Movies

bait-review-riz-ahmeds-comedy-drama-series-on-prime-video-is-a-winner-all-the-way

Mon Mar 30 18:06:14 IST 2026

What's worse than being a Muslim living in the UK? A Pakistani-origin Muslim living in the UK. And what's worse than being a Pakistani-origin Muslim living in the UK? Being a Pakistani-origin Muslim actor living in the UK. And what's worse than being a Pakistani-origin Muslim actor living in the UK? Being a Pakistani-origin Muslim actor auditioning for the part of — wait for it — James Bond aka 007 aka... the greatest, most iconic fictional spy of all time?

The new Prime Video series "Bait", created by and starring Riz Ahmed, and co-directed by Bassam Tariq and Tom George, takes this idea and runs with it to excellent results. It has to its advantage a short and crisp runtime — each episode runs less than 30 mins — and spans six episodes, in which it manages to cover a lot of ground that probably would've, in the hands of a lesser filmmaker, taken longer. A concept like this at a time when we are awaiting the announcement of the next James Bond — after Daniel Craig's exit — is quite a stroke of genius.

The most impressive quality of the writing in "Bait" — courtesy of Riz Ahmed, Prashanth Venkataramanujam, Azam Mahmood, Dipika Guha, Karen Joseph Adcock, and Ben Karlin — is that the jokes land most of the time, unlike some recent attempts at mining humour out of awkward cross-cultural scenarios.

Islamophobia in the UK has always been — and continues to be — a serious concern, and it helps that the lead actor and one his directors both happen to be British Pakistani talents whose work is infused with a real sense of the danger and paranoia that naturally accompany their identities.

The "Bait" team, while not coming up with some inventive comic lines that poke fun at racists and their constantly abhorrent association of any Muslim with a terrorist, is aware that for a subject of this nature, one has to, at some point, take it into dramatic territory. There's an entire situation involving a forced apology due to a misunderstanding that illustrates the current reality where "offended" influencers seek social media engagement by targeting celebrities.

Ahmed, who has been good at playing psychologically tormented characters without making it seem forced, aces the part of Shah Latif, who begins to find his sanity tested when he becomes a target of gossip rags and draws unwelcome attention and unwarranted scrutiny — not to mention a complicated situation involving his ex-girlfriend and columnist, Yasmin (the exceptionally talented and gorgeous Ritu Arya who was fantastic in "Polite Society" and "Umbrella Academy" as well).

Guz Khan as Shah's cousin and entrepreneur Zulfi gets the lion's share of the comic bits. His perfect mix of cockiness, charm, and level-headedness is a perfect foil for Ahmed's angst-ridden character.

But one would be remiss if they left out every cast member — most notably, Sheeba Chaddha as Shah's foul-mouthed, insecure mother; Sajid Hasan as his unapologetically direct father Parvez; Aasiya Shah as his devil-may-care sister amusingly named 'Q' — because they all play their part with such conviction that you would think they forgot that the camera was constantly following them and breathing down their necks.

Oh, and let’s not forget Patrick Stewart, who gets into someone’s head in a way that’s completely different from what he attempted in his stint as Charles Xavier!

Series: Bait

Creator: Riz Ahmed

Director: Bassam Tariq, Tom George

Cast: Riz Ahmed, Guz Khan, Aasiya Shah, Sheeba Chaddha, Sajid Hasan, Ritu Arya, Weruche Opia

Rating: 5/5

prathichaya-review-b-unnikrishnans-best-film-with-efficient-turns-from-nivin-pauly-and-balachandra-menon

Thu Mar 26 15:50:45 IST 2026

Restraint is the most notable quality of B. Unnikrishnan's latest feature — and his filmmaking, too. He breaks so many of his own rules here when it comes to thriller filmmaking. This is a film where brains matter more than brawn. "Prathichaya", starring Nivin Pauly, is the classiest work from a filmmaker who, in his past work, has been either known for being prone to self-indulgence or tonal inconsistency, or a misguided attempt at aiming for different things and not landing on either. But this one caught me by surprise. It's not without its flaws, but those are far less negligible when compared to his earlier work. I'll get to them in a while.

First things first. If you're looking for a wholly original concept, "Prathichaya" may not offer you anything. But since when has using pre-existing templates stopped many a filmmaker from doing some of their best work by putting a fresh spin on them?

"Prathichaya" has that old-school charm found in some of the iconic 80s and 90s Malayalam political thrillers. It has emotional and thematic commonalities running the gamut from "The Godfather" to "Bhoomiyile Rajakkanmaar" to "Narasimham" to "Jacobinte Swargarajyam" to "Lucifer". Some may have scoffed at the idea of casting Nivin Pauly in a political thriller that, conventionally, always required someone of Mohanlal's or Suresh Gopi's stature.

But after an hour into "Prathichaya", I knew exactly why Nivin was the right casting — and it's not because he played a son trying to clear his father's debt in a feel-good drama like "Jacobinte Swargarajyam". There are character traits and situations that Nivin shares with his character, John Varghese.

One, that light-hearted, trademark Nivin Pauly touch comes in handy in a few places — except for one awkward alteraction scene, which was understandably included to provide a crucial character detail about his political ideology. Two, it needed a tech-savvy actor — Nivin comes from an IT background — who also once took the initiative to rubbish claims of a MeToo allegation, an allegation that was eventually proven false. Three, the actor's involvement in various humanitarian causes is another common factor. All these character details eventually become integral to the plot, especially some of the twists we encounter later.

But then, "Prathichaya" isn't just about John Varghese. It starts and ends with John's father, the Kerala Chief Minister, played by Balachandra Menon. This character is easily the best thing the veteran actor and filmmaker has done in ages. I couldn't help but see him as the older version of the vibrant and flawed school teacher from "Sasnesham". You see, that's the other admirable quality of B. Unnikrishnan's writing in "Prathichaya" — even the "good guys" aren't painted as purely white, idealistic, or flawless characters. Even they admit, on more than one occasion, to their flaws and why sometimes they have to stand by certain decisions that are disagreeable to even their loved ones.

Menon's CM is one such character. John, too, has his weaknesses. But all these so-called flaws are basically what make not just him, but the rest of us... human. There's a dialogue about how it's all about someone's "brand" or "image" being more important than the person themselves. Anyone who has spent a lot of time working as a journalist or studied how marketing and social media algorithms function will nod their heads in agreement at many of the lines spoken in the film. This is a decently researched film, I must add.

And research is essential for a film that draws judiciously from true events. Anyone who has been living in Kerala for a long time and in touch with many of the sensational headlines would instantly recognise which real-life event was the basis for "Prathichaya". And when you remember the filmmaker’s own political background, you'll notice how impartial Unnikrishnan is here when it comes to portraying certain political figures.

Aside from Balachandra Menon, I liked several other casting choices. To start with, it’s good that Unnikrishnan didn’t go with an extremely popular actress to play Nivin’s wife. Or casting another woman against type (Megha Thomas as the cop is one example). The choice of casting Nivin as the Communist son of a Congress leader was a welcome touch. The same goes for Sai Kumar as John's Communist father-in-law, who also happens to be a staunch critic (constructive) of his father — something which John doesn't have an issue with.

I'm not sure, however, if Sharafudheen was the right guy to play the chief antagonist. But when you really start remembering how most corporate guys have bland and shallow personalities, Sharafudheen's casting seems apt. If there's one guy who gets more slo-mo sequences than Nivin, it's Sharafudheen's Ravi Madhavan, who has fingers in many pies (sectors). Again, if you keep in mind that there are corporate honchos who insist on cringe-inducing slo-mo walks in their personal Instagram and YouTube videos promoting themselves or their brand, you would see why Sharafudheen would get all those "stylish" shots. Have you attended one of those corporate meetings and seen how a CEO talks? Except for the fact that they speak good English, they lack the charm. They basically sound like machines. Cold, detached. (Or maybe I’ve only seen those kinds mostly.) If that's what Unnikrishnan was going for, it makes perfect sense. Another convincing performance comes from Vishnu Agasthya as the chief editor of a news channel who would do anything to please his employers, which means doing anything to boost the TRPs of his channel.

Film: Prathichaya

Director: B Unnikrishnan

Cast: Nivin Pauly, Balachandra Menon, Maniyanpilla Raju, Sharafudheen, Vishnu Agasthya, Sai Kumar

Rating: 4/5

dhurandhar-the-revenge-review-a-strong-worthy-follow-up-despite-odd-structural-issues

Fri Mar 20 10:31:14 IST 2026

---This is a spoiler-free review ---

The most memorable images in "Dhurandhar: The Revenge" don't involve guns, explosions or bloodshed. It's the quieter ones. A man burning the photograph of his family during his younger, happier days. The shocking recognition of a face from the past. The surprising revelation of one significant character's true allegiance. Revealing more would only ruin the fun for those who are yet to see it.

The sequel — maybe calling it that isn't fair, since both parts were conceived as a single film first — offers more in terms of character development than the first. It has the stronger Ranveer Singh performance — and, of course, easily one of his best performances — because we begin to understand that there was a devastating tragedy in the past and it was the ensuing grief that was channeled into a service of his country — the same country that he once felt ignored to come to the aid of his family when it was experiencing a severe crisis.

But this is, after all, the follow-up to "Dhurandhar". The country will, of course, be nice to the hero. It will redeem the hero, who, of course, will be convinced by the Intelligence Chief (R. Madhavan) to make the necessary sacrifices to be a "true warrior", citing the story of Arjuna from the Mahabharata, including a quote from the Bhagavad Gita to empower and effectively mobilise him.

One word would suffice to describe Ranveer's performance — consistent. We get the aggression. We get the self-destructive tendencies. We get that final shot. Everything he does with his face and body makes perfect sense for his character.

This line about making painful sacrifices lies at the core of "Dhurandhar: The Revenge". Purpose takes the place of grief. But Aditya Dhar does something I found quite clever in his script. He explores the parallels of two father-son relationships of different varieties. In fact, there are three, when you count a certain surprise introduction to a notorious real-life figure. The first and second involve Jaskirat Singh (Ranveer) and Major Iqbal (Arjun Rampal) — sons taking paths different from those of their fathers in order not to end up like them. But heartbreak and pain follow them regardless. The difference between Jaskirat and Iqbal is that the latter ends up becoming a far worse figure than his father.

Dhar adds a backstory for Iqbal that might prompt the question, "Why a backstory for the bad guy?" Why not? Even the worst character in "Game of Thrones" has a revealing backstory that offers potential clues to the shaping of their personality. In “Revenge”, this kind of writing gives some colour and character to Rampal's performance, resulting in his most memorable role since "Daddy".

"Dhurandhar: The Revenge" is longer and paced differently compared to its predecessor. By "differently", the implication is "a bit strangely". And yet, for its nearly four-hour length, not a single moment felt dull. Of course, some areas feel a bit more stretched out than necessary — specifically in the third act, which seemed like the makers were confused about how to end it, and decided to include all the options. At first, you think it's going to end one way — because it felt like the proper way to do it; the realisation that a sense of closure was achieved — but then comes the next one... and the next.

Shashwat Sachdev's score is, once again, top-notch — 90s' kids are likely to take delight in the inclusion of a couple of iconic tracks from the time — but at the same time, one can't help but shake the feeling that when evaluating the overall soundtrack, "Dhurandhar: The Revenge" is just a notch below the former.

It takes a while to realise that "Dhurandhar" is the better-paced film. The first one had its few narrative flaws, but it was put together in a neat, more fluid manner. It was tighter. The staging of the violence in the first one felt more organic and cathartic. The same cannot be said of "Revenge" because there are places where it felt repetitive.

Remember the killing (and chilling) montage in the third act of "The Godfather" or the same thing that Ram Gopal Varma did in "Company" or "Sarkar"? It would look fresh for someone who has been introduced to crime dramas for the first time, but to someone who has seen so many of them — or even some iconic revenge-based Westerns like "Once Upon a Time in the West", which also opened with the massacre of a family — some of the killings might seem too... familiar.

That said, some of the killing methods are quite... inventive. Needless to say, not for the faint-hearted. And don't get me started on CBFC's censorship choices? Like, what kind of logic drives their choices? I'm curious to know. Why mute certain swear words but allow others?

Occasionally, "Revenge" also feels like it's trying hard to overstay its welcome. And, predictably, you’ll find the incorporation of several real, plucked-from-the-headlines events that suggest the possibility of those happening due to the discreet involvement of so-and-so person, just as it did in the first film. And the references are louder this time around. There is no attempt to be subtle. It doesn't try to hide the fact that it's in favour of the actions of a certain party and a certain leader, a writing choice that's going to generate a lot of heated debates on social media.

When many of us don't have a problem with similar creative liberties in international/Hollywood cinema, why see this as anything different? When it comes to blending real and fictional events, it's not so different from what novelists like Frederick Forsyth did. Two examples: In "The Day of the Jackal", he placed a fictional assassin in proximity to real events from 1960s France. In "The Fist of God", he conjured up thrilling espionage activities in Iraq during the Gulf War, when Saddam Hussein was still alive. So why not Aditya Dhar? Let's not forget the lengthy, audible disclaimer at the beginning that reminds us that this is a "fictional" film that was “inspired by" real events. Viewer discretion is advised, naturally.

Can a film be unashamedly toadyish and thoroughly entertaining at the same time? Yes, both things can be true. Just because it has certain scenes and dialogues disagreeable to certain viewers, doesn't mean we cannot acknowledge the fact that it takes a special skill to make audiences look forward to the extremely long second instalment of the extremely long first chapter. How many directors have the ability to make us almost forget that what we are watching has the length of a miniseries? There may be those who felt the urge to take out their phones several times, but I didn't.

Film: Dhurandhar: The Revenge

Director: Aditya Dhar

Cast: Ranveer Singh, Sanjay Dutt, Arjun Rampal, Sara Arjun, R. Madhavan

Rating: 3.5/5

one-piece-live-action-series-season-2-review-netflix-nitin-mugiwara

Wed Mar 18 10:55:08 IST 2026

There was a time in India when watching animated series or reading comics was considered "not cool" enough. But the confluence of art and literature opened a world of possibilities to some of us who loved comics. It was around that time, in the early 2000s high school era, that some of us almost accidentally discovered Japanese anime and manga. Two decades later, anime is not only mainstream but also has found global acceptance. And to know that One Piece was the one piece of literature that did it, is truly special.

Back in school, when I discovered the boy made of rubber, Monkey D. Luffy, and his story to find the fabled treasure, the ‘One Piece’, I never thought it would be such a rewarding journey. As I neared the end of the Egghead arc of the anime, some 1150 episodes later, the second season of the live-action One Piece by Netflix dropped.

