Film: Badass Ravikumar
Cast: Himesh Reshammiya, Prabhu Deva, Kirti Kulhari
Directed by: Keith Gomes
Duration: 2 hours 22 minutes
Rating: ⭐⭐
Badass Ravikumar is a film that features a hero whose presence is punctuated by the repetitive background music screaming “Badass, badass”, ensuring that the title remains at the forefront of the viewer’s mind. This film, directed by Keith Gomes, serves as an unabashed homage to the cinematic style of the 1980s, where logic often takes a backseat. While it includes some weighty dialogues, it lacks the distinctive charm and absurdity characteristic of that era’s films.
The opening credits humorously declare that “Logic is optional”, a sentiment that seems to resonate with many contemporary films. The narrative introduces Ravi Kumar (Himesh Reshammiya), detailing his childhood, the separation from his brother, and the death of their father. Now a police officer, Ravi Kumar has embraced a “badass” persona, opting for a chainsaw over a knife for self-defense. Despite facing suspension on multiple occasions, his services are once again called upon by Bharat Mata. This time, he is tasked with travelling to Oman to recover a physical reel containing sensitive information about India’s military forces.
The antagonist, Carlos Pedro Panther (Prabhu Deva), boasts a flamboyant name and a striking appearance, complete with a red suit and golden boots, as he seeks to obtain the reel. This reel is currently held by Laila (Kirti Kulhari), who once harboured feelings for Ravikumar, only to be driven to distraction by his affection for her sister, Madhubala, which was reciprocated.
“You are very negative and I hate negativity,” says Ravi Kumar before bumping off a bad guy. The dialogue continues to flow consistently, with lines such as, “Tu bade hoke bigda hoga, main bachpan se hi kharaa bhoon.” He also says, “Jo Ravi Kumar se ulajhta hai, uske photo mein.”
In order to obtain the reel, he must steal a valuable necklace from a highly secured location, employing a tactic reminiscent of Dharmendra’s approach in Shalimar (1978). His ability to sing and dance proves advantageous, as Sunny Leone makes a cameo appearance, and their performance serves to distract the guards.
However, the musical numbers detract from the already limited momentum of the film; one of the songs is titled Tandoori Days, leaving one to ponder what might follow—perhaps Paneer Nights? The acting leaves much to be desired. While it is clear that logic was not a priority in this film, one would expect at least a modicum of competent filmmaking.