Home / Movie Review: Yeh Raat Honeymoon Ki

Movie Review: Yeh Raat Honeymoon Ki

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There are times when one is so bone tired by the end of the day that all one wants to do is watch a no brainer movie or a flick so rotten that it relaxes the mind with its B grade script, unknown actors and lousy production quality.

Yeh Raat Honeymoon Ki (Honeymoon’s Night) was one such crappy Hindi horror movie that I enjoyed from beginning till the very end. The theme was sex based; on the way to going to a place called Khandala, newlywed couples would come across an unexpected turn, and their car would breakdown. A little distance away there was a mansion, maintained by a taciturn caretaker. He would show them to their rooms, and they would try to have sex, the woman would get possessed and death would be the final outcome of the simulated and exceptionally tacky coupling.

The caretaker would warn the couples not to spend the night at the mansion but when they would insist he would let them stay; the pattern repeats until one ugly, horny SOB keeps his pants zipped long enough to crack the case and save his woman from becoming possessed and kill him.

The ghost obviously was the caretaker’s daughter who was nearly raped by the rich owner of the house and his friend. In the middle of the rape scene, things got out of hand when the daughter’s boyfriend tried to save her culminating in the death of the girl, her lover and later the criminals by the angry ghost of the girl.

When asked why she continued to kill couples she explains that since she didnt get some, she didnt want anyone else to have some either. She sounded more like a mother in law wilfully out to jeopardize a young couple’s marital relations than a irate ghost.

The happy ending comes easily when the possessed heroine is hypnotised and the ghost is made to leave the body.

Here are the reasons why I enjoyed this terrible movie-

The men were all horny buggers who had only one thing on their mind – to get into the women’s panties – pasteboard characters that didn’t require much fathoming.

When couples had sex, no one took their clothes off ; during the rape scene the woman was merely pulled around a little roughly but no clothes were torn which was unusual as clothes tearing and other nefarious activity is a hallmark of Indian rape scenes in films.

The caretaker was a spooky fellow who couldn’t act even if his balls were on the line. Yet his rotten acting was what kept the movie going.

The scenes where the ghost makes her entry were hilarious; the camera would start moving in jerky angles as the women would be taking a shower or begin to undress or there would be thunder and lightning to set the mood for a horror scene and then bam! the woman would be possessed, her eyes would bulge out and she would grab her lusty lover and kill him.

Lastly, the comic relief, which is the basis of most Hindi movies, was so atrocious, the jokes so inane and crappy that I wanted to wringe the comedian’s scrawny neck.

This film is actually part of a large and strangely popular genre of horror films in India. Leading proponents of the genre include the Ramsay family of film-makers. My husband is an aficionado of this genre, among his other quirky interests, and this film, too, landed in our queue thanks to him. Perhaps he could expand on the worth or lack of the same of this film.

A bag of popcorn, Doritos with hot salsa along with some shish kababs are the necessary companions to this salacious movie which is surprisingly available on Netflix, and just right perhaps for a B-grade Halloween

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About Deepti Lamba