Officially called One Piece: Into the Grand Line, the second season covered a major chunk of the events in Reverse Mountain, Whisky Peak, Little Garden and Drum Island. In the anime adaptation, it covers roughly episodes 60 to 91 (around 28 canon episodes), and I was intrigued by how they accomplished it.

The first season of One Piece was perhaps the best adaptation by Netflix I have seen to date. But could they sustain it? Will the series survive more seasons, or will they be unceremoniously axed? One Piece: Into the Grand Line had a lot riding on its hull.

But from the get-go, Netflix managed to silence the critics. What we got were eight episodes of tightly made brilliance.

Iñaki Godoy is back as the lovable Monkey D. Luffy, Emily Rudd gets more comfortable in her portrayal of Nami, and Mackenyu is just Roronoa Zoro. I think Jacob Romero Gibson makes Usopp better. Taz Skylar gives a very different Sanji, which I feel is more palatable to the new age, and for live action.

Charithra Chandran as Nefertari Vivi (Miss Wednesday) is such a refreshing cast, and goes back to the original idea of her origins by mangaka Eiichiro Oda. In fact, I can’t wait to see her and Sendhil Ramamurthy as Nefertari Cobra in the next season.

Mikaela Hoover brings the voice to the adorable Tony Tony Chopper, while Gavin Gomes plays the Heavy Point version of the character.

But I think the winner this season was Lera Abova as Nico Robin (Miss All Sunday), who joins the super talented Joe Manganiello as Sir Crocodile (Mr. 0).

The live action takes a lot of liberty with the source material. But it does so, in a subtle manner, as if it is intentional. Oda’s writing runs on similar lines. If you read the manga, the source material, you see Oda-san hinting at random things, which you end up revisiting years later. The early introduction of Luffy’s reflective fanboy, the absence of the giant duck, and a glimpse of a certain Revolutionary Army figure, all feel like creative choices that have bigger implications rather than customary changes made to fit live action.

Showrunners Matt Owens and Steven Maeda seem to have studied the source material in such detail that their creative spin adds to the epic rather than diminishing it. And that, in itself, is a monumental achievement.

The One Piece live-action series is well-paced and is as far-fetched in its visuals as it is grounded in the underlying subtext. Experience this series not only for the experience, but also for the way it brings some of the most impactful characters to life, like never before.

I went into this series thinking I would be one of its vocal critics, but Oda has won me over the third time, in a completely new format. Divulging any more, and I run the risk of spoiling the season and the show in general. So, it is best left to you to experience it in its entirety.

And for a One Piece veteran such as myself, it is immensely rewarding to watch a whole new generation of youngsters (and adults) being introduced to one of the most relevant yet wild stories ever told—this time, sans the prejudice.

One Piece: Into the Grand Line (aka One Piece Season 2)

Rating: 4 out of 5 | ★★★★☆

Where to watch: Netflix

Cast: Iñaki Godoy, Emily Rudd, Jacob Romero, Taz Skylar, Mackenyu, Mikaela Hoover, Charithra Chandran,

no-other-choice-review-park-chan-wook-returns-with-his-funniest-most-morally-complex-film-yet

Sat Mar 14 16:30:02 IST 2026

Unless you've been living under a rock, or were born yesterday, you'd be familiar with someone saying, "You are not your job, you're not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet". The "Fight Club" quote, like any other quote in the film (and the book), may sound cool and empowering, but only for a brief period. How practical is it to go through your life every day believing that your identity and self-esteem aren't associated with your job or social status at all?

Man-su (Lee Byung-hun), the protagonist of Park Chan-wook's latest feature "No Other Choice", would probably scoff at you for telling him not to associate his identity with his job. This is a man who had put so much effort into his top-level job at a paper manufacturing company for a little over two decades. Everything is hunky dory when the film introduces him and his family, living in a seemingly idyllic existence. He is about to get a rude awakening once he realises why he and his wife have been getting all those lavish gifts in the mail. It's the calm before the storm.

"No Other Choice", out on Mubi, finds Park at his funniest — even more than "The Handmaiden", if you recognised the touches of dark humour in it, that is. It's his most rewarding film in a long time. (No, I wasn't a fan of "Decision to Leave"). The usual Park trademarks are in full display — the double exposures, the stunning transition shots and match cuts, eccentric characters... Some clever work from the sound department elevates the film in some of its most pivotal plot turns. One particular sequence, involving three characters caught in an extremely awkward situation, in which they have to speak at the top of their voices while the music is playing at full volume. It's easily one of the tensest moments I've seen. The ensuing chaos and hilarity would feel right at home in a Coen Brothers film.

But then, one suddenly remembers that this story came from the imagination of author Donald E. Westlake, who, just like other dark humour-tinged crime fiction specialists such as Elmore Leonard and Jim Thompson, wasn't afraid to go a little unhinged when it comes to the absurd situations in which the characters would find themselves.

And one can see why Park, a filmmaker associated with multi-layered and morally complex films, was drawn to this subject. He can present a certain character and invites you to evaluate him/her from a distance rather than being fully involved or attached. But that’s tricky when it comes to his films, because there’s always an emotional layer in them. In "No Other Choice", however, it's hard not to get involved. How can one not, when Man-su's situation prompts their two adorable dogs to be shifted temporarily to their relatives' home, a much-unwelcome development which in turn leads to their autistic daughter being badly upset.

Is it possible, then, to still be on the side of the protagonist when he starts to kill the potential candidates for the next job he badly wants? It gets even more complicated when Park takes the time and effort to draw a clear picture of the family life of Man-su's potential targets. They, too, have loved ones dependent on them. They, too, have something to prove to themselves. They, too, yearn for the strict routine and discipline to which they tuned their daily habits. In one strange case, the target finds out his wife is cheating on him.

Gender dynamics are a key aspect of "No Other Choice", and the female performers put up as remarkable a show as the men. In fact, some of the insanely comical — or tragi-comic — scenarios wouldn't have been possible without their efficient involvement. The high level of insecurity that plagues relationships when you're out of a job, the inability of some men to take charge of their circumstances, the overwhelming pressure of expectations from every corner... What would you do if you were put in the same situation?

Film: No Other Choice
Director: Park Chan-wook
Cast: Lee Byung-hun, Son Ye-jin, Park Hee-soon, Lee Sung-min
Rating: 4.5/5

the-kerala-story-goes-beyond-review-group-therapy-for-saffron-coloured-dummies

Sat Feb 28 16:45:37 IST 2026

(Trigger warning: The following review contains mentions of domestic abuse and sexual violence)

I've never been to therapy. But, after seeing "The Kerala Story 2: Goes Beyond", I'm seriously considering it. Or, maybe I'll just deal with the after-effects by watching multiple videos of fluffy Golden Retrievers and chonky Ragdoll cats. This is a "horror" movie of the bad variety. A couple of reasons. One, this is the kind of movie that you have to be mentally well-prepared for, more than you would a genuine horror movie. Two, it reminds you of the kind of hate that can be manufactured through the medium of cinema.

By "you", I'm referring to the sensible, critical-thinking, independent-minded, progressive ones among us. This is a movie that professes its strong disapproval of this very group — and, of course, Muslims. This movie believes qualities like critical thinking and independence are unhealthy, because apparently, they can corrupt young Hindu girls/women. In this movie's world, there's not a single bad Hindu. They are the champions of purity and culture. Their men can do no wrong, apparently. It's only the Muslim men who are capable of it. In a country where criminals associated with a ruling party, who committed some of the most heinous crimes, are allowed to walk free, right? Who are they trying to fool?

Also, in a movie like this, it's not a surprise that one of the Muslim men, addressed later as a "terrorist", who forces a Hindu girl to convert and confines her to a room forever, was somebody who pretended to be a "Muslim liberal journalist". This is the least amount of the so-called "character development" they can come up with because the other two men are basically the same people except for their appearances. They are all drama queens who indulge in emotional blackmail to ensnare their victims. One cuts his hand. Another slaps himself. The third starts crying at the drop of a hat. All nefarious individuals. But where are the young Hindu men who are capable of doing the same thing? No representation. The only good Hindu men in the movie are the fathers of the three women. And, of course, the other older men who assemble together in the fight, which includes the cops.

It goes without saying that this is a fictional movie completely cooked up in the imagination of people who share the delusion — or should I say, fear? — that their country will be overtaken by Muslims in the future. What kind of dystopian nightmare is this? I'm not asking this out of curiosity, but merely pointing out the absurdity of it all. Such people do exist, and it's evident that this movie is made for "WhatsApp uncles" who believe that all Muslims are as bad as the evil men presented in the movie. It's funny that the so-called "research" this movie is based on is shown in Hindi at the end of the movie, not in English, and read by a narrator in a hurry. Basically, if you can't read Hindi, you're not going to get an idea of what data they're referring to, and if you know Hindi, you're not given enough time to process. The same goes for the dialogues without English subtitles.

As for the Malayalis, no, this movie isn't set entirely in Kerala. Three locations: Kochi, Jodhpur, and Gwalior. The characters and their parents, even the joke of a Malayali "representation" — basically, Shalini Unnikrishnan 2.0 and Thekkepattu Sundari Damodharan Pillai 2.0 — mostly speak in Hindi with the occasional use of "acha" (dad), "amma" (mom) and "adipoli" (super). I wish they had completely stuck to Hindi because whenever they utter a badly pronounced Malayalam word, it's like dipping beef in ice cream (not that I've tried it, but beef lovers can imagine). Speaking of beef, it's the "progressive" Malayali woman (played by Ulka Gupta in the hammiest manner possible) who is forced to eat beef by her Muslim boyfriend and the group of purdha-clad women at his lair. What's even funnier is that, after all the torture, she later magically realises that her true identity has always been... Hindu. Whoa!

I must, however, say that Aishwarya Ojha is quite good as a promising javelin thrower, a devout Hindu woman, who, out of all the three women, has to endure the worst, which involves getting raped multiple times by men of all age groups. She is so convincing in depicting her suffering that you can't help but feel moved. But at the same time, one cannot help but think how tricky this casting is, because there's the nagging sense that, by casting such a strong performer, the makers are manipulating you in the cheapest manner possible. While on cheap, don't get me started on how these sexual assaults are shot. It's as cheap as anything you see in a 1980s/1990 movie. You know, the men coming out of the bedroom one by one, with a look of either smug satisfaction or a wicked smile. Two of the actors are classic examples of typecasting. One of the rapists, played by Madhur Mittal, has played the same role before, in Raveena Tandon's "Maatr". Ojha, on the other hand, played a Muslim rape victim, the Bilkis Bano stand-in, in the opening portions of actor-director Prithviraj Sukumaran's "L2E: Empuraan" — a movie that right-wing groups had a BIG problem with, for obvious reasons. You could ask why these actors chose to do movies like these. Well, it's their job, isn't it? Don't count on celebrities to validate your political ideologies.

"The Kerala Story 2: Goes Beyond" ends with a "triumphant" sequence involving a bunch of bulldozers and a song with "Har Har Mahadev" and "Shivaji" in the lyrics. Talk about subtle. No, movies like this shouldn't be banned. Absolutely not. Let them continue to make them. It helps understand — for those who can stomach the kind of sensory assault filmmakers like these subject their viewers to — the insidious minds that not only make such movies but also vehemently back them.

Film: The Kerala Story 2: Goes Beyond

Director: Kamakhya Narayan Singh

Cast: Ulka Gupta, Aishwarya Ojha, Aditi Bhatia, Sumit Gahlawat, Arjan Singh Aujla, Yuktam Kholsa

Rating: 1/5

masthishka-maranam-review-when-priyadarshan-and-james-cameron-went-to-a-bar-in-trivandrum

Fri Feb 27 12:09:34 IST 2026

“I think people are perverts. It’s the foundation of my career.” I'm quoting filmmaker David Fincher. Every film of his has been an exploration of the innermost recesses of the human mind, the extent of depravity, and the fantasies that lie on different ends of the emotional spectrum. Voyeurism, in fact, has been the foundation of every filmmaker’s career, hasn’t it?

After all, we all peek into the “realities” of different “flesh and blood” human beings that exist in a whole different realm made completely out of film grain, digits and pixels. Or they exist in the cells of their creator itself, sometimes failing to materialise on paper or screen. Filmmakers like Fincher (“Se7en”, “Mindhunter”) only brought attention to human beings’ capacity for acting out their unhealthy impulses, holding a mirror just long enough to make them squirm in their seats.

With his new film, “Masthishka Maranam: The Frankenbiting of Simon’s Memories”, Krishand is doing the same thing. The only difference is, unlike Fincher, he’ll make you laugh non-stop while making you uncomfortable. By “uncomfortable”, I don’t apply a negative connotation. I mean, if your sexual fantasies aren’t harmful enough, and provided you aren’t acting them out — and don’t ever intend to in the future — this film isn’t going to catapult your blood pressure to stratospheric levels. Don’t worry. One of the funniest films I’ve seen this year, “Masthishka Maranam,” shows that you can make an international-level science fiction film in India with a limited budget if you’re smart enough to use your resources.

Of course, I bet this is Krishand’s most expensive film yet — the vibrant colours, convincing and immersive vfx and production design are all evidence of it — but when compared to the biggies, this is still an indie-level effort, but one that looks like a big-scale epic thanks to, well, the aforementioned reasons.

The concept is not new, of course. James Cameron first explored the idea of tapping into other people's memories in his story treatment in the disturbing 1995 thriller "Strange Days", directed by Kathryn Bigelow. In Krishand's cyberpunk satire, characters living in 2046 Kochi (Kerala) are trying to plug into a virtual reality machine to escape their traumatic memories. For convenience, I’ll refer to the actors’ names instead of the characters. So, there’s Niranj Maniyanpilla Raju as the protagonist who happens to be a grieving father.

But since this is a Krishand film, scenes of brooding characters are virtually nil. This is not “Minority Report” — you know, that excellent Tom Cruise-Steven Spielberg sci-fi film where the former keeps playing digital files of his dead child. No, the protagonist of Krishand’s film, despite trying to access what are basically stolen memories of dead people — basically, what they saw right before their deaths — to distract himself from grief.

Long story short, Niranj ends up talking to somebody who leads him to somebody else who then leads him to this… exciting… virtual reality device that’s meant to give him kicks of the sexual variety. However, there’s a problem: this fantasy involves the mind-intruding “clip,” modelled after a real individual, a "most desirable" celebrity played by Rajisha Vijayan. He went in for one thing, now he’s dealing with a couple of murders. But since they happen inside this “alternate” reality, does he really have to worry? Or, wait a minute, is he really in the memory of one person, or somebody else’s? Or, is it actually a shared memory?

Basically, everyone, including one or two women (if memory serves me right), is simping for Rajisha.

