Clearly, all the dramatis personae have had a lot of fun making this movie. The first half is a terrific technicolour romp, with everything in place: the super-sized sets, the in-house jokes, and the pokes at all the king-sized stars of the 70s, especially Rajesh Khanna, whose famous adas are aped mercilessly. “Tum bhi apna surname badal kar Khanna, Kapoor ya Khan kar lo, star ban jaogey”, says Shreyas to SRK. It's all nudge-nudge-wink-wink, and very funny, especially one hilarious sequence when SRK hams it up madly as Rajnikanth-the- Rascal, double-barrelled moustache, gun and all.

Post interval, OSO turn into a bit of a bore ( too much repetition, and Farah needs to learn about climaxes: the 70s Ghai could teach her a thing or two in that direction), but by then it doesn't really matter. We have been programmed into like-laugh-out-loud-like mode. SRK, needless to say, is superb. There is no one who can do his combo of I'm-a-regular-guy-but-hey-I'm-the-king better. And newcomer Deepika is a star too: she pulls off, with just a few false steps, her pre-punarjanam avatar of a Hema Malini-like Dream Girl.

But this we have to say: Farah's purnarjanam as a director has meant the demise of Farah the brilliant choreographer — even the most publicised six packs in existence can't enliven a dull-as-ditchwater item number. The 31 stars-in-one-throw is a cracker, though, as SRK prances with what looks like all of the A-list Bollywood. Worth the price of a ticket, even if Man Desai got there first: remember Naseeb?

... contd.