By slapping anyone who comes within five inches of him!
KLPD has all the ingredients that can make you squirm in your seat. Gross gags involving urine, fart jokes and even mock rape scenes are played out in a desperate bid to make the audience laugh. The film’s tasteless humour takes a dig at everything from homosexuality to Sardars. By interval point, you know that it is only going to go downhill.
The premise of a couple being chased throughout the city in the dead of the night had the potential to be a smart comic thriller, but Khanduri’s below-the-belt jokes only target belly laughs, which anyway are few and far between. The crazy characters on the prowl only add to the mess that KLPD already is.
Vivek Oberoi is earnest in parts, but is completely miscast as a street-smart, horny bloke, his discomfort with the role clearly showing up as the film progresses. All her PR machinery — close-dancing with Antonio Banderas to dining with Barack Obama — can’t turn Mallika Sherawat into a good actress, for whom KLPD is the first major role after a string of item numbers. To cast her as a simple, helpless girl is a case study in classic miscasting. In KLPD, she doesn’t even ooze enough oomph for the audience to look beyond her lack of even basic acting ability.
Our definition of KLPD at the end of this tortuous watch? Keep Long and Permanent Distance (from)!