Sorry, this movie sucks

just watch it!

It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

Yeah! Yeah! You'll say I don't have the intellect to understand the class that is Gandu. You know what, I don't want such an intellect.The film has lewd written all over it. Not just the sex, the whole bloody point seems to be missing. Yes, he's frustrated, he's callous. That in no way makes any sort of sense. Sex is super-imposed every time you start snoozing off on the non-sex scenes. Or when you're about to take off your ear-phones after they have been brutally desensitized by the songs that gives it the tag for "Trying too hard". . Don't waste your time watching this movie. Unless you're in it for senseless fapping sessions you use porn for. Coz trust me, it's porn! Nothing more, might be less!

Gandu 4.5/5Tarantino? Lulz. Quashiq Mukherjee makes Tarantino look like an idiot in this movie. I have seen this movie twice in the last 24 hours and am still awestruck by the weirdness. You have never seen something like this before. NEVER. This movie shocked me, in a pleasant way :PGandu is a loser who hates his life, who hates his mother and pretty much everything else except his Rickshawpuller friend. Gandu has to tolerate a shady guy who comes and has sex with his mother regularly. He decides to live life on his own terms and enters the world of smack, rap and porn. The soundtrack is bloody amazing. Absolutely awesome. Indian progressive rock at its f**king best. The direction is top notch and the camera work is outstanding. Actors have done a splendid job. We often crib about the quality of Indian Cinema but this movie has definitely changed the face of Indian cinema forever. Trust me, this movie deserves over a 100 re-runs. I am probably gonna screen it in my college pretty soon. I am not always impressed by random stuff but I loved this movie. Devote 90 minutes of your life to this movie and I promise, you won't regret it.

The film took me by total surprise. Never expected something like this from Indian cinema. At least not so soon. Cinema is an art and this is a beauty. I was always a fan of Bengali cinema for it's art and bold approach. It has given us some beautiful cinematic masterpieces. This film adds another diamond to it. Unfortunately our country isn't bold enough. Films like this get banned. Doesn't matters how good it is. They just won't let us watch it in cinema halls. Disappointing, Isn't it? Because, it is amazingly awesome approach. A good compilation of boldness into art. Something shocking for India. It sure leaves an impact on you. Way to go Q.

Q wanted to be noticed with his first independent venture and this film accomplishes it, especially the nothing-but-shock-value sex.Q has an uncanny ear for local dialogue and some of the exchanges are wry, ironic and sometimes hilarious. He's sketch of the flirty cybercafe Bengali girl is possibly one of the truest sketches I have seen. Also the street talk of lowlifes is bang on.But then - what? Where does this all lead to? Gandu builds up great expectations, then does not deliver. I felt as frustrated as the main character - empty and wasted.As is typical of many those who are attracted to film via the superficials - pithy dialogue or "the look" or sensationalism, that only works on the underlying framework of a solidly good story. You cannot erect a memorable film without a solid foundation of plot, character arc or a satisfying ending.I feel sad that this potentially great talent will only swim on the surface and end up being forgotten unless he goes deeper to see what makes good stories work.Bengali cinema desperately needs a new voice, a new testament and my fear is that unless Q respects STORY and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, it will be all downhill for him from here.Why is that the ancient spiritual Indian culture only produces talent incapable of true introspection? Who destroyed our image of ourselves? Why must everything we do be a copy of a copy of a copy?