Scatological lunacy flies off the charts in Mrigdeep Singh Lamba’s ever-deteriorating slacker franchise
Like the general elections, a new Fukrey film comes around every five years or so. And, like politicians, they tend to take the public for a ride. The enjoyable first film had a simple hook: Choocha (Varun Sharma) dreams, his best friend Hunny (Pulkit Samrat) interprets those dreams, they get rich with a little help from Lali (Manjot Singh) and Pandit-ji (Pankaj Tripathi). The second film augmented this idea with a concept called the ‘deja choo’. Now, in the third instalment, preternatural psychical abilities have been matched with physical ones. Scatological lunacy abounds. This is a film about sweat, spit, piss and poop.
We begin, as always, in East Delhi. Bholi Punjaban (Richa Chadha) is contesting elections, and floating her campaign on the pressing civic issue of water. She is secretly backed in this endeavour by the city’s nefarious tanker mafia, who could use a plaint minister in office. The fukras, initially drafted in to help with her campaign, end up messing with it, prompting Bholi to devise an elaborate plan and pack them off to South Africa. There, after a chain of events including an escape from a diamond mine and an electrocution in an amusement park, Choocha and Hunny make a new discovery in their ever-deepening bromance: their piss and sweat makes petrol.
