No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Someone’s actually done a gender twist on Fatal Attraction, which means Sunny Leone actually assumes the part once enacted by Michael Douglas. And Tanuj Virwani turns into Glenn Close. How uncool is that!
Anyway there you are, feeling like a duffer for buying a ticket to One Night Stand, directed by Jasmine Moses D’Souza, with a story credited to Bhavani Iyer.
Over to an event management executive (Tanuj sir) who’s at this very moment in Phuket. Believe it or faint, at one point, dialogue writer Niranjan Iyengar even rhymes Phuket with the f**k word. Is that funny or what? It isn’t.
Howlarious, though, is the exec’s bet with his office buddies that he can instantly ‘patao’ a tangy travel blog writer (Sunnyji). Lust at first site, ahem, blog writer quizzes, “What’s in a name?”
Contradictorily in the next breath, she blah blahs, “Achha, so your name is Urvil which means ‘samundar’. My name’s Celina which means ‘aasman’. Now the ocean and the sky can’t meet, can they?”
Silly question. Maybe they can’t meet but they do mammothly mate. Cut to a five-star tub in which they wet their toes and more before they retire for the night to snore. Next morning, the camera zooms into the exec’s nipples (eowww). That displayed, he catches the next airplane to Pune. And goes stark raving bananas-n-Shrewsbury biscuits.
Exec can’t get blogger out of his system. He thinks, drinks, blinks. Stalks he, the blogger even when he’s going through the motions of being a morning jogger. BIG problem is that’s he’s happily married to a woman (Nyra Banerjee) who bakes a billion yum yum cakes. BIGGER problem is that his Phuket tubmate is also married, and is mother to a school kid who tries to be annoyingly cute. Tut tut.
More: Exec is drinking an entire brewery every night. Blogger is burning out of sheer fright. By now, this shoddy affair is ready to plunge you into the depths of despair. To prevent spoiler alert, suffice it to say that dialogue maestro Iyengar pens a faux feminist monologue for Ms Leone. Howzzat?
The more said about the performances of Leoneji and Virwani sir, the worse. Ditto, the mandatory pole dance, post-Emraan Hashmi era smooches.
Serious suggestion: like the event management executive gone bananas, just go jogging instead.