The film directed by Prashant Chadha stars Himesh as himself, a singing sensation from India who's currently in Germany on a concert tour.While in Germany, Himesh is accused of murdering a television journalist and as a result, he is arrested by the local police. Meanwhile, he's also fallen for a pretty young girl who’s handling his events schedule, and surprise surprise, she seems to return the sentiment.
But now that he's been charged with murder, her daddy won't allow her to have anything to do with this singing-dancing criminal. For Himesh, or HR as he's affectionately referred to in the film, there's only one thing left to do: he must prove his innocence, and win back his ladylove.
The problem with Aap Kaa Surroor is that it takes itself way too seriously. And that's a problem because you and me and everyone in the audience isn't exactly taking this film too seriously.
I think we see this film as the result of one man's misplaced sense of self-importance, even as an indulgence on the part of Himesh. Which is why it's absolutely hilarious to see him all shaven chest, dressed in shirts with plunging necklines, serenading the heroine like a 21-year-old chocolate hero.
That scene in which he meets the heroine for the first time will go down in film history as one of the stupidest boy-meets-girl scenes.
Never before has the Gayatri Mantra been used more inappropriately than in Aap Kaa Surroor, in which it's used as background score, a mobile ringtone, and even a pop tune that Himesh belts out on his guitar.
All blame for this nonsense must be directed towards the screenplay which is cliched, unimaginative and amateurish to say the least. When the writers can't come up with an original enough idea to show why the heroine starts falling for Himesh, they shamelessly throw in a little orphan girl with a terminal illness, who Himesh predictably treats like an angel.
As for that scene in which the heroine says she's the luckiest girl in the world because she's managed to take a picture of Himesh flashing his elusive smile, I have to say it's more a gaping-mouthed jackass-like laughter which is now captured on camera for posterity.
Alas, as entertainingly idiotic this film is, it's still not entertaining enough to forgive it all its faults. We're led to believe that this television journalist showed up at Himesh's door seeking an interview, while all along she was performing a sting operation on him.
My very simple question to the writers of the film: why was she conducting a sting operation on him? We've been given no reason to believe he's a Shakti Kapoor-kind of lech who was waiting to be trapped.
Also, isn't it a little too convenient that the murder mystery which the German police haven't been able to solve, is cracked within minutes by Himesh and his band of jokers?
The only time you really smile with the film is when they crack those in-jokes, those smart one-liners directed at themselves. Like that joke on Himesh's nasal voice, and the one about his obsession with hats.
The autorickshaw scene, however, is neither funny nor clever, it's really quite stupid. How did those autos land up in Germany is what I really want to know!
In his new avatar as an actor, Himesh Reshammiya is evidently out of place. Dialogue delivery is clearly not his strength, perhaps that's why his lines are few and far between.
However, he does have guts, I must admit, for putting himself in a position where many will undoubtedly mock him. And not without reason either.
But as a singer and a composer, Himesh hits all the right notes again with Aap Kaa Surroor whose biggest strength is undoubtedly Himesh's superhit soundtrack.
It's a pity poor Mallika Sherawat can't do much to elevate your spirits, but that's because she's straitjacketed in a role that's badly written and does little justice to her screen presence.
Newcomer Hansika Motwani is what I'd call a dalda-ka-dubba, all fair and chubby and pleasant, but with very little personality.
Hopefully from this moment on, Himesh will abandon all his acting ambitions and concentrate on his music instead.
