What does one do with a film which is dead on arrival and then insists on plodding on for the next 120-plus minutes? Well, if one has to write on it like I did, unfortunately, then one stays on with the film, suppressing countless yawns. You, as an audience, have the choice of leaving it midway, or better still, not tuning in at all.

Blind, for starters, is as unsubtle as its title. And for a thriller, quite a bore. Adapted from a 2011 Korean thriller, also called Blind, the Hindi version, helmed by debutant director Shome Makhija, makes a few tweaks here and there, but is drab and dull from the get-go.

Shot wholly in Glasgow, and streaming for free on JioCinema, Blind stars Sonam Kapoor Ahuja — in what is her first film in four years — as its visually-impaired protagonist. A former cop, Sonam’s Gia lost her eyesight in an accident in which her foster brother was killed. Ridden with guilt but living in a pretty fancy apartment despite being jobless, Gia only has her guide dog Elsa — that ends up doing the best ‘acting’ in the film — for company.

A purposeless Gia, who has lost all faith in God (something which the film unsubtly and quite unnecessarily keeps harping on throughout), chances upon a serial kidnapper/killer one night, and that sets her on a path of tracking him down before he strikes next. Very soon, things get personal.

On paper, Blind seems to be a great idea. A visually-challenged protagonist coming face-to-face with a psychopathic antagonist in a constant game of cat-and-mouse could have made for a riveting thriller, with the cloudy atmospherics of Glasgow acting as the perfect backdrop. But the film has very little meat and comprises characters that fail to strike a chord.

A few weeks ago, the web series Dahaad revealed its antagonist right at the beginning and then expertly revealed his modus operandi and motivations, drawing in the viewer right till the end, even without being a whodunit. Blind, too, unveils its villain early but if the psychology and trigger points of Anand (played by Vijay Varma) in Dahaad were gradually revealed, contributing richly to the story, Blind makes no attempt to show why its mentally unhinged killer (played by Purab Kohli) is the way he is.

Which is quite a surprise given that Sujoy Ghosh, who has intricately crafted thrillers like Kahaani and Badla (which was also an adaptation, but much better done than Blind) to his name, functions as the creative producer here. Blind, despite its predilection to pepper its story with emotional hooks here and there, is so weak in its writing that it doesn’t allow the viewer to invest in either its plot or its players.

Like most Bollywood films, Blind operates in a bubble where every player — protagonist, antagonist, investigating cop, key eyewitness — even in a foreign land, is Indian. The police force, led by a forever-hungry superior (played by Vinay Pathak), is grossly incompetent, allowing a serial killer to roam freely within the city without as much as providing protection to its witnesses. With no layers in its plot, Blind labours on with a constant pattern of kidnap-kill-rinse-repeat, ending up 30 minutes too long than what it should have been. The lack of subtlety in its treatment extends to its unnecessarily gory scenes of eyes being gouged out and the camera lingering on dead bodies for a few seconds too many. At one point, a top cop screams at his subordinate: “Get me the number of the blind girl.” So much for sensitivity.

A more assured lead actor would have probably made parts of such a dull film palatable, if not engaging, but Sonam’s acting remains one-note, with hardly any emotion showing up on that wooden face. Sonam utters lines as diverse as “Get me a cup of tea” and “I think he is in trouble” with the same expression. Purab Kohli is a fine performer, but try as he might, the affable actor can’t pull off scary and unhinged. It’s also unfair to Purab that the story gives him very little to play with. The other players — Vinay Pathak, Lilette Dubey, Shubham Saraf — operate as cardboard cutouts. There are also some ill-placed songs in the film, as well as a grating background score, which does it no favours.

Sujoy is known for his penchant for hat-tips, and it’s interesting that Blind names its victims after some famous movie characters — Amy Dunne, the ‘gone girl’ from Gone Girl, and Pulp Fiction’s iconic femme fatale Mia Wallace, played to perfection by Uma Thurman. These are touches that are sure to make a movie buff break into a knowing smile. If only the rest of Blind was as clever. Or at least, mildly engaging.

Which is your favourite Hindi thriller adapted from a foreign film? Tell t2@abp.in