He is the love charger, ghost-rider, superpower, vigilante, bomber, painter, healer, father… and much more rolled into one. His swagger is unmistakably Bollywood, enough to brand him the 'baap' of all heroes. His fashion sense is so tacky that any designer worth his name could go delirious. In other words, Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh (GRRS) is megalomania personified. Ladies and gentlemen, we now have our version of the last action hero, and believe us, we were better off without one all these years. It’s not a film but blind self promotion. Watch it only if your survival depended on it. It’s another Gunda (Kanti Shah’s film) in making. I am going by 0.5 because it talks about social evils and somebody has tried to make a film.

Unbridled messianic zeal is the driving force behind MSG – The Messenger. The 200-minute film is a one-man show. That one man is a bundle of energy for whom nothing is impossible. This terribly turgid film is a platform for Dera Sacha Sauda chief Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh to demonstrate his versatility to his flock. He has written the film, co-directed it with Jeetu Arora and co-produced it. The spiritual guru is also the composer, lyricist and singer of all the musical numbers MSG is laced with. The film, mired in controversy, has taken a while to get to the theatres. But it should be out of here in a jiffy because it is unlikely that regular movie fans will be able to digest this all-out assault on the senses. Everything, yes every little thing, in this monstrosity masquerading as a movie is gratingly loud and crassly colossal. Every single frame reeks of misplaced enthusiasm, and of an imagination run riot. Who are we anyways to dole out stars to the messenger of god? So, let us leave it to his acolytes to make whatever they want to make of this unending advertisement for the daredevilry of the hirsute, hell-raising angel who heads the Dera Sacha Sauda. Thank your stars if you manage to survive this ordeal with all your faculties in one piece. But why would you take the risk in the first place?

Well, say what you like about Saint Ji, but you sure can’t miss seeing him.This feature-length advertisement, on the other hand, you’d be best advised to forego. A whopping 197 minutes long, this is a poorly assembled, terrifically tacky and tremendously ill-conceived showcase for a self-styled spiritual leader -- self-styled because no costume designer in the world could match up to this man. Unless, that is, you’re an Insan already, which means this review doesn’t mean a thing. Go embrace the Insan-ity. The whole film looks like those Pakistani VFX videos we laugh at on YouTube and -- while there is definitely, definitely something to be said for a film where a talking Barbie doll tells the hero how a little girl in a bride costume is in danger, and where a villain uses a Quidditch ball to drug people -- at 197 minutes it is sheer torture.

But make no mistake, ‘MSG’ is no movie. It is a lavish home video shot in a very homely style (‘coz silly sophistication would ruin it, no?), fashioned cunningly like your old-style Bollywood potboiler, for the delectation of his vast number of fan-followers. It can also be called In Which Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh Insaan Saves The World In 197 Minutes. The ‘film’ is long and excruciatingly awful only for non-believers.  For his adoring followers, each scene is a super-hit. If Bollywood can, why can’t MSG?  If Amitabh could do it back in the early 80s (remember Yaarana), why can’t he have suits with every single primary coloured sequin stitched in? Like Salman, he has his bank of pithy sayings. Like Ajay, he strides slo-mo.  And unlike those that Aamir Khan’s ‘PK’ castigated, he has a direct connection to the Almighty: what else is a Love Charger (pronounced Charzer, I’ll have you know) for?  Now waiting, with bated breath, for the MSG Fashion Line.

MSG is an indescribable mind-numbing experience. It's so unapologetic in nature that it renders you speechless. As you watch the saint revel in his fantasy-filled heroics for over three hours, strutting in atrocious clothing and modified cars, you are appalled by his narcissism. Yet, for some strange reason, you choose to tolerate his self-indulgence, hoping to decode his psyche. In case you missed the first two hours of the film, pitaji ensures you don't miss out on it by repeating the gyaan in the climax. Isn't he just like the song dedicated to him? 'Papa the geerate (read great)'. Nonetheless, the film is a treat for this guru's fans since he appears practically in every scene. PS: The one star is strictly for babaji's intriguing choice of outfits. A multi-coloured crochet two-piece (tight tees and knee-length pants) takes the cake.