A
cocky
Hitchcock,
a
desi
Brian
da
Palma
without
the
steamy
sex.
Or
is
this
the
Londoners'
version
of
Karan
Johar's
Kabhi
Alvida
Na
Kehna….Yup,
this
is
a
darkish
devious
stylish
delicious
thriller
with
balls….er,
brawls.
The
three
main
characters,
married
or
involved
with
one
another
are
at
one
another's
neck,
while
poor
Sonali
Kulkarni
(excellent
in
the
one
scene
where
she
breaks
down
for
her
dead
son)
remains
largely
out
of
it.
Sometimes
it
pays
to
not
get
involved.
Jimmy
Sheirgill
(who
for
some
unknown
reason
likes
to
flaunt
his
singing
talent
in
this
brawl-room
dancing)
is
so
much
like
Shahrukh
Khan's
KANK
you
wonder
if
the
character
has
modeled
his
life
on
the
Khan.
Except
that
Jimmy's
impairment
is
more
emotional
than
physical.
A
work-less
worthless
writer
(watch
out
for
the
still-lovely
Kitu
Gidwani
as
his
supportive
but
disgruntled
publisher)
he
lolls
around
on
the
sofa
all
day
long
taunting
his
wife
about
her
sleeping
habits.
And
we
aren't
even
mentioning
any
snore
points.
The
quadrangle
(with
Kulkarni's
minimal
contribution)
has
interesting
Hitcockian
possibilities,
only
half-realized.
The
narration
moves
at
a
measured
momentum.
You
feel
the
director
is
holding
back
the
characters
from
a
fuller
emotional
expression.
Maybe
they're
shy.
Maybe
they
just
don't
care.
Debutant
director
Aanand
Rai
has
a
game
plan
and
a
destination.
But
he's
in
no
hurry
to
get
there.
The
initial
conversations
between
Sheirgill
and
Menon
on
the
speeding
train
hold
plenty
of
prattling
promise.
The
exchanges,
you
soon
realize
aren't
so
much
about
the
two
men
as
about
the
wives
in
their
lives.
This
is
where
the
situation
gets
tangled
beyond
the
plot.
Just
why
the
two
men
would
want
their
respective
spouses
bumped
off
never
comes
into
the
kingdom
of
the
convincing.
We
are
left
looking
at
a
world
manoeuvred
by
the
self-serving
desires
of
four
innately
unhappy
people
in
two
marriages
that
aren't
half
as
wretched
as
the
ones
Karan
Johar
designed
in
KANK.
The
film's
crux
is
a
murder
plan
that
never
quite
takes
off.
As
layer
after
layer
of
deception
is
peeled
off
in
steady
motions
of
a
narration
that
knows
its
boundaries
and
never
dreams
of
crossing
it,
we're
left
looking
at
the
characters
as
they
are
rather
than
the
way
they
want
us
to
see
them.
The
film
is
stylishly
put
together.
Cinematographer
Manoj
Shaw
captures
the
quartet
of
cut-up
characters
in
a
languorous
sea
of
Londoners
who
don't
seem
to
care
enough
to
even
stare.
The
incidental
characters
are
as
half-finished
as
the
main
protagonists,
hovering
between
desire
and
fulfillment,
never
quite
sure
which
way
to
go.
The
performers
attempt
a
casual
look-ma-no-acting
kind
of
candour
which
works
when
the
dialogues
support
these
irrelevantly
unhappy
people.
The
sequence
in
the
bar
where
Nandana
Sen
flirts
cautiously
with
her
soon-to-be
extra-marital
lover
Kay
Kay
Menon
(as
clenched
as
ever)
shows
the
directors
command
over
the
craft
of
infidelity.
But
somewhere
down
the
line
the
betrayals
of
the
plot
far
exceed
the
game
of
deception
played
by
the
characters.
The
music
score
is
uneven.
And
the
club
song
with
a
pole
dancer
is
laughably
odds
with
the
smoky
sophistication
that
the
presentations
aim
for.
Somewhere
in
the
second-half
the
Nightingale
Lata
Mangeshkar's
voice
pops
up
for
a
ballad.
She
belongs
to
a
different
world!
Strangers
is
a
strangely
stirring
thriller
with
echoes
from
Hitchcock's
Dial
M
For
Murder
and
Johar's
KANK
setting
off
an
uneasy
chain
of
events
that
lead
to
a
disastrous
denouement.
One
isn't
sure
if
the
director
should
share
the
blame
for
his
characters" messy
emotional
life
Story first published: Wednesday, December 26, 2007, 15:53 [IST]