Well, there’s more, but it’s better to experience everything on the screen instead of reading about it. Yeah, this is the kind of film which packs in a lot of things, but in a manner accessible to all age groups. I would say “Masthishka Maranam” came out at the right time. I mean, in this age where some people are already saying that they get more excitement out of AI-generated images than porn, Krishand’s film tackles a more extreme version of this idea in such a way that you begin to believe that this… what he is showing in the film… could very well be the actual reality twenty years later.

Krishand explores a multitude of topics and humour drawn from Indian pop culture, ranging from ridiculous celebrity worship — for instance, an actress with a temple named after her, with an idol modelled after her; an idol that literally starts breaking, piece by piece, the minute someone's idealised illusion of her is shattered — to greedy streaming platforms that want to live-stream a court case involving her, and cinematic influences that include 1980s Priyadarshan comedies, Japanese anime ("Ghost in the Shell")... well, the list is endless.

There’s a reason why I chose this headline. What if James Cameron and Priyadarshan went to a bar in Trivandrum? Because Krishand’s imagination works this way. Let me give you an example without ruining the jokes.

We get a courtroom drama in the third act that feels so fresh and genuine. It looks like a beautifully shot Daft Punk music video where the people sound like characters from a 1980s Priyadarshan classic. The judge prefers everyone to address him by his first name — no “sir” or “objection sustained" or any of the other courtroom jargon we’ve heard before in the so-called “cinematic-realistic” legal dramas.

This situation, for instance, is a perfect showcase for the strengths of not just Rajisha Vijayan (“Bison”, “Anuraga Karikkin Vellam”) but also Divya Prabha (“All We Imagine as Light”, “Ariyippu”). They are required to be a little over-the-top, and there’s a damn good reason for this, which is revealed in the climax. This film provides these two women opportunities to demonstrate a side they haven’t before.

But it’s not just the women; there’s a truckload of talented actors — beginning with the under-utilised Niranj, whose comic timing eerily recalls his dad in the early Priyadarshan movies — who would be familiar to those who have seen all of Krishand’s work so far.

Rahul Rajagopal, for instance, who was the lead in Krishand's National award-winning "Aavasavyuham", surprises once again with another peculiar character who contributes to the laughs. (You can find the names of the principal cast below.) All the songs and promos you’ve seen of this film until now… that’s not what the actual film is. And there’s also a damn good reason for the lyrics and music of the songs to sound that way. Krishand has evidently taken a lot of things into consideration to arrive at every creative choice — from the background colours and props to the editing, aside from the costumes and musical choices.

There's an alternate version of this movie playing in my head that features Nikhila Vimal, considering how she has a certain image among men and the constant pestering she has to deal with from cheap online channels named after certain birds. (It's one of the real-world situations that Krishand takes a dig at in this film. I think she would've done great in this role, too.)

“Masthishka Maranam” is the fastest of Krishand’s films so far. It’s edited in such a way that it mimics the mindspace of someone tormented by fragmented memories. And, of course, the glitchy, distorted images that are occasionally embellished with comic book-style text and art, all evoking the manner in which we consume media on Instagram and other social media apps. There’s so much happening on the screen at times that it might seem overwhelming for some; however, these details are also peppered throughout in a way that makes the hardcore sci-fi, comic book or movie lover in us want to relish every detail.

“Masthishka Maranam” is one of those films that, despite not being difficult to follow, warrants multiple revisits because one viewing isn't enough to grasp every detail. That is, of course, if you have a taste for the kind of absurd humour it has to offer. It should appeal to fans of Lijo Jose Pellissery’s “Double Barrel” (I count myself among them) — however, this one doesn’t go to the same extreme length. Hopefully, that should be a relief. I cannot guarantee that this would work for all.

But then, which film that has been made so far in the entire world can claim to please every single Tom, Dick, and Harry? In my book, Krishand has not disappointed even once. “Masthishka Maranam” is the first GREAT film of 2026 for me — yet another testament to the exquisitely wild imagination of one of Malayalam cinema’s most promising filmmakers right now. I hope he continues to get more and bigger opportunities regardless of the box office reception.

The film left me with an interesting thought. If there were a law that forbade everyone on this planet from having sexual fantasies, even the enforcers of this law would be in (horny) jail.

Film: Masthishka Maranam: The Frankenbiting of Simon’s Memories

Director: Krishand

Cast: Rajisha Vijayan, Niranj Maniyanpilla Raju, Jagadish, Zhinz Shan, Nandhu, Suresh Krishna, Divya Prabha, Ann Salim, Jagadish, Shambu, Vishnu Agasthya, Rahul Rajagopal, Manoj Kana, Sreenath Babu, Anoop Mohandas, Santhy Balachandran, Jain Andrews, Sachin Joseph, Sanju Sivram

Rating: 4.5/5

good-luck-have-fun-dont-die-review-why-smartphone-and-technology-addiction-is-bad-for-you

Sun Feb 22 15:10:23 IST 2026

I've always felt that when it comes to high-concept, visually stunning, highly cinematic escapist fare, filmmaker Gore Verbinski comes close to the impressive craftsmanship and flair of Steven Spielberg. I've been a strong defender of Verbinski's last couple of films, which were critical and box-office bombs — "The Lone Ranger" and "A Cure for Wellness" — but Verbinski's weakest work, in my eyes, is way more entertaining and immersive than many films with high Rotten Tomatoes scores.

His films are all led by characters that don't follow the norm — eccentric characters that are subjected to extraordinary circumstances; individuals who are forced to step out of their comfort zones and take risks. Besides, Verbinski is one of the rare filmmakers working today who knows where to put the camera and how to move it with a great sense for lighting and atmosphere.

His latest, "Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die", which sees him back in the director's chair after a decade, is no different. It has been seen as a "comeback" by many critics, and I can see why. Unlike the characters in his last couple of films, there is an endearing quality to some of them, aside from, of course, the central concept, heavy on thought-provoking science fiction combined with pitch-black satire. It's basically The Terminator-meets-Dr. Strangelove.

But the films and ideas evoked by Verbinski's film are not just limited to what those two titles made us feel. The influences run the gamut from H.G. Wells' seminal time-travel fiction "The Time Machine" to "Indiana Jones" and possibly the cinema of John Carpenter, George Romero and Dario Argento. Oh, and a bit of Terry Gilliam too ("Brazil", anyone?). There are enough genres and moods to make one's head spin... in a good way, of course.

While it doesn't quite approach the extreme zaniness of an "Everything Everywhere All at Once" — not that it's a bad thing — but, despite the amount of wild scenarios endured by Sam Rockwell and the rest of the members of the motley crew he assembles to save the world from an approaching dystopia triggered by human beings' increasing dependence on technology, the film finds an impressive way to balance all its tones without making it seem jarring. Verbinski and his writer, Matthew Robinson, have a good sense of where to put what and when.

"Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die" also manages to do something that we normally credit TV shows for: giving enough attention to each character's backstory that we get a clear sense of their emotional landscape and the motivation for why they wanted to be involved in the journey of someone who claimed to be from the future — it happens the weirdo was indeed telling the truth!

In doing so, the film also embodies the characteristics of an individuals-on-a-mission adventure, with each player having a fair amount of memorable qualities, staring with Sam Rockwell's determined, trauma-driven protagonist, who has a lot in common with Jack Sparrow from the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies which catapulted Verbinski to the league of esteemed blockbuster directors. Only here, every traumatic event is tied to technology. One of the characters is allergic to — wait for it — mobile phones and Wi-Fi! And another character, a mother, experiences something similar to what Spielberg explored in his 2001 film "Artificial Intelligence".

It takes some crazier detours in the third act that can be described as mindf*** of the best kind, but mentioning all that would spoil the fun. "Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die" is essentially "The Matrix" or "Inception" of 2026 — unless, of course, a far superior film arrives to take its place.

Film: Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die

Director: Gore Verbinski

Cast: Sam Rockwell, Haley Lu Richardson, Michael Peña, Zazie Beetz, Asim Chaudhry, Juno Temple

Rating: 5/5

oromeo-review-shahid-kapoor-shines-but-vishal-bhardwajs-saga-falls-short

Fri Feb 13 19:20:52 IST 2026

The 1990s in Mumbai were no ordinary years. Bollywood coloured the city’s imagination, and the underworld often called the shots. The two did not merely coexist, but were entangled, glamour and gunpowder sharing the same scene. That is the world ‘O’Romeo’, Vishal Bhardwaj’s latest, drops us into. The film opens with Shahid Kapoor’s Romeo, known as Ustara, storming a cinema hall on a killing spree as Madhuri Dixit writhes across the screen to the tune of ‘Dhak Dhak’.

Ustara was once an aide to the dreaded don Jamal (Avinash Tiwary). But their equation sours, and he’s largely restricted to the sea, only stepping on the land to execute hit jobs for Intelligence Bureau officer Ismail (Nana Patekar).

Ustara kills a lot, drinks a lot, and sleeps with a lot of women. He’s hardened, as if in a bid to fight his demons. Yet when Afsha (Triptii Dimri) – gorgeous, grieving and quietly resolute – steps on his boat, something shifts. The blade-wielding Ustara softens.

Afsha has come to place a contract to kill none other than Jamal, the city’s most feared don, and the man who killed her husband, Mehboob (Vikrant Massey). Ustara hesitates; this is not an ordinary hit.

But Afsha’s quiet resolve softens him, and soon, he falls deeply for her. This is no longer just a hit job, but a mission that stretches beyond that, across countries and continents, and fuelled as much by love as by blood.

‘O’Romeo’ is delicious on paper: 1990s Mumbai, the underworld, gangsters, vengeance, love and gore — themes we have seen before, yet ones that Vishal Bhardwaj approaches with freshness and some depth.

However, it stretches only this far. Kapoor is terrific as Ustara, but the film never quite interrogates the ‘why’ behind the intensity of his love for Afsha. His leap from a bloodthirsty assassin to besotted “Romeo” feels abrupt, and the transformation, though passionately performed, doesn’t fully land.

The film’s biggest let-down, however, is Jamal, not in how Tiwary plays him, but in how he is written. On paper, he is monstrous: a larger-than-life don who slits the throat of the wife he loves to death, and parades her severed head in public after he learns she killed his brother. The script grants him spectacle, yet he never quite evokes dread. For all the brutality attributed to him, Jamal feels curiously weightless, more paper tiger than kingpin.

‘O’Romeo’ boasts a formidable supporting cast, Nana Patekar, Farida Jalal, Tamanaah Bhatia and Aruna Irani, yet most are reduced to fleeting appearances. Only Patekar truly registers, keeping you on edge even as he cracks you up in moments of humour.

As Ustara, Kapoor goes all in yet remains controlled, delivering a performance that anchors the film. Dimri is excellent, bringing quiet intensity to Afsha, Avinash Tiwary does justice to whatever he’s offered. Ultimately, this is a Shahid Kapoor film, not essentially a must-watch, but worth a watch for the performances alone.

crime-101-review-exceptional-performances-power-this-tense-michael-mann-influenced-crime-drama

Fri Feb 13 17:52:03 IST 2026

Die-hard fans of Michael Mann's cinema — "Thief", "Heat" — will take delight in filmmaker Bart Layton's venture into similar territory. You'll see visual and thematic nods throughout the film. However, it has a distinct energy and tone that veers from the darker and cynical trajectories of Mann's films. Based on Don Winslow's novella, "Crime 101" is pulsating with nervous energy from the get-go.

Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Halle Berry, Monica Barbaro, Barry Keoghan, Peyman Maadi (”A Separation”), and others inhabit a space that's harsh, unfair, and offers little space for the honest, idealist, and structure-loyal folks and instead favours the unscrupulous kind more. The character sketches are all clearly drawn. Every actor and significant character is given the necessary space to flesh out their characters in such a manner that one is thoroughly invested in what happens to one or more characters, regardless of which side of the law they operate on.

Some of the characters have qualities that seem familiar to us from iconic crime films of the past, but with a fresh twist. It's as though Crime 101 is, for both Layton and Winslow, an opportunity to explore what would've happened if the most endearing and relatable characters in "Heat" or "Thief" lived in an alternate reality, with an outcome different from what we expect from the Mann films. There is much that Mike Davis (Chris Hemsworth) has in common with Robert De Niro's Neil McCauley. The same can be said of Mark Ruffalo's Det. Lou Lubesnick, who shares some character traits with Al Pacino's Vincent Hanna. But they are also not the same characters, because McCauley and Hanna wouldn't have made the same choices as these guys do here because, after all, it's not... a Michael Mann film.

The premise is built around the interesting idea of one man committing several robberies in the same area — Los Angeles' US 101 highway, which serves as a bridge to neighbouring cities — and the complications that arise when one's principles are taken for granted by different parties. Mike is a lone wolf, and so is Lou. And then there's Halle Berry's Sharon Combs, an insurance broker who is not given the respect and position that's due to her after more than a decade of service.

Berry gets an exhilarating scene in a crucial juncture towards the third act, which finds an appropriate outlet for years of repressed feelings. She is to "Crime 101" what Pam Grier was to "Jackie Brown". Her eventual involvement with Mike and Lou teases complicated outcomes. And, of course, the woman seems to be getting more gorgeous with every passing year (she is 59!)

The film's narrative structure is a showcase for some delightful match cuts, demonstrating some neat contrasts between the three characters that are cleverly incorporated at the most suitable junctures, reinforcing the impression that they are all kindred spirits in one way or another.

Barry Keoghan's Ormon is the Joker-type figure in this story — a powder keg of a character who wreaks havoc wherever he goes. The cinematographic choices are calibrated to mirror the energy of the characters during high-stakes, high-intensity scenarios. Calm and steady when following the actions of Mike; jittery and mobile in the case of Ormon. Two robberies with contrasting moods and tempos demonstrate this perfectly.

Monica Barbaro, as Maya, is a warm and welcome presence in Mike's life, who is hoping to see him break his shell and present his true self. Her interactions with Mike will recall for some the James Caan-Tuesday Weld diner scene in "Thief".

Ruffalo's performance might evoke a few elements of what he did in the recent HBO series "Task" and, of course, "Zodiac", but as always, the actor brings something new to the table, as do Hemsworth, Berry, and Keoghan. If you're the sort who prefers their crime films to have multiple characters with screwed-up personal lives and multiple moments where they are caught in contemplative moments inside an office or living room overlooking a cityscape or a beach when they are not in the middle of high-speed chases, then "Crime 101" is the film you're looking for.

Film: Crime 101
Director: Bart Layton
Cast: Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Halle Berry, Monica Barbaro, Barry Keoghan, Peyman Madi
Rating: 4/5

the-things-you-kill-review-what-if-christopher-nolan-and-david-lynch-had-a-turkish-baby

Thu Feb 12 12:57:52 IST 2026

This is one of those films about which, when you recommend it to somebody, you have to tell them to pay attention right from the opening scene. If it were released in theatres, coming a few minutes late would completely spoil the experience. When viewed at home, ensure that you're not distracted from the first frame to the last.

