Thirty minutes into the movie, I was reminded why I have pretty much stopped watching Indian content by Netflix. Sloppy editing, kindergarten dialogues and convenient script-writing – so convenient that anybody could write it. I am talking about the latest Netflix original Mrs. Serial Killer released on May 1st 2020.
Mrs. Serial Killer is supposedly an Indian crime-thriller in which Sona Mukherjee (Jacqueline Fernandez) takes the onus on herself to prove that her husband, Dr. Mrityunjoy “Joy” Mukherjee (Manoj Bajpayee), who is blamed for a number of killings that have occurred in the town, is innocent. Things get difficult when no lawyer agrees to defend their case except for one – Brij Rastogi (Darshan Jariwala). Rastogi suggests that the only way to prove Joy’s innocence is if there is another death in the city in the same pattern as the previous ones. This would indicate that Joy isn’t the real killer and he could be released on bail. Without giving much away, what you see in the next hour is a clueless screenplay with absolutely zero rationale.
Objectively speaking, Jacqueline Fernandez has given it her all to do justice to her character. It is the insensibility of the character that makes it difficult to appreciate her hard work in this film. Same can be said about Bajpayee. The absurdness of Joy’s character makes it hard for anyone to connect with this acting legend. You also see the debut of Amir Khan’s niece Zayn Marie who plays the role of Mukherjee’s neighbor Anushka Tiwari.
Mrs. Serial Killer has unclean cuts, patchy graphics and cringe-worthy dialogues such as
Anushka: “I owe you, ma’am”
Sona: “What?”
Anushka: “My life”
Sona: “Ok. I will take it someday”
Joy Mukerjee: “Joy, Joy, Joy! I am not a F$%^ing ice-cream”
Watching this movie made me think about entitlement. Is there a feeling of entitlement among the few Bollywood filmmakers that enables them to make such content and completely disregard the sensibilities of their audience? Isn’t filmmaking a sacred art-form and shouldn’t it come with some responsibilities? What about the cost behind making such a film? Could we not have used this money to showcase honest storytelling along with earnest craftsmanship? How and why does Netflix keep enabling filmmakers to turn out substandard content?
I guess I’ll never know answers to these questions. But what I do know is that if you have two hours to kill, I would recommend taking a nap instead.
Reviewed by Puneet Ruparel
