I’ve never seen a spectacle so perverse, so utterly ridiculous as an Indian turning into a big-time robber (stealing millions both in India and overseas) merely to help sick orphans.

Get real, P-u-h-l-e-e-ze.

As anyone the least bit familiar with the subcontinent’s ethos and culture will attest, our people are ‘devils‘ utterly bereft of the milk of human kindness.

Inflicting their logorrhoea about fictitious charity programs in every media interview, Indian ‘devils’ get their daily ‘kick‘ from murdering homeless people by running their cars over them, beating girlfriends, killing and barbecuing endangered deer, assaulting photographers and only the great Allah knows what other crimes these Shaitans commit behind closed doors.

A young orphan – sick or healthy – is the last thing on the mind of an Indian devil.

Devil’s New Tricks

It’s no secret that I loath rotten Indian films!

And by God, crappy Indian films are dime a dozen in Mera Bharat Mahaan.

So my first thought when I heard of Kick was – OMG, is it one of the dreadful Sajid ‘remember Divya Bharati‘ Nadiadwala junk or one of his stolen shits like Heyy Babyy?

I mean, what kind of a jackass calls an Indian film Kick. What’s the next Indian movie? Panty, Boxer, Keyboard, Monitor?

My second fear – Has Sallu bhai stopped taking his medication and starred in another southern junk clone?

After all, the Chutiya is no stranger to South Indian drivel having thrust insufferably bizarre kichdi like Wanted, Bodyguard, Ready etc on us.

Right up to the end of Kick, when, eureka, we ‘learn’ the hero is robbing crooked politicians, callous doctors and amoral businessmen not to amass money but to help sick orphan children get medical treatment, the hero acts like he’s got three screws missing in what passes for its head.

With not a single acting gene in his body, our hero is a robotic mass of muscle and bone. Even an attempt at a smile comes off awkward, more like a grimace.

Our tall, lissome heroine acts like an escapee from the local asylum, slapping her sister, pummeling the hero, smacking the comedian, kicking the hero and periodically making a face like Alia Bhatt on a quiz show.

Ah, did I tell you the hero looks older than the heroine’s father?

And the hero’s father looks like his younger brother. Incest anybody?

I swear on bhai the hero’s mother looked like his former girlfriend.

Utter Bosh

As with a lot of Indian movies these days, the tiresome parade starts off on foreign soil.

Our reluctant heroine, now living abroad, is cajoled into meeting the not-hero bridegroom just arrived from India.

Heroine and the not-hero meet for the first time on a train.

Now the not-hero has gone overseas for two reasons – To meet the NRI girl chosen for him by his family and to nab the Kick-hero who has taunted him into coming there. Not-hero is actually an Indian police officer smarting from being constantly on the losing side of Kick-hero’s devilish robberies.

On the train, our heroine, she with the countenance of a Sri Lankan Red Slender Loris and the acting skills of a lifeless Jacqueline Fernandes, narrates her past encounters and love for the hero who has an addiction for “kick” related, adrenaline-surge activities.

After engaging in much vexing nonsense in Indian and foreign climes, and boring seen-it-all-before stunts using doubles, our heroine is finally enlightened with the truth about her Kick addicted hero.

With a heart of gold, all he wants in life is to help orphan children.

Dreadful Item Number

Since it’s a big-budget Indian movie, an item number is de rigueur.

But the item song-dance featuring yet another aging flop-queen and a gaggle of frumpy emetics thrusting their collective udders in our face quickly got tiresome.

When we watch an item dance, we want to be impaled on the sword of our lust not yawn out of ennui.

Speaking of dancing, our hero does such a hopeless, hapless imitation of a dance that the horror of his elephantine moves left me numb.

Infernal Music

After watching Kick, I now know what the Devil loves to relax on.

Be it the songs picturized on snowy terrain or on bare earth, they were dreadful punishments to tender souls and aging ears.

Which duffer ‘decomposed’ the music for this dreadful nightmare.

Kick – Nightmare

I did not derive an iota of Kick from this Stygian nightmare.

Kick is a class-less, crude Indian monstrosity from beginning to end.

An atrocity of Brobdingnagian proportions, Kick is a negation of all art forms.

In any other country, such trash-peddlers would be quickly run out of town!

In Incredible India, they turn such drivel into hits. 🙁

SearchIndia.com strongly recommends you give this garbage Kick a mighty kick on its derriere.