The director of the acclaimed Terrestrial Verses has returned with a mindbender in the guise of a family drama. "The Things You Kill", streaming on Prime Video, is the sort of the film that's comparable to Christopher Nolan's "Memento" or "Insomnia" or David Lynch's "Mulholland Drive" or Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" — comparable not in terms of the filmmaking styles, but in terms of their surreal, elusive quality which might prompt further viewings.

So, what's "The Things You Kill" about? I'll ensure a spoiler-free description. Ekin Koç is a University professor teaching translation part-time. His subject isn't on the top priority list; he is told that the subject will be taken off the curriculum soon. Adding further to his woes is his inability to have a child despite trying multiple times, while he and his wife try to figure out which one of them is "defective".

Meanwhile, his mother passes away under suspicious circumstances. The professor now wants to play detective, questioning every family member. And then, out of nowhere, comes this gardener looking for a job. This is when the film gets really interesting. Let's just say Nolan, Lynch, and Kubrick are not the only names one would think of after this. How about Michelangelo Antonioni? How about another Turkish filmmaker, Nuri Bilge Ceylan?

Like Ceylan and some of his acclaimed contemporaries from Middle Eastern cinema, filmmaker Alireza Khatami's filmmaking approach is markedly minimalist and stable, opting for an unhurried pace, largely stationary frames, medium shots and wides, with the occasional close-ups. The actors are all efficient with their naturalistic, lived-in performances.

The photography, by Bartosz Swiniarski, opts for muted colours and dim lights in interiors, evoking a sense of nervousness even when the characters are not demonstrating hysterical behaviour. We feel this even when the characters get out in the open, in the sun. An unsettling quality begins to permeate the film the minute the gardener enters the picture, sowing the seeds of confusion and puzzling mystery — the good kind, of course! And that cracker of an ending!

Khatami doesn't give any clear answers, instead relying on the viewer to put two and two together. The deceptive narrative structure prompts questions pertaining to identities, past and present events, and their timelines. Is it a mystery? Is it a horror story? Is it a dysfunctional family drama? Is it a crime drama? It's whatever you interpret it to be.

Film: The Things You Kill
Director: Alireza Khatami
Cast: Ekin Koç, Erkan Kolçak Köstendil, Hazar Ergüçlü, Ercan Kesal
Rating: 4/5

aashaan-review-after-guppy-and-ambili-johnpaul-george-returns-with-his-most-entertaining-film

Thu Feb 05 15:50:52 IST 2026

The paths of two men seeking to make their debut in cinema cross in exceptionally amusing and, eventually, emotionally cathartic ways in Aashan, filmmaker Johnpaul George's third film after Guppy and Ambili. It's been seven years since he directed the last one. In the meantime, he produced one of Malayalam cinema's biggest successes, Romancham. There is a common factor that binds all three films: neither of them has superstars (Tovino was not as big as he is now when he did Guppy), and they're all about singular individuals, across different age groups, who seek to achieve something.

George's casting and storytelling choices are, just like him, those that go against the grain. He is one of the younger crop of filmmakers who don't feel the compulsion to cast a big star to tell their simple stories. All it requires is a lot of heart. Aashan is a perfect example. It's his most entertaining film.

Indrans (as Aashaan) and Joemon Jyothir (as Anandan) are the two men who dream of making it in cinema — the older man as an actor, the younger man as a filmmaker. The film opens with the latter. It's a big relief to see Jyothir, who has lately been playing the comic relief supporting character successively, playing a lead character with the measure of seriousness it demands. But he also gets to be funny, but not in the stereotypical, Insta-reel manner in which he was asked to do in his recent films.

Most of the humour is organic, originating from serious moments where his patience is tested and his talents questioned. He has something in common with Mohanlal's character in Udhayananu Thaaram or any real-life assistant director who is willing to put in the effort to make things work. But Aashaan, the film, also evokes the vibe of many stories centred on cinephiles who hope to see their names on the big screen. Aside from the aforementioned examples, one also remembers anything from Chirakondinja Kinavukal (underrated!) to the most recent Driving Licence.

George gives enough time to Anandan first before introducing us to Aashan because the two characters have equal prominence. Aashaan is a character that offers Indrans an opportunity to once again switch his comedic side that some of us 90s kids grew up watching. But Aashaan is not a clown either. This is someone who is vulnerable and moves through life with dignity and steely resolve, even during humiliating instances that threaten to become a source of great disillusionment and break his spirit.

There are jokes aplenty. The film crew that ends up shooting their film at Aashaan's building has to navigate challenging instances where they have to either maintain an absolutely noiseless environment or be content with hundreds of takes, or deal with a star for whom working without his wig is an unacceptable thought or the various crew members with their own quirks and colourful personalities, among many other things. These characters are written in such a way that they can make us laugh even when they are sitting silently or taking a nap. It's the kind of quality we have seen once in the early films of Sathyan Anthikad or Priyadarshan.

Speaking of Anthikad, Sobhi Thilakan, playing the filmmaker-producer, is a spitting image of his father in Nadodikaattu as he struggles to mount a production on which he has bet his life and his savings. These are not perfect, idealistic characters — some disagreeable behavioural traits are revealed in due time — but they are dead serious about their work.

The only time the energy in the film dips is when it briefly goes into a film-within-film mode, with a tone that's diametrically opposite to what we saw until then. These portions, which are placed near the third act, are slightly tiring owing to the layer of artifice and the overall tone. But it's also understandable why incorporating it is important, because here's where the cinema-as-therapy idea comes through strongly. Here's also where both Anandan and Aashaan become, in a strange way, father and son. There is a purging process that happens when one's personal trauma is channelled into a work where two different art forms converge meaningfully. Sure, the long duration might become a patience-tester after a certain point, but everything else up to that point is such a wholesome, worthwhile experience that one is willing to overlook its minor shortcomings.

Film: Aashaan
Director: Johnpaul George
Cast: Indrans, Joemon Jyothir, Sobhi Thilakan, Bibin Perumbilli, Albin Bino
Rating: 3.5/5

mardaani-3-review-rani-mukherjees-crime-thriller-elevates-itself-beyond-genre-trappings

Fri Jan 30 21:27:03 IST 2026

With Mardaani (2014), Rani Mukerji redefined the Hindi film cop not as a swaggering, hyper-masculine force, but as a woman whose strength lay in restraint, moral clarity and quiet rage.

Tackling child trafficking head-on, the film drew its power from discomfort rather than dramatics, making violence feel consequential. It was gritty, intimate, and deeply unsettling establishing a template for a franchise that would place women, both victims and protectors, at the centre of its moral universe.

Mardaani 2 (2019) pushed that discomfort even further. Inspired by real crimes, it confronted sexual violence with an unflinching gaze, forcing audiences to sit with their own anger and helplessness. Shivani, now older and more battle-hardened, wasn’t just fighting a criminal she was up against a system that repeatedly fails women.

Across both films, Shivani Shivaji Roy emerged not as a larger-than-life icon, but as a mirror reflecting society’s violence, apathy, and occasional courage. It is from this legacy of anger, empathy and ethical urgency that Mardaani 3 arrives.

The film stays firmly within the franchise’s moral spine, violence against women, this time framed through disappearance rather than aftermath. Missing girls immediately shifts the dread: it’s quieter, slower, more procedural, and deeply unsettling because the crime is absence itself.

This also fits Shivani Shivaji Roy’s arc. From rescuing trafficked children (Mardaani), to confronting sexual brutality (Mardaani 2), the third chapter widening the lens to missing girls feels like a commentary on how easily women can vanish in plain sight, lost in paperwork, jurisdictional apathy, and social indifference. The horror isn’t just what’s being done to them, but how little urgency their disappearance generates.

This time, opening in Bulandshahr immediately grounds Mardaani 3 in a recognisable North Indian hinterland, far from the metropolitan comfort zones Hindi cinema often retreats into. The abduction of two girls as the very first image sets the film’s tone: this is not a mystery that unfolds gradually, but a crime the audience is forced to witness.

What gives Mardaani 3 its edge is how it steadily peels away the glamour from crime to expose its chilling banality. The film is least interested in shock for shock’s sake and more invested in the systems that allow brutality to masquerade as normalcy. The missing girls are not merely plot devices; they are reminders of how easily bodies disappear into bureaucratic cracks. Minawala resists melodrama, choosing instead to let silence, waiting rooms, and half-lit corridors do the heavy lifting. The dread creeps in gradually, settling like dust rather than arriving with a bang.

Mukerji’s Shivani Roy, now seasoned and visibly wearier, carries the weight of experience with quiet authority. This is no longer a cop driven purely by rage; she is alert to the moral fatigue that accompanies endless battles with evil. Her restraint becomes her sharpest weapon. Mallika Prasad’s Amma, on the other hand, is written with unnerving calm less a monster than a manipulator who thrives on fear, loyalty, and carefully cultivated myth. Their confrontation is not just physical but ideological: order versus chaos, accountability versus absolute power.

The film’s final stretch tightens the screws without losing narrative clarity. Action is functional, never ornamental, and the violence when it comes, feels earned rather than staged. Colombo, as the setting for the climax, works less as an exotic detour and more as a reminder that crime, like complicity, knows no borders. The resolution resists easy triumph, opting instead for a measured sense of closure that acknowledges victory as temporary and vigilance as permanent.

Mardaani 3 understands that the real horror lies not in the villain’s cruelty but in the world that enables it. By grounding its thriller mechanics in a larger socio-medical reality, the film elevates itself beyond genre trappings. It is taut, morally alert, and powered by a lead performance that grows richer with each instalment. If this is Shivani Shivaji Roy’s continuing fight, it is one worth watching because the film never lets us forget that the battle against evil is neither spectacular nor simple, only necessary.

valathu-vashathe-kallan-review-jeethu-joseph-reimagines-drishyam-through-a-darker-lens-with-middling-results

Fri Jan 30 15:06:44 IST 2026

Jeethu Joseph is among the last names that come to mind when thinking of films with decent — or at least half decent — visual quality. After all, he has always been about trying to impress audiences with a twists-laden story. The filmmaker has been as inconsistent with the visual quality of his films as with the storytelling. A few films in his filmography stand out for their atmosphere. Memories, Kooman, and the 12th Man... There is evidence there that Jeethu and his frequent cinematographer Sathish Kurup actually put considerable effort into the way their latest film looks. Valathu Vashathe Kallan (The thief to the right) seems, for the most part, like a film where some thought went into how it should look, even though it's not on the same level as anything conjured up by David Fincher.

To begin with, there is not a single sunny scene in the film. It's all muted colours, diffused lighting — a colour palette that doesn't overwhelm with its amber and cyan tones as most thrillers made in South India do these days. There's an attempt to work with some highlights, shadows and contrast as befitting a story of this nature. There's a reason the entire film feels drained of colour, because Biju Menon's character, Antony Xavier, is a cop leading a colourless existence. Will the sun ever appear in his life?

It will — at least a hint of it, but the context is not one we would normally associate with such an image. But revealing that would be spoiler territory. There's a lot in Valathu Vashatha Kallan that cannot be mentioned. Because it's basically a darker reimagining of what Jeethu Joseph did in Drishyam. The idea seems to be born out of the question: What if Drishyam is looked at with a different, darker perspective, but with different characters?

This is a film driven strongly by biblical iconography and themes. Exodus 34:7 (the sins of the father...) figure heavily into the narrative. The film opens with a son (KR Gokul of 'Aadujeevitham') and a father (Biju Menon) visiting the same therapist in succession on the same day. Mention of some unresolved trauma and a fractured relationship between the father and son. What wrong did the father do? Does it have anything to do with his profession as a police officer, soon revealed to be of the dubious variety? Or does it have something to do with what happened during the boy's childhood, or did it all start way before his birth?

The answers are all revealed in due time. Meanwhile, there are multiple casualties, perhaps linked directly or indirectly to Antony. It then tracks another family, a happy one, comprising Joju George's Samuel, his wife, Theresa (Lena), and daughter Irene (Vyshnavi Raj).

Without giving anything away, every grave (pun intended) event in this film is caused by the actions of men, due to various reasons. The far-reaching ramifications of one past incident reach out to haunt two families, causing tragedy and mental distress. Sound familiar? But VVK is no Drishyam. Here's the thing about Drishyam. Its existence, I think, is both a boon and a curse. Blessing, because it pushes future writers to come up with smarter, more challenging ideas — aside from, of course, the fact that it has spawned multiple sequels and remakes, offering opportunities to many across industries. Curse, because when someone else, even its own maker, tries to attempt something different with the same concept, it doesn't generate the same excitement.

Again, it must be clarified that VVK and Drishyam are two different films with two different intentions. However, they both share thematic similarities. I guess it would be better to call VVK a "thematic spin-off". There are a few solid ideas here, and it helps that they are being presented through two of Malayalam cinema's finest actors with enough tricks up their sleeves that even when VVK operates with a weakened energy, we are willing to continue watching, at the risk of being drained of energy, which it does eventually. And that has to do with some of the confusion caused by the multiple misdirections in the film.

After a point, the surprise revelations don't feel organic enough — not to mention the artificial-sounding and occasionally comical delivery of lines made out of familiar buzzwords like 'feminism', 'toxicity' and 'male chauvinism' — because the characters, both good and bad, aren’t compelling enough to make us care. That’s the difference between George Kutty and any of the characters in VVK.

By the end, we also feel deprived of a true sense of justice, even when one central character decides to take on the burden of "poetic justice" in the end. Despite its imperfections and lack of overall impact, I was relieved to see that VVK was nothing like Jeethu's last film, Mirage. But that’s not supposed to be a compliment.

Film: Valathu Vashathe Kallan
Director: Jeethu Joseph
Cast: Biju Menon, Joju George, Lena, KR Gokul, Vyshnavi Raj, Irshad
Rating: 2/5

gandhi-talks-review-arvind-swami-vijay-sethupathi-movie-let-silence-speak-while-led-by-ar-rahman-s-music

Fri Jan 30 11:40:52 IST 2026

In an era where Hindi cinema often equates volume with impact, Gandhi Talks makes a radical, almost defiant choice: it refuses to speak. Directed by Kishore Pandurang Belekar, the film unfolds almost entirely without dialogue, asking its audience to lean in rather than be spoon-fed.

At its core, Gandhi Talks is less a narrative-driven film and more a moral meditation. The plot, deliberately sparse, centres on characters navigating inner conflict and conscience in a world fraying at its ethical edges. The absence of spoken words strips cinema to its bare essentials: faces, frames, sound, and stillness.

