Who, Max? Wherefore art thou, Romeo? JD, JD, is that JD? Hello, hello.
Do you know who I am? I don’t know who I am. Do you know who you are?
Sultan, Om, Kaizad. Max, oh Max.
I’ve found a hat.
I’ve found a gas mask.
I will kill you. I could have killed you. We will be killed. He will kill us. Should I kill you?
Gas. Pentane. Temporary amnesia.
Chinese, Japani, Korean? **&%$#*@#$%. Oh, Indian.
Car 1. Car 2. Car 3. Car 4. Boom, boom, boom. Car 5. Car 6. Car 7.
Fire, water, guns. Boom.
Acid factory. Grills. Doors. Locks.
Who are you? Who am I? I will kill you. You will kill me?
Man in Black 1. Man in Black 2. Man in Black 3. Man in Black 4. Boom, boom, boom.
Find Max. How will I know her? She’s wearing black.
Mud tracks. Bikes. Helmet out. Long hair flying. Leer. Leer. No kiss.
Gun 1. Gun 2. Gun 3. Boom, boom.
Bad friend. Good friend. Good cop. Bad guy. Bad girl. Leer, kiss.
Boat. Bike. Car. Bigger car. Bigger, bigger car. Boom.
Max. Romeo. Om. Sultan. Kaizad. JD. Sarthak. Mrs. Sarthak.
What’s in a name?
JD. Kaizad. Sarthak. Sultan. Romeo. Om.
The Pentane gas escaped from the screen into the theatre. All of 7 viewers and 13 food vendors reeled with temporary amnesia.
What are we doing here? Why are we here? Have we died and come to hell?
Am I going to be trapped in eternity with 13 popcorn, samosa and soft drink sellers who will come to me every 3 seconds asking me to stuff my mouth with junk food? What horrible sins have I committed in my past life to be subjected to this?
I am alone. The other 6 viewers are in couples. I feel so sad. So bad. So black. So blue.
OK, OK. Let me come to my senses. Make some sense of this. To make sense is to combat hell.
What have we here? South Africa. 25 cars we can blow up. A yellow Lamborghini. An acid factory. Lots of semi-naked women writhing in ecstasy. Good girl 1 trying hard to be bad in black leather, high heels and fierce scowl. 3 blocks of wood in black. 3 actors in black. 1 actor forgotten in black. Good girl 2 struggling to be good in black. Gas. Guns. Bikes. Boats. Cars. Boom. Boom. Boom. Leer, kiss.
Where is the script, mother-father? Where is the script?
Who am I? Do you know who I am? Why am I here? We could be killed.
A more coherent review of ‘Acid Factory’ will soon appear in Tehelka.
Edited to add: And here it is, the Tehelka review.