Directed by Vishal Pandya, Hate Story 3 is one of those films, which leaves you wondering what it was. The film is a stale cocktail of lust, betrayal, revenge and vengeance but with the flawed execution. Barring Sharman Joshi, no one seems to be even trying to act. Hate Story 3 has a good plot but by the time the film picks up pace, it is too late.

This film is touted as an erotic thriller... If your idea of erotica is seeing Zareen Khan in various stages of undressing or Karan Singh Grover's biceps that show more emotions than his face or a Daisy Shah getting in and out of the pool in tacky sets of swimwear, then this one's for you. However, must tell you that the 'erotica' part is limited to the intermittent songs that come and go as if once in a while the director (Vishal Pandya) realises that he has to heat up things to justify the genre the film is supposed to belong to.

Vishal Pandya's Hate Story 3, starring Sharman Joshi, Zarine Khan, Karan Singh Grover and Daisy Shah, fails miserably to thrill. And they're calling it an 'erotic thriller'! 'Game shuru ho chukka hai' mumbles a middle-aged confidante on the phone 15 minutes into the film, trying to raise our adrenalin levels. The person at the other end of the line is kept a mystery, to add to the thrill.

Aditya and Siya are a happy couple. They are shown making passionate love in repetitive montages, kissing, feeling, titillating; while a reprised version of the '90s track Tumhe Apna Banane Ki Kasam plays soulfully. This compatible couple readily agrees on everything in the bedroom or the boardroom. But their bliss is interrupted when a gift-wrapped orange Audi arrives in their lives. Instead of zooming into the sunset, they go seeking the mystery man (Saurav) who gifted it to them

Vishal Pandya's Hate Story 3 is one of those films that make you wonder exactly what you want to do after watching it. Laugh, cry, tear your hair out. Because after subjecting yourself to this pain in its pure, distilled form, you'd not be left with much energy to do anything.

Do you like films based on corporate rivalries? Are profound relationship dramas number one on your priority list? Can you not live without an edgy thriller? Well, then Hate Story 3 is NOT meant for you. Aditya Diwan (Sharman Joshi) is a Mumbai-based millionaire who has fingers in many pies. He controls a cola company and owns hotels across the globe and decides to open a super-specialty clinic in tribute to his deceased brother.

In a world that's obsessed with love stories', in the year 2012, Vivek Agnihotri dared to break the stereotype mould when he made the skin-show infused with revenge drama in a film titled HATE STORY. Then, in the year 2014, Vishal Pandya carried the 'legacy' with HATE STORY 2. Circa 2015, we have Vishal Pandya again at the helm of things with HATE STORY 3

Aditya Diwan ( Sharman Joshi) is a successful businessman now married to Sia (Zareen Khan) who was once his late elder brother Vikram's fianc. Everything is merry in Aditya's la la land until Sourav Singhania makes an unchartered entry. Sourav asks Aditya to allow him to spend a night with Sia and in exchange ask for whatever he wants. Naturally, angered by such a proposal, Aditya refuses to co-operate.

So here we are, with the third edition of 'Hate Story'. The first and second had varying encounters of done-against-victims and aggressors locked into a rage-revenge saga, the former catapulting Bengali siren Paoli Dam into Bollywood, the latter giving Sushant Singh a chance to show his skills at terrorising young women.

Watching this faux pas disguised as a film, one was reminded of Amrish Puri in Rakesh Roshan's Koyla, who kept threatening his screen wife Madhuri Dixit with rough sex, but would start snoring the minute he hit the bed. The four characters in this foreplay of a film are caught in exactly the same compromising position. Except that they don't snore. But we do.

There is absolutely nothing to fall in love with in Hate Story 3. It is the tale of two very, very crabby men who hate each other with all their guts and hatch silly conspiracies. The whys and wherefores of their actions and utterances are shrouded in mystery until the very end of the film, by which time it ceases to matter who wins and who loses. The girls, apart from all the hip-wiggling, bosom-heaving and midriff-flashing that constitute standard fare in such cinematic piffle, play second fiddle.