The plot is such that Arvind Swami plays Mohan Boseman, a once-wealthy real estate developer whose life is in free fall. Personal loss precedes professional collapse—his wife and daughter die in a plane crash, his mother succumbs to a heart attack, and Boseman is left alone in a sprawling bungalow that soon becomes a symbol of everything he is about to lose. When his most ambitious and emotionally charged project, a towering high-rise called Mother’s Touch, goes up in flames, the destruction feels almost prophetic. The fire triggers a financial implosion: investors demand their money back, the company shuts down, luxury cars are seized, and Boseman is handed a 48-hour ultimatum before his bungalow is auctioned off.

On the other end of the spectrum is Vijay Sethupathi’s character, a man submerged in relentless misfortune. He lives in a cramped chawl with his ageing, ailing mother, struggling to survive one day at a time. Money is perpetually scarce; he cannot afford his daily tiffin, medical expenses pile up, and dignity is negotiated through odd jobs, including performing as a clown at children’s parties. Yet, despite the extremity of his poverty, Sethupathi’s character is morally anchored, guided by a quiet but firm belief in right and wrong.

The spark that connects these two lives comes from an incident that is both trivial and devastating. When Boseman accidentally drives over Sethupathi’s currency notes, sending them flying onto the road and tearing them in the process, it destroys the little money Sethupathi has. The torn note becomes a symbol of casual privilege colliding with fragile survival. For Sethupathi, this is not merely an accident; it is humiliation, loss, and injustice rolled into one moment, igniting a desire for revenge.

Realising Boseman’s stature and wealth, Sethupathi begins plotting a robbery, not just as retaliation, but as a way to reclaim control over his life. The plan is driven by desperation and hope in equal measure: to bring stability to his household, care for his mother, and build a future with Gayatri, played by Aditi Rao Hydari. What begins as a crime born of resentment slowly morphs into something far more complicated.

The second half of the film unfolds almost entirely within Boseman’s bungalow, where Sethupathi’s intrusion leads to an unexpected confrontation. As the two men are forced into proximity, certainties begin to fracture. Grief meets deprivation, power meets vulnerability, and revenge collides with empathy. What follows is less about the act of theft and more about a profound moral reckoning that alters both men in ways neither anticipates.

Director Kishore Pandurang Belekar handles this transition with remarkable control. The film moves through a spectrum of emotions, paying close attention to the minutiae of everyday life: the ironies, contradictions, and moral grey zones that define human existence. With dialogue largely absent, meaning is communicated through gesture, rhythm, and carefully composed silence.

Music becomes the film’s primary language. The score and sound design function almost like spoken words, carrying emotional cues, inner turmoil, and unarticulated truths. Beats rise and fall where dialogue might have existed, allowing the audience to feel rather than be told. In this world, music does not decorate the narrative; it is the narrative.

What Gandhi Talks ultimately lays bare are the situations its characters are trapped in and the fragile circumstances that bring them face to face. It is in this collision between wealth and want, loss and survival that the film locates its deepest complexities, suggesting that life’s most defining confrontations often emerge not from grand design, but from cruel, accidental intersections.

Vijay Sethupathi anchors the film with a performance that is almost entirely interior. His face becomes a landscape of suppressed rage, fatigue, and quiet resistance. Without dialogue to guide us, Sethupathi relies on micro-expressions and physical restraint, reminding us why he remains one of the most intuitive actors working today.

Arvind Swami, on the other hand, brings a contrasting energy that is controlled, authoritative, yet morally porous. His character embodies institutional power, and Swami plays him with chilling understatement.

The conflict between Sethupathi and Swami is never verbalised, yet it simmers in glances and spatial tension. Their scenes together crackle precisely because nothing is said.

Aditi Rao Hydari, often cast in ornamental roles, is given something far more introspective here. Her character exists in the margins of the narrative but carries emotional weight, particularly in moments of vulnerability where silence becomes both refuge and burden.

If Gandhi Talks has a spoken language, it is A. R. Rahman’s music. The score does not merely accompany the visuals; it interprets them. Rahman understands when to swell and when to recede, allowing silence to remain intact rather than overpowering it.

The background score functions as emotional punctuation, gently nudging the audience towards introspection. It is one of Rahman’s more restrained works, and arguably one of his most effective in recent years.

Visually, the film is composed with care. Belekar favours long takes, deliberate pacing, and uncluttered frames. However, the film is also a test of patience. There are stretches where the film risks becoming too inward-looking, mistaking minimalism for depth. Not every silence lands with equal force, and some sequences feel elongated without adding new emotional information.

That said, Gandhi Talks is a film which demands an audience willing to engage actively, to interpret rather than consume. The title itself feels ironic in the best way, invoking a figure synonymous with words, speeches, and moral clarity, only to present a world where words have failed and silence is all that remains.

Gandhi Talks leaves the viewer suspended in moral ambiguity, carrying the weight of interpretation beyond the theatre. This is not a film for everyone. Viewers expecting conventional storytelling may find it alienating. But for those willing to surrender to its rhythm, Gandhi Talks offers something increasingly rare in mainstream Indian cinema: a space to think and to listen to what isn’t being said. In choosing silence, Gandhi Talks makes its loudest statement.

Film: Gandhi Talks

Director: Kishor Pandurang Belekar

Cast: Vijay Sethupathi, Arvind Swamy, Siddharth Jadhav, Aditi Rao Hydari

Rating: 3.5/5

baby-girl-review-nivin-pauly-s-latest-starts-strong-then-loses-momentum

Fri Jan 23 15:39:55 IST 2026

There was much promise in the beginning. Interesting premise. A baby goes missing. The baby's parents are 19-year-old kids. The parents of the 19-year-olds are dealing with the embarrassing information about their children, but also the ensuing police and media scrutiny and the concern for the child's well-being. Who took the kid? There is a suspicious visitor at the hospital. Much chaos, much stress, and much pain are caused to a couple of individuals who had nothing to do with it. And there's Nivin Pauly as the hospital attendant, who feels personally responsible and makes it his mission to find the baby regardless of whatever career setbacks he'll have to deal with.

First off, it's important to mention that the script comes from one of Malayalam cinema's — and among my favourites — best writing duos, Bobby and Sanjay, credited for 2011's Traffic, one of the pivotal films that contributed to the Malayalam "new gen" film movement that changed the way Malayalis looked at storytelling. They were among the writers who, along with the late director Rajesh Pillai, helped rewire our brains and inspired several aspiring filmmakers to think out of the box. That film featured several big names, aside from upcoming stars, including a pre-Premam Nivin Pauly. All the actors, big or small, played characters who were not competing for the limelight.

Helmed by Arun Varma ("Garudan"), Baby Girl, too, cannot be called a one-star movie, because there is also Abhimanyu Thilakan (the great Thilakan's grandson; Shammi Thilakan's son), Lijomol Jose, and Sangeeth Prathap. And there's, of course, the hospital setting that puts it close to Traffic territory. But, unfortunately, Baby Girl is no Traffic. I thought the film showed real promise in its first hour, with a sense of urgency that felt genuine, as the police officers get busy chasing and studying every bit of information. We get vantage points from inside the vehicles, visuals of the onlookers... a bit of the Paul Greengrass ("The Bourne Ultimatum", "The Lost Bus") school of filmmaking that got me excited for that one hour. And then something happens as the intermission point approached us.

After the initial setup, the film presents a series of rapid plot developments that become challenging to track. While everything is explained by the end, the story's effectiveness relies on our investment in the characters and their journeys, but the characters don't have any strong qualities to hook us. The progression of events feels forced, with too many surprises packed in, which can become tiresome. The sudden plot turns, and coincidences often seem artificial and occasionally even comical or confusing. At several points, it's unclear how characters move so quickly from one place to another. These inconsistencies, along with unresolved questions, make the latter half of the film forgettable. The film appears so focused on cleverness that it loses narrative coherence.

There is, however, one emotional element that worked. It has to do with Lijomol Jose's character. Without giving anything away, you realise later on that, ultimately, it's she who becomes the film's beating heart and everything else was in service of that. And Abhimanyu Thilak is quite impressive as the cop investigating the incident. It's a role tailor-made for him. It's the kind of role that often goes to someone like Indrajith Sukumaran, but I'm glad it went to Abhimanyu. I just hope he doesn't get typecast like the former.

Film: Baby Girl
Director: Arun Varma
Cast: Lijomol Jose, Nivin Pauly, Abhimanyu Thilak, Sangeeth Prathap
Rating: 2/5

border-2-review-sunny-deol-varun-dhawan-headline-this-solid-war-drama-that-largely-gets-its-patriotism-recipe-right

Fri Jan 23 15:33:57 IST 2026

29 years ago, JP Dutta's Border created waves at the box office and was lauded for its immense storytelling. Depiction of real-life war films may have become quite common in today's era but in the 1990s, Border was arguably the trendsetter. Fast forward to 2026 and it is time for Border 2, the standalone sequel that is bankrolled by JP Dutta but helmed by Anurag Singh.

The film is set in the backdrop of the 1971 India-Pakistan war and the story is told through the POVs of the four protagonist characters. Sunny Deol is the only actor from Border to be a part of Border 2 but contrary to general perception, he isn't playing the same character here. In fact, Deol's Lt Col Fateh Singh Kaler is a fictional character who has been placed in a real storyline.

However, the other three protagonists in Border 2, Major Hoshiar Singh Dahiya (Varun Dhawan), IAF legend Nirmal Jit Singh Sekhon (Diljit Dosanjh) and Lt Cdr MS Rawat (Ahan Shetty), were all real life personalities who played a vital role during the Indo-Pak war of 1971 and the operations leading up to it.

In today's political climate where nationalism tends to sell easily, it would have been easy for the makers of Border 2 to take that route, especially with the legacy of Border as solid ammunition. Singh, who has also co-written the screenplay with Sumit Arora, ensures the patriotism flavour remains at the forefront without compromising on his conviction in the narration.

Deol may be the much senior actor but all four protagonists get reasonably strong intros and sub-plots. In fact, Dhawan gets the meatiest of the introduction sequences and arguably the strongest character arc of the four. In the days leading upto the film's release, Dhawan was the target of social media trolls after the Border 2 promos were aired.

Surprisingly, Dhawan's performance is the biggest surprise package of Border 2 and he puts in a beautifully restrained performance. Deol, meanwhile, gets a role that he revels in. The fierce leader who roars (literally and figuratively) against the opposition, Deol's energy is infectious and each of his pep talks to his soldiers pack a solid punch.

Dosanjh has a relatively easier task to do but even he has a few sequences where the performance demands mastery and to his credit, the Punjabi singer-actor seals the deal. Shetty tries his best but clearly has a long way to go as a performer. The one thing in his favour is that his strong sound helps in dialogue delivery.

Border 2 isn't entirely flawless but perhaps, is unfair to expect every patriotic film to be a Dhurandhar. Also, being a war drama means that there will be predictable sub-plots and inevitability in the war sequences. Also, some of the intended humour in the flashback sequences involving Dhawan, Dosanjh and Shetty doesn't land.

Nevertheless, the film's screenplay has a strong soul. Even with the formulaic feel to the sub-plots, the earnest performances ensure that you are invested in the proceedings. The technical side, though, could have been better. In 2026, audience expect a lot better from war films and the action sequences in Border 2 have a monotonous tone to it.

At almost 200 minutes of runtime, Border 2 is also lengthy, no doubt. It could have arguably been trimmed by about 15-20 minutes, especially with a lot of songs in the first half. However, these flaws are all covered by the strong performances and Singh's conviction in storytelling. The music also works, especially the legendary Ghar Kab Aoge and Toh Chaloon

Overall, Border 2 is a solid war drama that mostly gets its patriotism recipe right.

Film: Border 2

Director: Anurag Singh

Cast: Sunny Deol, Varun Dhawan, Diljit Dosanjh, Ahan Shetty

Rating: 3.5/5

chatha-pacha-review-strong-memorable-characters-make-this-wrestling-drama-a-triumph

Fri Jan 23 15:45:17 IST 2026

Why were some of us who grew up watching WWE matches on TV so invested in them? Simple. The drama. We were initially led to believe that these people, who were unleashing mayhem on each other's flesh with not just their own bodies but also any object they could get their hands on, had real beef between each other. But then, as we matured, we realised everything was scripted. Everything was an illusion. Sarvam Maya. So, how does a Malayalam film about a group of WWE-obsessed kids who grew up to become adults who drifted apart for a long time, and eventually come together to set up WWE-inspired matches in their hometown, get us invested in it? Simple. The drama. Only this time, it's real-life drama spilling over to the drama in the arena.

For this drama to work, you need to have characters you can root for. Which was what made, for example, Khalid Rahman's Alappuzha Gymkhana, released last year, successful. The drama in Chatha Pacha is a combination of several factors: a rivalry that spans decades; a love story that resulted in one family blacklisting another; a criminal undertaking that went awry; and a little girl's affection split between two fathers — the real and the foster. Chatha Pacha is like a wrestling match that takes a while to get itself and us warmed up. And once it gets going, it’s full steam ahead. There is nothing fresh or out of the box when it comes to its early portions that establish the relationship between the three men, their mentors, and their home situation. There is, however, a slight lack of clarity in conveying the depth of their brotherhood and their parentage. Because, at one point, someone mentions that two of them are not of the same blood, but this part is never given much attention.

But, for me, these minor squibbles didn't matter after a point, because, after all, it only mattered whether the characters played by Arjun Ashokan, Roshan Mathew, and Ishan Shoukath have endearing qualities that make them worthy of rooting for. Chatha Pacha manages to get us close to them in very little time. They are all the boy-next-door types, regardless of the varying degrees of rowdyism within them. The most aggressive of the bunch is Roshan Mathew's Vetri, who has a painful backstory that eventually proves to be a chink in the armour of the bond between him and Arjun Ashokan's character Savio. I just realised one thing: When the names of a movie's lead characters come to you easily without searching for them online, that means the characters are strong enough to stay with you for a longer period.

Roshan's Vetri is built up like a character who can make things complicated for the other two men, given his volatile nature and certain unpleasant truths that, if not left buried, would only disrupt everything. This is what I meant by real-life drama spilling over. And, of course, there is drama from its principal antagonist, Cheriyan (Vishak Nair), the spoilt, flamboyant son who would do anything to make his wheelchair-bound father (Sai Kumar) proud. Cherian is someone who would rather preserve his energy as much as possible and instead gets other people to do his bidding, unless he finds it absolutely necessary to get physically involved. And there is an electrifying fight sequence involving him that's one of the film's key highlights, aside from the intense confrontations — a combination of efficient staging, lighting, editing, and composition — involving Arjun, Roshan, Ishan, and... a delightful cameo from a Malayalam megastar.

