First off, let's take the Baweja lad. A simian version of Hrithik Roshan this significantly untalented child tragically does everything in his power to accentuate the similarity with the star. From angular sideburns to v-necked bodyfitting t-shirts to dance moves and even accent replication methodical enough to be the work of a mimic, he tries to be Hrithik.
Except, he can't act. He doesn't look good. He doesn't have screen presence. Alright sure, these things can come about in time, and he is the producer/director's son, so he could get a dozen chances. But yet, he bravely tries to be HR, doing everything short of sticking on a prosthetic thumb, poor sod. That hara-kiri aside, he comes across as a whiney-voiced pansy, and clearly a brat, getting to showboat in Harry Baweja's oh-look directorial effort -- as in, look-my-son-can-drive-fast, look-my-son-can-cycle-fast, look-my-son-can-run-fast... ad nauseaum.
The story -- since a few may inexplicably, masochistically, still be curious -- is set in Australia in 2008, where after Boy and Girl enjoy a rather pre-teen kinda romance, one of 'em pops it. The other sets off in a time machine to Mumbai in 2050, on a hunt for the -- wait for it -- reincarnated better half.
Nope, no kidding. Apparently, the machine is set only to that date. Of course, on reaching 2050 the fact that the machine can now travel back to four days ago and save the partner doesn't strike anybody -- including mad doctor Boman who, despite being 42 years out of his depth, acts as an oracular authority on all things futuristic, seconds after landing there. Anyway, the reincarnated romantic is found, easily accessed, eventually convinced and all things look set to head back to 2008... except there's an inconsequential masked villain looming over things. Groan.
If this is the Future, that fantastic singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen was right: 'brother, it is murder.'
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