Run Bhoomi Movie Review: Run Far Far Away

Rating: 1 (out of 5)

'Run Bhoomi Champs Don't Cry' is what happens when 'Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar' is dismantled and reassembled by rich folks who think that cinema is an open-for-all free fast-food restaurant.

The producer, Mansoob Haider, is also the lead mannequin in this debacle - a sports coach named Sikandar (of course). He needs to win back custody of his daughter, who presumably didn't like living with robots.

For reasons beyond human reasoning, his fate is connected to the imaginatively titled 'Under-15 Himalayan Cross Country Inter-School Race'.

The prize money for the winning minor is 10 lakhs. I'm not sure senior national track athletes make that much in a year, but never mind. Bhoomi, the only 14-year old girl sprinter, needs 8 lakhs to fund her kid brother's generic blood-clot operation. Not surprisingly, this comatose brother is far more expressive than the adults in this film.

Does coach do the right thing and choose Bhoomi to represent his school? Or does he display the moral compass of Lance Armstrong and choose a politician's son to fund his own dream academy?

The conflict, on paper at least, sounds interesting. If only it weren't made like a playground exercise being recorded on Juhu beach.

How not to make a film

One loses count of how often Sikandar conjures up the line "Girls can't run" from deep within his malfunctioning Operating System. Meanwhile, his 'qualifying ground' looks like the kind of rocky terrain used for daylight murders. His technical advice ranges from "Yes, you can do it!" to "Run fast!"

Motion Censors

The kids seem to have been told to jog, to demonstrate slow-mo sprinting. It's obvious that the filmmakers have forgotten to take many crucial shots during production. Hence, to show a photo-finish replay, we're shown an insert of two feet slowly hitting the line in normal motion.

Poor Bhoomi

Bhoomi is shown entering a dangerous railway tunnel to immortalize the metaphor 'light at the end of the tunnel'. Back at home, her grandmother alternates between a smoky Zee Horror Show avatar and a screechy whatsapp emoticon.

At the interval, the words "it's not over" flash across the screen ominously. The title song has a nursery-rhyme version for introspective moments, and a hard-metal version for the mandatory training montage. "Never give up. Hey, always try. Champs don't cry." The lyrics are designed to inspire.

As is the case with most bad films, this review, in a way, writes itself.

It's a miracle that cultural ministries in Shimla and Kasauli still allow glorified vacationers to deface their towns under the pretext of telling stories.

Perhaps that's why every single BJP leader is thanked in the opening credits.