All these elements in Chatha Pacha evoke, for the 90s kid in me, the flavour of some enjoyable entertainers of that era in Malayalam cinema, such as Kottayam Kunjachan, Uppukandam Brothers, and, to a certain extent, Siddique-Lal's Godfather. I even remembered a 1998 Akshay Kumar movie, Barood, because, at a crucial point in Chatha Pacha, both Arjun and Roshan are fighting international wrestlers. With its post-intermission segments being stronger than the rest, Chatha Pacha is like that wrestling match that proves rewarding if you are patient enough to stay with it, instead of being irked with the few unremarkable and familiar bits we see early on, and a couple of attempts at forced humour. If anything, it demonstrates an impressive action hero side to some actors which hasn't been explored until now, despite them being in the industry for quite a while. I hope Chatha Pacha opens up possibilities for them to appear in more mainstream, action-driven fare.

Film: Chatha Pacha: The Ring of Rowdies

Director: Advaith Nayar

Cast: Arjun Ashokan, Roshan Mathew, Ishan Shoukath, Vishak Nair, Carmen S. Mathew

Rating: 3.5/5

cheekatilo-review-a-brooding-crime-thriller-that-asks-hard-questions-but-stumbles-at-the-end

Thu Jan 22 10:44:06 IST 2026

Set against the brooding nightscapes of Telangana, Cheekatilo positions itself at the uneasy intersection of journalism, voyeuristic crime coverage, and the long shadow cast by unresolved violence.

Headlined by Sobhita Dhulipala, the film is as much about a woman reclaiming her professional conscience as it is about hunting a predator who has slipped through the cracks of time.

Sobhita plays Sandhya, a television journalist suffocating inside the TRP-chasing machinery of prime-time news.

Her channel thrives on sensational crime stories, shrill debates, looping visuals, moral outrage packaged for easy consumption, but Sandhya is deeply uncomfortable with the way tragedy is mined for spectacle. The disconnect between what journalism should stand for and what it has become weighs heavily on her, and Cheekatilo allows this conflict to simmer rather than explode into instant rebellion.

Sandhya’s turning point comes when she decides to step away from studio lights and launch her own true-crime podcast, choosing long-form storytelling over sound bites. What begins as an attempt to reclaim narrative depth soon pulls her into a chilling pattern of murders that have haunted the region for decades.

At the centre of the narrative is a serial killer who operates under the cover of darkness, raping and murdering his victims with ritualistic precision.

Each crime scene carries a disturbing signature: jasmine flowers placed near female victims, cowbells left near male victims, especially in cases involving couples. The symbolism is unsettling, rooted in both intimacy and rural familiarity, and the film uses these motifs to create a sense of creeping dread rather than shock-driven horror.

This is not a killer in a hurry. He has been active for years, possibly decades, an uncomfortable reminder of how systems fail when crimes target the marginal. As Sandhya digs deeper, driven by instinct and anger rather than official sanction, especially triggered by the gruesome murder of her friend Bobby and her boyfriend, Cheekatilo becomes a cat-and-mouse game between a woman determined to listen to buried stories and a man who has survived by staying invisible.

Sobhita’s Sandhya is fearless but not reckless; she is curious, stubborn, and quietly defiant. Her investigation is less about heroism and more about accountability: Who gets to tell these stories? Who benefits from fear? And why do some crimes remain conveniently unsolved, spoken of only in whispers after dark?

Cheekatilo unfolds slowly, allowing its silences to speak, its nights to stretch, and its questions to linger, pulling Sandhya, and the viewer, deeper into the darkness she is determined to illuminate.

Several of the women Sandhya tracks down are not just grieving relatives but survivors, women the killer raped and left for dead, assuming they would not live to tell the tale. They did. Cheekatilo treats their survival with restraint, avoiding melodrama while underlining the courage it takes for them to speak up in a society that still places the burden of shame squarely on the woman. Two such survivors eventually agree to come forward as key witnesses, a crucial turning point in the investigation and a reminder that justice often moves forward only when the silenced decide to reclaim their voices.

It is through these testimonies that Sandhya truly facilitates the investigation, doing the groundwork the police either could not or would not do for years. The film subtly critiques institutional apathy, showing how crimes against women slip into cold files until someone refuses to let them remain there.

Sandhya’s role is not that of a conventional crime-solving hero; she is persistent, vulnerable, and driven by a sense of moral urgency rather than bravado.

To give away the suspense would do the film a disservice, and Cheekatilo largely succeeds in maintaining tension. From its opening stretch, the film is gripping and deeply absorbing, pulling the viewer into its nocturnal world of fear, patterns, and unanswered questions. The setting, the recurring symbols of jasmine flowers and cowbells, and the quiet dread of the killer’s presence lend the narrative an unsettling texture.

However, where Cheekatilo falters is in its final act. After investing carefully in mood, character, and investigation, the film suddenly begins to feel rushed and uneven, as though the makers realised too late that they were running out of time.

Threads that deserved space are hurriedly tied up; revelations arrive without the emotional or narrative weight they warrant.

The climax, in particular, feels lame and unoriginal, diluting the impact of what had otherwise been a promising, layered thriller.

That disappointment stings because much of what precedes it works. Sobhita Dhulipala delivers a controlled, credible performance, anchoring the film with quiet intensity. Her Sandhya is not loud, not flashy but resolute. The film’s critique of media sensationalism, social conservatism, and gendered violence is timely and mostly effective.

Despite its flaws, Cheekatilo is not a bad watch. It may stumble at the finish line, but it is worth engaging with, especially for viewers interested in crime narratives that attempt to look beyond shock value and ask harder questions about silence, survival, and who gets heard after dark.

happy-patel-khatarnak-jasoos-vir-das-injects-some-fresh-blood-into-the-spy-comedy-genre

Fri Jan 16 18:46:14 IST 2026

In what new direction can one take the spy comedy genre — a genre that has so many entries, from different countries, that it now seems an impossible — or near-impossible — task to pull off one? Vir Das shows, with his directorial debut, that the genre still remains a fertile ground for never-before-seen gags. There is a lot to laugh at in Happy Patel: Khatarnak Jasoos, but being a movie that relies on cringe comedy, there are many instances that land and some that don't. But when it works, it really works.

It would be difficult to come up with comparison points for Happy Patel because, while featuring some familiar elements, it has a singular identity. It's not exactly Borat, but it's not Johnny English either. Because Vir Das is Vir Das, not Sacha Baron Cohen or Rowan Atkinson. He is basically playing an Indian guy from Britain who has to pretend to be an "Indian" in Goa to pull off a rescue operation. It throws a lot of awkward humour jokes at you with admirable daring, perhaps with the hope that at least some of them would hit the spot. And they do indeed, at times.

But the ones I loved most involve wordplay and mannerism-based. Vir Das's 'Happy' is an aspiring spy who failed the MI7 exam "seven times". He also happens to be a straight man with slightly effeminate traits, perhaps because he was brought up by two gay men. Speaking of, gay jokes are aplenty in this movie, but they never verge on homophobic. Of course, some of them are unfunny simply because they are bland, not because they are offensive. And, yes, it doesn't shy away from fart and puke jokes either. Again, not all of it works.

One of the areas where it scores highly is the manner in which it mines jokes out of Das's British accent-tinted Hindi diction. It's even funnier when they show the exact words and lines as "English" subtitles rather than showing their meanings. It goes without saying that a translation is essential to realise how some of the most common Hindi words can be slightly tweaked to mean something else while fitting comfortably with the ideas that Das and his team have in mind. The one where chidiya is replaced with ch***ya, for example.

Its self-aware/meta nature also provides enough opportunities for laugh-out-loud humour. It's not scared to have some of its character inform you that "the movie you're about to see will be in Hindi" when Das is sent from UK to India to spy on a female Goan don who is still seeking vengeance for the death of her father (you'll be shocked to know who plays him!) at the hands of Happy's dad...s.

There's also time for some sweet-cute romance between Happy and Mithila Palkar's character Rupa. There's a dance sequence that earns points for its innovative choreography, built around a joke about a woman slapping a man. And it helps that both Das and Palkar have an innate charm and endearing quality that automatically render them a lovely pair. And Imran Khan gets a cameo appearance in a hilarious fight sequence where Das lets the former get all the attention. In short, Happy Patel is a good (if not great) time at the movies, if you gel with comedies like The Party (with Peter Sellers), The Naked Gun, and, of course, anything from Rush Hour to Delhi Belly to the Seth Rogen brand of humour.

Film: Happy Patel: Khatarnak Jasoos
Director: Vir Das, Kavi Shastri
Cast: Vir Das, Mithila Palkar, Sharib Hashmi, Mona Singh
Rating: 3/5

made-in-korea-review-the-classiest-most-sophisticated-korean-thriller-series-streaming-currently

Fri Jan 16 17:58:09 IST 2026

It's great to see a filmmaker who has so far managed to maintain a distinct style in his filmography getting the freedom to do the same in a longer format. Korean thriller master Woo Min-ho's obsession with examining the rot at the core of immense power structures continues with Made in Korea, his first foray into the web series space. As someone who has been following his career, I'm happy to report that it's the classiest, most sophisticated undertaking in the streaming space I've seen since what David Fincher did with Mindhunter and Steve Zaillian did with Ripley.

The six-episode series, streaming on Disney+, Hotstar, and Hulu, sees Woo Min-ho returning to the same territory of his 2020 espionage thriller The Man Standing Next — against the backdrop of the activities of the KCIA (the Korean intelligence entity that, it is said, is more ruthless than its American counterpart) in the 1970s. Since this happens to be a tumultuous time in Korean history, Min-ho's detail-rich storytelling approach requires one to keep up with the basics, if you're into this particular area, of what transpired during that time and how far the tentacles of a nefarious organisation and its individuals extended. Made in Korea should appeal to those who love thriller stories centred on the mind games between two powerful characters, each with their own unique personalities and an unconventional way of doing things.

In Made in Korea, the action revolves around an influential KCIA agent, Baek Ki-tae (Hyun Bin), who is introduced in episode 1 in the middle of an aircraft hijack. Min-ho has a purpose behind introducing the character this way — to give us a sense of what kind of man Ki-tae is and the number of variables operating behind the scenes. It's only towards the end of this episode that we are introduced to Jang Geon-young (Jung Woo-sung), a determined prosecutor who slowly proves to be a perfect sparring partner for Ki-tae. But here, the focus is more on brains than brawn. Anyone familiar with Min-ho's films would know that he is more interested in "action" through behaviour, mannerisms, and character development than big-scale spectacle and pyrotechnics.

But that's not to say there's no "spectacle" at all. Min-ho has always been one who puts a lot of effort into the canvas of his films, be it in his 2015 political thriller Inside Men (which dug into the vast network involving corrupt journalists, gangsters and government) or The Drug King (which told the story of the rise and fall of a narcotics kingpin in the 1970s) or his most recent Harbin (which chronicled the intense journey of Korean independence acitivist Ah Jung-geun). His characters dress sharp, and move around as if they're James Bond or Alain Delon in Le Samourai (who gets a mention in the show a couple of times).

With his cinematographers Kim Tae-sung and Lee Young-woo, and editor Jung Ji-eun, Min-ho paints an atmospheric landscape thick with peril. Min-ho is a filmmaker who understands the importance of lighting, contrast, and composition in the same way that some of the old masters who operated in the genre. There are numerous immersive frames in Made in Korea that are worthy of being displayed on a wall, to pore over every detail.

I've been staying away from multi-episode shows lately, because aside from the limited series format, I've grown weary of waiting for shows that take a lot of time between seasons. But when one of my favourite Korean filmmakers comes up with something that's right up my alley, how can I not make an exception? A second season of Made in Korea was already greenlit before the premiere of Season 1, and I wouldn't mind doing a rewatch before the next chapter arrives. I hope it arrives soon enough.

Series: Made in Korea
Director: Woo Min-ho
Cast: Jung Woo-sung, Hyun Bin, Woo Do-hwan, Cho Yeo-jeong
Rating: 5/5

vaa-vaathiyaar-review-a-laidback-karthi-anchors-this-quirky-escapist-fare-that-has-more-pluses-than-minuses

Wed Jan 14 16:03:46 IST 2026

A short while into Nalan Kumarasamy's latest film, I began wondering whether the world of Ramu (Karthi) appears a certain way because the director of Soodhu Kavvum and Kadhalum Kadanthu Pogum imagined it that way or because Ramu sees the world that way. After all, he happens to be a huge movie buff — and an MGR fan to boot. The answer was right there. I only had to remind myself that I'm watching a film made by Nalan Kumarasamy, the kind of filmmaker who dares to go outside the box even when working within a mainstream template, the kind of filmmaker who comes from the same maverick gang that comprises Mysskin, Thiagarajan Kumararaja, and other kindred spirits. We also have to remind ourselves that Kumarasamy was one of the co-writers of Super Deluxe (one of the best Tamil films from the last decade). That film, too, had a certain look and vibe. While not as dark, Vaa Vaathiyaar comes with its own unique personality.

Here's a filmmaker with an ability rare among those working in Indian cinema today. The ability to not reveal all the tricks in one go. The ability to give our imagination a workout. I'm not implying that Vaa Vaathiyaar is The Matrix (although there is a brief nod to The Matrix Reloaded) or that it's rocket science. No. I'm just saying that Vaa Vaathiyaar believes in not telling you right away what genre it belongs to. The teaser did not give us any hint, and in this day and age, when the promo materials give away most of the movie, what Kumarasamy and team did with Vaa Vaathiyaar is something special. So I won’t tell you, in this review, what the film is about.

I can, however, tell you how I felt about it.

To start off, it's nice to see Karthi again in a role that plays to his strengths. I can tell you that he plays a cop, but he is neither playing the same guy from Theeran Adhigaaram Ondru nor Siruthai (although you can see a bit of that mischief here, too). This character, Ramu, is designed to put us completely at ease. His demeanour, body language, and facial expressions say, "Please, make yourself feel at home..." even when going through challenging times. I could say the same about Kumarasamy's filmmaking approach here. It's not that no "bad" event ever happens in it — a fair amount of blood gets spilled here and there — but in terms of mood it leans more towards Soodhu Kavvum than Kadhalum Kadanthu Pogum.

There's also the sense that Kumarasamy wanted to go lighter on the material than he did with his last films. This is reflected in the manner he has treated the songs (stunning colours, imaginative sets), the fight sequences (variations of fantasy and reality), and the overall warm, comic-book texture applied. Cinematic with a capital C.

Yes, Vaa Vaathiyaar is Kumarasamy's most mainstream work yet, but this is not the work of a "compromised" or "diluted" filmmaker known so far for his singular vision. It still looks like a Nalan Kumarasamy film, not the work of someone else. It takes place in a certain kind of reality where the hospitals don't look depressing as they do in real life — they have warm and inviting colours and lighting. The same applies to the look of the police station and the neighbourhood in which Ramu lives. The gritty aesthetic is not what Kumarasamy is going for.

