This article has been submitted by Shuchita Goel for the CLATGyan Blog Post Writing Competition. If you think this article is a good read, ‘Like’ this article on Facebook (the button is at the bottom of this piece) or post a comment using the ‘comments’ section below.
THE CLAT IS OVER. OVER, I SAY. I finally got to chill, watching a movie I would, under ordinary circumstances, never publicly admit to watching. But screw that, I deserve me some erotic horror from time to time. I am, of course, referring to Ragini MMS 2, a delightfully comic genre of a mix of what Indians think is horror and eroticism of the sort that you wouldn’t want your mother to watch with you (especially if it’s awkward watching Game of Thrones with her). This post will be less about the unimaginative storytelling (the movie starts with a mental asylum displayed in all its decrepit glory. Sigh) and more about the variegated range of emotions I underwent, as a movie riddled with plot holes unravelled before delighted eyes (as did Sunny Leone’s clothes).
As I might have mentioned earlier, the story begins with a mental asylum within which resides Ragini, a girl deceived by her boyfriend, who made an MMS of her cavorting around naked with sexually explicit content in a questionable location, a haunted house. Boy dies, girl goes mad, villagers surrounding the place furtively whisper about a chudail, or a witch who haunts the place.
Emotions at this point: Jesus, not this again. Where is Sunny Leone?!
Although I didn’t know it, a pleasant surprise in the form of Tanmay Bhat, of All India Bakchod fame, was in store. He goes to the haunted house, touches himself, and gets his eyes plucked out by the unknown spirit. Most delicious. After this happens and I resign myself to the notion that this movie has just begun and there are at least two hours of this ahead of me, the fun begins. Sunny Leone, representing herself, is to play Ragini in a movie based on her life and a song sequence commences. Babydoll, the song, is something that most of Indian society would condemn for its depravity and lewd portrayal of the feminine body had it not been accompanied with a catchy tune and adequate dhol-baazi. As it stands, it is frequently played at weddings, social gatherings and your neighbour’s daughter’s third birthday party. Sunny Leone enters, gyrating to the beats, wearing nothing but her palms across her breasts in one shot, and twisting around a cage in another. I’m guessing neither your parents nor feminists would be happy with this sequence of events.
Emotions at this point: Ah, I finally get to see what the big hullabaloo over her is about. May I be allowed to compliment her on her… eyes. Yes. Ahem.
The story moves on. Sunny (as she is referred to in this movie) goes to visit Ragini to do some research. Invaluable comments from a salacious director at this point: “Yeh porno se Rituporno kab se ban gayi?” In Ragini’s cell (seriously, there is no other way to describe the filthy condition of that place), she encounters the spirit which leaves Ragini’s body and enters Sunny’s (Heh, who wouldn’t). Sunny, the aforementioned director and the Love Interest (the forthcoming movie’s screenwriter), go to the haunted mansion so that they can shoot the movie, disregarding repeated warnings by villagers and suchlike (wow, the foresight is killing me). Nothing much happens for the next one hour. During the days, there’s shower sex between the understudy and ghosty Ragini-Sunny (the screen blurred out), a rain dance between Sunny and the Love Interest and some preposterous dialogues, completely incongruous with the story-line, but which the writers presumably assumed (and rightly too) would make audiences giggle at and condemn in equal measure. During the nights the ghost came out and terrorised various cast members and a lesbian mouth to mouth.
Emotions at this point: Will this thing never end? I hope somebody screams. Why is nobody screaming? Oh, who am I even kidding? And what in hell’s bells is that man doing behind our seats? Don’t turn around, don’t turn ar… Christ. Why did I have to turn around?! SCARRED FOR LIFE.
Finally the night of the Great Showdown arrives. It’s the full moon and according to every Hindi horror movie, that is when the ghosts come out and play. Sunny, inebriated with the power of the spirit, plans to kill everybody in the house. The Love Interest gets a whiff of her plans and is determined to stop her. A psychiatrist, who has been working on the Ragini case on the sidelines, finally cracks the case and is determined to save the people in the house.May I just intrude and mention at this point, she is the most badass character in the movie, and gifted with the extraordinary powers of common sense, something that all characters in this ridiculous movie lack. Whenever there’s a scene with a door opening on its own, or scary noises, all the characters rush towards it and die. She has the sense to not do that. Moving on, Sunny kills the understudy and the director whose last words just happen to be, “Marathi mai dirty talk? Come on Sunny, English mai bolo” to a spirit-infested Sunny, determined to kill him. Needless to say, she eats out his eyes.
Emotions at this point: Thank god that pest is dead. Ah, she’s running. And only wearing marvellously revealing lingerie…
Moving on, Sunny tries to kill her boyfriend (yes, he became her boyfriend in the two days that they’d known each other) and the psychiatrist and another minor actress. They try to exorcise her by waving the Scriptures in her face. It’s unsuccessful. She kills the minor actress. The spirit finally leaves her body when they break the spirit’s son’s toy rattle. The psychiatrist then explains the whole story. The spirit was a mother whose only son fell down a well. She sacrificed two of her daughters in the hopes that her son would magically become alive. The village dubbed her a witch, stoned her and set her on fire. She vows to come back and take revenge because her last rites hadn’t been performed. She does. Kills everyone who comes to the house. Drives Ragini crazy. Finally kills her too.
Emotions at this point: Wait a minute… THAT’S THE PLOTLINE THAT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR, FOR THE PAST TWO AND A HALF HOURS? THE SLOWEST HOURS OF MY LIFE, AS THE CLOCK INEXORABLY TICKED AND I WATCHED IN THE HOPES THAT IT WOULD HAVE A SENSIBLE ENDING WHERE SUNNY WOULD KILL EVERYONE AND TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH THE SHEER, MAGNETIC POWER OF HER BREASTS, BUT NO. Atleast this shit is over.
But it wasn’t. There was a Yo Yo Honey Singh song at the end. Chaar Botal Vodka, Kaam Mera Roz Ka. This was the point where I started writing my obituary, and his. So for anybody who ventures to read this, some words of advice. Watch this movie if you want a good laugh. Don’t listen to any music produced by Honey Singh and his ilk. Forget about a career in law, the erotic-horror movie industry needs you.
Shuchita Goel is a law school aspirant from New Delhi. Three things encapsulate Shuchita: 1) An abiding love for Game of Thrones (she looks down upon you unless you have both, read the books AND seen the show); 2) inexorable sesquipedalianism; and 3) an affinity for sarcasm. She eagerly awaits the unimaginable fame she shall receive on the inevitable discovery of her blog, The Whimsical Circumlocutor by the world.