Game

There are many rhyming adjectives that come to mind when you think of Game—lame, tame, shame, inane, strain, pain. It borrows its imagery from foreign films and is stylish to look at, as all Bollywood films are these days. It spans a huge geographical spread—Mumbai, London, Bangkok, Istanbul and Samos—perhaps to display the generosity of the producers. It also moves back and forth in time to seem intriguing. But these can’t save Game from being one of the most predictable, stupid thrillers, strewn with absurd red herrings and idiotic clues. In fact, it makes one long for the simple but engaging crime dramas of yore—Kanoon, Ittefaq, Dhund, Khel Khel Mein. The situation is classic Agatha Christie—bunch of assorted suspects gathered at a specific place with murders thrown in. So you have a rich owner of a Greek island (Kher) inviting a Mumbai filmstar (Sheirgill), a Bangkok politician (Irani), an Istanbul druglord (Bachchan) and a London crime journo (Goswami) over to settle an old score and then copping it himself. So who amongst the guests is his killer? In steps an investigative agency: International Vigilance Squad (as tacky in its detection work as the long-running CID on TV) which seems to be alarmingly full of Indians despite being ‘global’ and based in London. The detection work is headed by a business suit-clad Ranaut whose astuteness would have forced Miss Marple, Holmes, Poirot, Maigret, Byomkesh, Feluda to take to the streets in collective protest. Need we say more?