And even when Kumarasamy goes full commercial, he doesn't go overboard or get too self-indulgent. When Karthi and Krithi Shetty (she is a part YouTuber/part Oracle blessed with the abilities of Samuel L. Jackson's character from M. Night Shyamalan's Unbreakable) break into a song and dance, the film lets you know that the entire sequence is playing out in their heads, unlike a recent "pan-Indian" Telugu biggie that randomly threw in songs and dances with no rhyme or reason.

The ending suggests that Kumarasamy may have plans for more adventures. I'm not sure if it's a wise move, because Vaa Vaathiyaar is the sort of effort that may not work with the majority of audiences. You have to be a bit twisted/quirky to enjoy it. There are parts in Vaa Vaathiyaar that didn't quite work for me, but that would make up, maybe, 20 per cent of the whole thing. If Vaa Vaathiyaar ends up doing well at the box office, perhaps it would be a good idea to go ahead with a sequel. I'd rather see the next chapter of a Nalan Kumarasamy film than of someone else’s.

Film: Vaa Vaathiyaar

Director: Nalan Kumarasamy

Cast: Karthi, Krithi Shetty, Rajkiran, Sathyaraj

Rating: 3.5/5

parasakthi-review-rousing-political-thriller-marred-by-a-strong-sense-of-familiarity

Sat Jan 10 15:58:24 IST 2026

Trains and train stations play a major role in Sudha Kongara's new film Parasakthi. They act as markers for crucial events in the storytelling. Sudha opens the film with an intense train fight between two men that, in another director's movie, would have been the climax. But it makes sense why Sudha does this in Parasakthi. It's a crucial event that turns out traumatic for its hero, Chezhiyan (Sivakarthikeyan). An event that would compel him to choose a path of non-violence. An event that feels like the climax and beginning at once. It would take another traumatic event at a train station, which recalls the former event, to bring out a side of Chezhiyan that remained dormant between the two events. A train and a train station would figure in the film's explosive (literally!) scenes, too.

Oddly enough, though, the impact of the three aforementioned sequences involves characters who are not related to Chezhiyan by blood, but make the biggest impression. It makes one wonder whether the other characters, such as Chinna (played by Atharva) or Ratnamala (Sreeleela), written as his loved ones, were really necessary to take this story forward, since their presence doesn't bring much in terms of emotional contribution. Or perhaps better casting would've worked. Or better writing?

There's a sense of inconsistency in the writing of the three characters and their dynamics with each other. Is Sreeleela's character supposed to be a love interest or a friend? Why does she suddenly go from the mischievous, playful, "dumbo" girl in the film's early portions to a mature, nerdy, scientist type in the film's third act? The evolution doesn't look organic. And Atharva feels just like an over-enthusiastic character from a Mani Ratnam film whose only notable quality is that he is... over-enthusiastic. Ravi Mohan's villainous turn is nothing to write home about either. It's hard to get fully invested in such characters who feel two-dimensional rather than three-dimensional. Furthermore, the entire film, despite being competently staged (with a notable contribution from veteran cinematographer Ravi K. Chandran), doesn't bring anything new to the table.

There's the nagging feeling that we have seen situations like these before, and I don't mean the central conflict, the 1965 anti-Hindi agitation that took place in Tamil Nadu. In fact, it's developments pertaining to this event that keeps the film going through moments where it experiences an energy dip. Of course, the subject draws attention to the political affiliation of the film's backers but Parasakthi cannot be simply dimissed as another "propaganda" film because it’s fighting for a healthy, sensible cause. And despite the fictionalised cinematic plot construction around one of the most significant events in not just Tamil Nadu (featuring some key political figures not mentioned by name) but in Indian history, Sudha's film takes on the duty of issuing a clarion call for resisting unwanted intrusion into our integrity, identity, and endeavours for progress. It's a film that clarifies, through its characters, that it's not against Hindi or those who speak it, but against its imposition of it. It rightly brings up the point that the other state wouldn't like it if this state tried to impose its language on them.

Parasakthi doesn't exactly have one of Sivakarthikeyan's finest performances, but the actor doesn't do a bad job either. He has done better earlier, though. Also, why does every Sivakarthikeyan film require a song-and-dance sequence? Is it so mandatory that the filmmaker doesn't have any say in it? Or is it that Sivakarthikeyan's fans want to see him do it in every film? Because Parasakthi is one of those films that could've been a smoother film without these unnecessary commercial cinema ingredients that act as speed-breakers.

I imagine Parasakthi is the kind of film that Sudha would've made with Rajinikanth if she were a filmmaker in the 1980s or 1990s. I say this because at one point in the film, Sivakarthikeyan is framed as a silhouette against the sun, as Mani Ratnam did with Rajini in Thalapathy. It's not just Thalapathy that came to mind while watching this, but also Priyadarshan's Kaalapani, but that has more to do with the dilemma of characters forced to work in the company of individuals whose ideologies are the complete opposite of theirs. Parasakthi works well as a film that evokes a strong revolutionary spirit — it has, indeed, a few "high" moments that make you want to cheer, and these include a cameo from a popular Malayalam actor — but is it the kind of film that's memorable enough to warrant a rewatch? I didn't think so.

Film: Parasakthi

Director: Sudha Kongara

Cast: Sivakarthikeyan, Ravi Mohan, Sreeleela, Atharva

Rating: 3/5

the-raja-saab-review-did-a-teenager-come-up-with-this-idea

Fri Jan 09 17:40:07 IST 2026

Instagram is a place that can make someone feel horny one second and sad for a puppy the next, and then generate horny thoughts a second after that. Why am I talking about Instagram? Because that's how this new movie, starring Prabhas, behaves. The RajaSaab is apparently a "horror-comedy-fantasy" but the only horror scenario I can imagine here is that the writer-director of this movie got possessed by a male teenager who has been watching way too many Instagram reels — the ones that alternatively feature seductive women, grandmother sentiments, melodramatic teleserial clips, cringe-inducing jokes, embarrassing dance sequences and male posturing, and stunning visual effects — and combine them all into a "fantasy" that does nothing but assault the senses of the audiences upon whom it is unleashed.

Prabhas is introduced with a kerchief covering his face. There are so many instances in this movie that made me wish I had covered my face the same way, but then it would be an injustice to one's profession as a film critic if a review were written after watching three hours (which feels like thirty hours) of what can best be described as a "torture chamber drama" with half-lidded eyes. Because no amount of stunning locations, costumes, beautiful women, and impromptu songs (with cringe-inducing dance moves that wouldn't look good even on Chiranjeevi) can help smooth out all the numerous rough edges.

And what were the women who signed up for this thinking before they signed up for it? As for Prabhas, well, I hope Sandeep Reddy Vanga redeems him in Spirit. I'm not a fan of the 'Rebel Star', but at least Rajamouli didn't make him look like a complete joke. Who is to blame for this — the actor or the filmmaker who made him perform this way?

Here's the thing. It's not that The RajaSaab doesn't even have at least one interesting idea at its core. It does, and they concern the portions involving Prabhas and Sanjay Dutt. Here's a supernatural antagonist (played by Dutt, of course) who is said to be so many things. He is described as someone who, before his death, was not just a sorcerer but also a scientist, hypnotist, and many other things. He has an interesting backstory. He resides in a haunted mansion that presents enough opportunities for the visual effects team, the art and costume departments, editors, colourists and everyone involved to conjure up some of the most spectacular images with the right combination of colours, lights, sound, smoke, and make-up effects.

Unfortunately, The RajaSaab is so confused about what it wants to do and when to do it that everything else — the few positive aspects — feels like a wasted effort.

Thaman's music, for instance, is so non-stop and aggressively loud that I counted maybe one or two instances that allowed a moment of quietness (the Boman Irani scenes). A loud background score is supposed to keep one awake. But when the score happens to be so familiar and boring, one struggles to keep awake. Actually, you will not miss anything even if you doze off. Yeah, this is one of those movies.

I hope at least the dubbing artists (Malayalam) had fun. It felt like they did. Because after two cancelled shows — PVR screened the Telugu version without subtitles, another theatre didn’t get the Malayalam version, followed by waiting for a third screen that played the Malayalam version after a short gap — I sure did not have a good day at the movies with this one.

Film: The RajaSaab
Director: Maruthi
Cast: Prabhas, Sanjay Dutt, Malavika Mohanan, Niddhi Agerwal, Riddhi Kumar
Rating: 1/5

ikkis-review-sriram-raghavan-s-anti-war-film-gets-its-priorities-straight-and-is-one-of-his-best

Thu Jan 01 18:34:41 IST 2026

There is a scene in Ikkis where Lt. Arun Khetarpal (a suitably enthusiastic and driven Agastya Nanda) is lovingly admiring the poster of the 1969 war movie The Bridge at Remagen, and his girlfriend Kiran (Simar Bhatia) asks, "You love war movies, do you?" Ikkis demonstrates that its maker, Sriram Raghavan, also loves war movies. He understands what makes the great war movies... great. He understands that when you're making a men-on-a-mission movie, it's most important to focus on the qualities of the men — their individual personalities, what makes them tick, what their goals are, their guilt, regrets...

Like the best of the men-on-a-mission movies set against the backdrop of a major battle or tumultuous historical event, such as The Guns of the Navarone, The Dirty Dozen, or even The Great Escape, Ikkis takes us up close to its lead characters, spending the necessary time to get us acquainted with them, enough to get us invested in their fates.

But here's another brilliant thing that Raghavan does with Ikkis that I didn't expect to see going in. Before getting into it, I want to be honest here: I was a bit sceptical, initially, at the thought of the filmmaker behind Johnny Gaddar, Andhadhun, and Merry Christmas making a war movie at a time when there are so many of them being made, across various eras in Indian history, with no standout qualities whatsoever — most of them extremely aggressive and characterised by a fervently jingoistic behaviour. There's nothing wrong with making a patriotic movie — any war movie would feel empty and lifeless if it were unpatriotic — but Ikkis demonstrates how you can do it beautifully.

It knows that you can make a war movie that respects its heroes, salutes their valour and sacrifices, without taking unnecessary detours, without passing off fiction as truth, without excessive battle cries... basically, without giving audiences a headache. The casting is spot on, across the board, with Sikandar Kher, as Arun's superior, bringing just the right measure of comic respite when he is not busy taunting the younglings.

Raghavan and his writing team take a non-linear approach, with events from 1971 and 2001 — before and after the demise of Arun Khetarpal — running concurrently. The idea here is prioritising humanity, harmony, and brotherhood above politics and religion, reinforced by the presence of the dynamic between one character who is the heart and soul of Ikkis, ML Khetarpal (Dharmendra), and Brigadier Nisar (Jaideep Ahlawat).

ALSO READ | Famagusta: Which tank did 'Ikkis' hero Arun Khetarpal use to destroy Pakistani Patton tanks in Basantar? 5 Centurion MBT facts

This is a film that's running through the perspective of these two characters, aside from Arun's. The fact that Arun's father hailed from Pakistan's Sargodha and lived there before the Partition adds an extremely poignant dimension to the storytelling. The 2001 Pakistan portions that see ML Khetarpal visiting Nisar and his family are some of the most moving portions from Ikkis.

Ikkis is a fitting swan song for Dharmendra, who imbues his character with a strong sense of history and ethos. The filmmaking also benefits from the manner in which it dispenses certain bits of information. Raghavan believes that some "missing" developments are more impactful when revealed at a much later time, a belief shared by Ahlawat's Nisar, a character whose significance to the story is a crucial "plot twist" revealed in due time, suitably heightening the emotional weight by the time we get to the finale.

Raghavan's filmmaking is also a delight for cinephiles who are sticklers for details and prefer their war movies with a noticeable degree of inventiveness. Aside from the multiple timelines giving the film a slightly Dunkirk-esque quality, we get some moving transitions with the aid of Raghavan's editor, Monisha R. Baldawa. The sequence where Arun enters Pakistan and remarks that "everything looks just the same," and the film cuts to the 2001 timeline with his father having a lovely time with Nisar's family and friends in Pakistan. The sequence where Arun's father tells Nisar about a piece of his father's binocular that he hid in the bark of a tree still resting at his former home, followed by Nisar peering into the lens, and the film cuts to the extreme close-up of Arun's eyes reflecting a burning tank — a shot reminiscent of the opening of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner. Or how about a radio playing an old song next to a lonely dead soldier, as though the machine was singing the eulogy for him because there was no one else to do that for him?

ALSO READ | Who was Arun Khetarpal? ‘Ikkis’ is based on real-life story of ‘Battle of Basantar’ hero

Credits also to cinematographer Anil Mehta for stripping the battle sequences of unnecessary glamour and instead opting for a straightforward approach — an effective combination of clear geography, coherent action, and neatly rendered visual effects. The focus is more on realistic mood and atmosphere than carnage (rarely depicted in slow motion, and for good reason). Ikkis, in a nutshell, has some of the best qualities of Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket (unglamorous action) and Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan (strong emotional quotient). It's one of the best anti-war films ever made. I shouldn't have doubted Sriram Raghavan.

Film: Ikkis
Director: Sriram Raghavan
Cast: Agastya Nanda, Dharmendra, Sikandar Kher, Aryan Pushkar, Simar Bhatia
Rating: 4/5

sarvam-maya-review-nivin-pauly-returns-with-loads-of-charm-in-this-perfect-holiday-movie

Thu Dec 25 15:43:14 IST 2025

"Horror comedy" would not be the right description for Akhil Sathyan's latest feature, Sarvam Maya, his second after the excellent Pachuvum Adbutha Vilakkum. "Fantasy" would be more apt. Not to give anything away, but Akhil's idea of a ghost perfectly aligns with the brand of popular feel-good cinema his father, Sathyan Anthikad, has always been associated with (many of which were penned by the late Sreenivasan). Sarvam Maya is a fresh take on the ghost-as-angel story. This is not the first example of its kind — the list runs the gamut from Casper the Friendly Ghost to Always to Chamatkar to Paheli.

Sarvam Maya attempts, for a change, a Christmas movie where the protagonist isn't a Christian. The ghost, however, is. Now imagine some of the elements in It's a Wonderful Life, The Bishop's Wife, and Malayalam's own Aayushkalam and Pappan Priyapetta Pappan, and what we get is a wholesome entertainer that couldn't have found a more auspicious time of the year to release.

Sarvam Maya is loaded with feel-good vibes. It's not for someone seeking a dark and gritty movie where the protagonist grapples with the effects of a major traumatic event or conflict. No. There are other directors who are experts at that sort of cinema. Akhil Sathyan is not making that kind of movie. Yes, the protagonist has experienced a painful past event, but it’s not the extremely heavy sort. If you go in expecting the kind of cinema made by the same man who made Paachuvum Athbudha Vilakkum (starring Fahadh Faasil), you are most likely to come away feeling pleased.

