Usually in a movie which has a promo song running along with the opening titles, I block my brain from making any assessment - trying my best not to judge the proverbial book by its kitschy cover. But, the thought just wouldn't leave me. If this is how it starts, how do I go through the next two hours? And it worked! Thanks to the lowest possible expectations set in the first five minutes, it fidgets its way half-a-point up.

It’s regular slapstick with a dash of original one-liners thrown in. But, it feels like the one-liners determined the situation rather than the other way around. And the lack of flow is evident when you just shake your head in helplessness. This goes for both the dialogues and the screenplay, or lack thereof.

This is one of those brainless comedies that can't be seen without a brain. As in there are three people with the same name who reach the same place at the same time. So keeping track of the chaos cannot be done without some gray-cell exercise. And, honestly, I did see this as a situation with tremendous potential for craziness. But, it’s all too commonplace and just doesn't work out.

Neither do the production values - from the amateurish animation to the art design. The costume designer is fascinated by the scissors. We have holes and cuts in dresses where they don't belong. Setting trends? I hope not! These over-used, blunted-down scissors were then passed on to the editor. Low-budget, you see? Can't blame him for the jerks and jolts now, can we?

Now that so much is spent on putting the cut pieces of cloth together we need people to wear them. So we have the threesome - Sameera Reddy, Tanisha, and Esha Deol. Amazingly, and I'm using the word with all sincerity, Neetu Chandra is wearing just one costume, and is covered all over at that! Maybe those scissors were too blunt for cotton clothing by the time it was Neetu's turn. Thank goodness for some mercies!

Now that we have these ladies, what do we make them do? What women do best, of course...scream and screech and yell some more. Why distract the audience by giving them such things as meaningful dialogue? Consistent character would cause an outcry. To be fair though, in the name of gender equality, the men are dealt a similar hand too. Any hopes of Paresh Rawal saving the fort are demolished in the fifth minute of the movie where he is introduced as a bra seller. Need I say more?

The only people who do recognize their limitations are the lyricists. Since, they know they cannot write that well, so they wrote a few half-decent lines and got them repeated over and over till Raghav Sachar's music ran out. The latter does put his goods on display and how. A range of foot-tapping music remixed together. And he takes showcasing a step further by featuring himself in the end credits.

Barely different from the other slapstick churned out this shoddiness named One Two Three is absolutely passable. Waiting for next Friday, already...