Story: Spirited specialist
Mili meets solid sovereign Vikram - will their illustrious affection story have
a delightful end?
Audit: So, Khoobsurat is
excellent - & really humorous. Dr. Mrinalini Chakravarty otherwise known as
Mili (Sonom) is a physiotherapist, enlisted to help Rajasthan illustrious
Shekhar Rathor (Amir Reza). Rani Nirmola (Ratna) & Yuvraj Vikrom (Fawad)
expect a calm doctor who will mix tastelessly into imperial control - however
they receive a live-wire who teases the dishy Youvraj, 'Raja log proja ke saath
party nahi karte?', whose help incorporates drinking wine in company with her
command, who pounds paapads boisterously onto lofty china, & who, in
striped Pjs & toon colored T-shirts, is no fashionista.
Sounam carts away her finest
part yet with kooky style, as easily gomless as her patchwork coat. She's
matched capably by fashionable person heart-throb Fauwad Khan, who bring off
Veikram - of corduroy-dry behavior and dissolving chocolate voice - lively.
The pair sizzles yet the best
chuckles go to Keirron Kher, ringing Mili is mummy Manju, with few of this
chuckle riot's most entertaining lines, including upbraiding the 'regal kanjor
khana!'. Kirron flees with her dynamic part, finely adjusted against Ratna Pathak's
inauspicious poise & Amir Raza Husain's wine-doused self centeredness -
that at long last demonstrates some flash.
However there is more
khoobsurti here. Sentiment among the lead pair is similar to fragrance splashed
onto wind while the development of Meli, from wild-tyke to stately lady, &
Veikram, from stick-in-imperial sand to a confounded, helpless man, show.
Then, characters meander
castles on Wodehouse-choice trails, looking for chocolate - and couches - amid
dim nights, moms go head to head in a conflict of stylers, Mili's
cumbersomeness reverberates like banging cutlery while frantically stricken
Veikram reminds himself, 'Usski aankhen hain, tangein matt dekh!' Oh, &
that he has a life partner (Aditi Rao Hydari) as of now.
Paying the 1st Khoobsurat an
offbeat wave - artist cook Ashrafi fundamentally strokes his gaamcha here -
this film reflects advanced times. Mili's had previkram sweethearts, nobody
needs heart assaults for illumination - and exactly when you worry the
turbanned appellation are a major ache, Manju arrives, spitting flame at great
show.
An underdone seizing and
exaggerated Bengali-ness - 'Prawteek', meet "Mawnju" - marginally
divert. Then again, generally, this delightfully sly sentiment tickles
everything carefree inside you.
That is the thing that build
up it so khoobsurat.