The writing is not exactly "masterpiece" material, but it's undoubtedly one designed to make the viewer feel completely at ease — despite the ghostly presence (aptly cast) — and, maybe, make them love themselves in case they don't, or make them love themselves even more if they already do. There is a line in Sarvam Maya about just this from Janardhanan — about finding life with a difficult relative easier if you love yourself more than they do you.

In another scene, Nivin Pauly is about to appear for an audition with a famed music composer from Mumbai — a meeting arranged by a friend and music producer (played by Anand Ekarshi, the award-winning maker of the brilliant Aattam). The walls of the latter's dining hall are adorned with the posters of the recent movies made by not just Akhil but also of his twin brother Anoop ('Varane Avashyamundu") and his father's ("Njan Prakashan"). It feels like an affirmation and assertion of the kind of feel-good filmmaking both father and sons are known for — they are basically the Malayalam cinema equivalents of George Cukor, Ernst Lubitsch and Frank Capra. While not all their films were feel-good dramas, whenever they made one (and they made several), it always came with a magical touch unmatched by any other filmmaker. Sathyan Anthikad has it, and Sarvam Maya happens to be a film that Akhil can be proud of. It's the perfect holiday movie.

As for Nivin Pauly, 2025 seems to be a great year for the actor. I find it interesting that he released two projects towards the end of the year, the other being his first web series, Pharma. Both turned out to be stories that plays to his strengths as an actor. Unlike Pharma, however, Sarvam Maya presents Nivin in a most idealistic manner — the quintessential nice guy, who is even told the same by one character. And with a feminine-sounding character name like, Prabhendhu A.K.A. 'Indhu', it occasionally becomes fodder for a small degree of comic confusion.

If you're wondering if this is the side of Nivin Pauly — the endearing, extremely likeable, and funny common man, without overdoing it — that most of his fans have been waiting to see him return to, then, a resounding YES! Expect a few Premam references, aside from a lovely cameo from its director, Alphonse Puthren. That pav bhaji scene was gold, leaving everyone in the theatre in splits.

Prabhendhu is not a complicated character. His dilemma is simple: he is an atheist who hails from a devout, upper-caste Hindu family who isn't keen about becoming a priest performing rituals at other people's homes — and getting handsomely paid for it, too. (Aju Varghese plays his best friend and 'employer' who evokes the early comedy roles of Innocent and Jagathy). Prabhendhu wants to be a musician. But then, again, the primary focus point of Sarvam Maya isn't whether he'll make it as a musician or not. The narrative's primary driving force and emotional core is the bond between two individuals who belong to the opposite sides of existence.

The pursuit of closure, processing loss and grief, and coming to terms with unfulfilled dreams are among the ideas explored. There is also love, but, like in his dad's recent Hridayapoorvam (Mohanlal and Malavika Mohanan), based on Akhil's concept, it doesn't take a predictable route and instead opts for a stronger, more poignant resolution.

Film: Sarvam Maya

Director: Akhil Sathyan

Cast: Nivin Pauly, Riya Shibu, Aju Varghese, Ragunath Paleri, Janardhanan, Preity Mukundhan

Rating: 4/5

mrs-deshpande-review-madhuri-dixit-s-grey-turn-can-t-rescue-this-dated-crime-thriller

Sat Dec 20 16:41:07 IST 2025

There’s always a certain anticipation when Madhuri Dixit returns to the screen. That carries over to Mrs Deshpande, her latest outing — a six-part series by Nagesh Kukunoor, streaming on JioHotstar. Cast against type, Dixit steps into territory she has rarely explored, her trademark smile taking on a menacing edge. She plays Mrs Deshpande, a convicted serial killer responsible for eight murders. Yet, in the end, this crime-thriller boils down to just that – a show content with presenting Dixit in shades of grey.

A remake of the French series La Mante (2017), Mrs Deshpande is absurd almost from the start. It opens with a young Bollywood actor ordering “two Russians” over the phone before heading off to do drugs —-only to be murdered soon after, in a manner identical to a string of killings from 25 years ago. Two more murders follow in a similarly staged fashion, prompting commissioner Arun Khatri (an exceedingly stoic Priyanshu Chatterjee) to bring back Seema Deshpande (Dixit) to help track the serial killer now on the loose. The logic? Why not bring in the original to catch the copycat?

Deshpande agrees but only on one condition – that the probe must be led by an officer, Tejas Phadke (Siddharth Chandekar), her estranged son, who doesn’t remember her.

Even for a work of fiction, the premise is difficult to stomach. Why the Mumbai Police would need the help of a serial killer, convicted to life imprisonment, to catch another murderer is never convincingly justified. What makes matters worse are the scenarios staged around this implausible logic.

At one point, Deshpande appears to abet a suicide while under police watch, with no consequences. In another instance, she drugs the officers assigned to guard her and injures one of them in a manner eerily similar to her own killings. And yet, the Mumbai Police continues to place its trust in her.

Eventually, it becomes hard to tell whether the series is invested in Deshpande’s intelligence or in testing the audience’s patience.

For a crime thriller, Mrs Deshpande generates little urgency in finding who the copycat killer is. Instead, it is more invested in framing Deshpande as a vigilante criminal — one who targets only bad people, as if it never fully trusts that the audience would be able to accept Dixit in that light.

Female rage could have been an interesting territory to explore. But the series never probes Deshpande’s psyche with real depth, flattening her violence into a familiar tale of broken people and moral binaries, stripping her actions of complexity.

The writing is never as complex as it believes itself to be. The dialogues, in fact, are laughably flat. Many of the scenarios feel eerily familiar, like what we’ve long witnessed on shows like CID or Crime Patrol, only that those managed to generate far more interest.

“You were right, Tejas. I shouldn’t have trusted her,” the commissioner admits at one point, prompting only one response: exactly.

Much of the show rests on Dixit, who remains mysterious but never quite terrifying enough for a serial killer. There is little real menace in her presence; in fact, she is almost too nice to inhabit a character meant to inspire fear convincingly. And it’s a miss — particularly because an actor of her calibre is finally given a markedly different character to portray, one that could have been compelling, but ends up being a missed opportunity.

As for the actors, the performances are uniformly flat, as if mirroring the writing itself.

In the end, Mrs Deshpande is easily skippable. And if you’re watching it for Dixit alone, it is likely to test both your patience and your intelligence more than once.

Film: Mrs Deshpande

Director: Nagesh Kukunoor

Cast: Madhuri Dixit, Kenneth Desai, Umakant Patil, Pradeep Velankar, Hardik Soni

Rating: 1.5/5

avatar-fire-ash-review-one-spectacular-battle-sequence-aside-james-cameron-s-latest-is-a-tiresome-exercise

Fri Dec 19 17:08:26 IST 2025

If it wasn't already obvious, James Cameron once again shows, with Avatar: Fire & Ash, how much he loves the colour blue — aside from the idea of being in close proximity to water and exploring its deepest depths to seek whatever invisible or unfathomable magic exists in that otherworldly realm. There's a long stretch in the early portions where Jake Scully's (Sam Worthington) children spend a lot of time in the water with the friendly aquatic creatures, Ilu. There are shots where various shades of blues — of the Na'vi children's skin (blue-purple), the water (bright blue), and the Ilu design (turquoise, aqua, and lighter blue) — merge to create a near-hallucinatory effect. The next stunning sequence is a huge battle — a glorious combination of scenes featuring cold blue tones and intense, fiery oranges. But it takes a little over three hours to get there. Everything else that comes in between is just plain underwhelming.

What Cameron wants to say seems more interesting than the manner in which he has executed it. There's the nagging sense that sincerity and emotion are being forced out of the characters and the actors playing them. Cameron is a great visualist — a quality I'll always admire him for — more than a good screenwriter (he's a good screenwriter in terms of writing vivid imagery; in fact, unparalleled). However, the Avatar titles have more than one writer involved. Their writing often ends up creating the illusion of, say, a high-intensity drama rather than working hard to transport it straight to the heart. I'm also beginning to suspect, after three Avatar movies, that the design of the Na'vi facial features is a key reason for the emotional disconnect. They don't look like us! But with this kind of writing, I doubt even setting the story on Earth would have helped. Perhaps it would've made things even worse.

Fire & Ash is The Matrix Revolutions of the trilogy. Wait, that wouldn't be right, because the Keanu Reeves film had more interesting things going on in it (especially upon revisits) than whatever Cameron thought was profound in his material for Fire & Ash. Perhaps, the third Mad Max movie, Beyond Thunderdome, would be a more fitting comparison. It's my least favourite Mad Max movie, because it spends a lot of time, if I remember correctly, with Max and his interactions with a cult comprising children, until we get to the goods. In Fire & Ash children take more precedence, unlike in the last two films. And it makes sense because it's only a natural continuation of the events in The Way of Water, which ended on a tragic note.

Fire & Ash picks up shortly after its predecessor, catching the Jake Scully family in mourning. The loss of one child is expected to be compensated for in the strengthening bonds of the other children. So, writing long sequences with the children might've made perfect sense from Cameron's perspective, but they severely affect the narrative rhythm. There's another reason why I bring up Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Varang, the female villain in Fire & Ash, played by Oona Chaplin, reminded me of Tina Turner's 'Aunty Entity' in the George Miller film.

But here's the major problem. Neither of these characters nor their interactions fails to generate any kind of emotional involvement. It's evident that Cameron is trying to tell, first and foremost, a very personal family story involving sons and fathers, mothers and daughters, siblings and the ever-growing relationship with the flora and fauna, not to mention their deity Eywa, the planet-wide, interconnected consciousness that's the fantastical Avatar-equivalent of the 'Force' in the Star Wars saga. Fire & Ash finds Cameron further exploring the complicated dynamic between the Avatar-upgraded Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang) and his son Spider (Jack Champion).

Complications also arise from Neytiri's (Zoe Saldana) refusal to accept Spider as a possible replacement for their lost son. Later, a crucial moment between Jake and Spider reveals strong biblical undertones. However, none of these come together well in the same way as that spectacular battle sequence finale. Besides, some repetitive ideas from the previous Avatar movies (as well as Cameron's earlier work) contribute to the whole enterprise running out of steam. Things get slightly exhausting, and one begins to wish that Cameron would attempt a completely original, different concept next time around.

The first time I saw the 2009 Avatar, it left me a bit depressed for a good reason. It was so immersive — despite the wafer-thin plot that's a combination of familiar stories explored before in far better films — that the idea of confronting "returning" to Earth right after filled me with some dread. So, what did I do? I saw it three more times, on the big screen, in 3D. The second one, while not completely remarkable in terms of overall storytelling, offered a fair amount of interesting world-building and significant visual pleasures that made me consider a rewatch — in fact, I ended up seeing it thrice. The third one is... well, I'm unsure I would revisit it even once.

Film: Avatar: Fire & Ash
Director: James Cameron
Cast: Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, Oona Chaplin, Stephen Lang, Sigourney Weaver
Rating: 2/5

pharma-review-nivin-pauly-returns-to-form-in-his-first-web-series

Fri Dec 19 15:35:58 IST 2025

Actor Nivin Pauly's first series, Pharma, all eight episodes streaming on JioHotstar, begins with an awkward induction ritual, shot in a single take. When his manager, played by the ever-reliable Binu Pappu, takes him to a hospital for the purpose of soliciting a collaboration with a doctor, there's a long line of bags outside, with their medical rep owners on the seats. Don't know how many of you have felt this way, but the waiting lounge of hospitals and some airports gives off a similar vibe to me. Perhaps it's because both deal with "departures" and "arrivals" in different ways — and, of course, the extremely cold temperatures. Midway through the series, Nivin's character, KP Vinod, gets to go to an airport during another crucial juncture in his career, this time with far bigger implications.

KP Vinod is a medical representative looking for his career to finally "take off". He is hoping that any of the doctors he is calling on might become his "flight". But finding out whether he'll make it or not is not the show's primary objective. It's painting the picture of an enthusiastic, idealistic young man slowly evolving into a cynical, more contemplative older man who has been sobered by the knowledge of the harsh reality unfolding around him — actually, this has always been the reality; he just happened to learn it the hard way. The eight-episode show (total runtime of around three hours) opts for an interesting non-linear narrative coursing through a timeline that begins in 2008 and ends in 2026, occasionally shifting back and forth, revealing mirroring parallels to Vinod's beginnings and the aspiring, promising ones that come after him, hungry for opportunities, parottas, and women. Some of them might even moonlight as pimps, suggested by one scene where Binu Pappu does exactly the same as part of teaching his junior the ropes.

First, let me get this out of the way: It's a joy to finally see Nivin in a way I like to see him. I don't know about you, but I've always preferred him in serious, drama-heavy roles, such as Hey Jude (my favourite performance of his), Action Hero Biju, and Jacobinte Swargarajyam. I'm not a big fan of his comedic side, with the exception of his work in Kanakam Kamini Kalaham (loved it wholly) and Varshangalkku Shesham. And in Pharma, there's enough time for Nivin to develop his character. As a morally grey character overpowered, once he has found success, by the hard-hitting realisation that he chose the wrong profession — or, rather, the wrong side of the same profession — Nivin conveys the inner turmoil with a basic measure of sincerity that it demands.

I reckon it has to do with the casting of some top talents in the industry, including Shruti Ramachandran, Rajit Kapur, and Narain. Out of these, it's the Nivin-Shruti dynamic that stands out the most. It's marked by a purely professional relationship, imbued with the necessary measure of gravity more than that of their characters' individual personal lives. That's not to say that aspect isn't given any priority. We get small details that assume larger significance later on. A man initially seen as a good-for-nothing by his superior, Vinod eventually transforms into his superior. But will he be as extremely detached, or will he make a choice that stops him from going the darker path?

Interestingly, we get very few personal family moments in the early portions of Pharma. Like a scene where he is indulging in intense multitasking while his daughter looks for her inhaler. Writer-director Arun brings those aspects up when the time is finally right, especially when the series takes an unexpectedly emotional detour. Narain, recently seen in a strong role in the superb Eko, shows up in the latter part of the show, lending his character the necessary measure of gravitas. Not all the performances are top-notch; we can feel the awkwardness of the dubbing in some moments, but those are few and far between.

While there are some writing choices that make us examine the logic behind an individual or a corporation doing certain things in the manner depicted in the latter episodes, Pharma steers clear of some of the conventional narrative choices often associated with a whistleblower drama made in mainstream Indian cinema. It doesn’t come as a surprise, because Arun did the same in his 2019 debut feature, Finals, which I had found impressive. I wouldn't spoil that film for those of you who haven't seen the Rajisha Vijayan-starrer. It was a sports drama that did something unconventional with the genre that I didn't anticipate.

In Pharma, Arun is afforded more time and space to play around with narrative structure and cinematographic choices. The opening single-take (with evidently invisible Hitchcockian-style stiches) reflects the sense of urgency with which Vinod is pushed into the sea of possible opportunities by his superior. There is another place where the single-take is used, again for a particular reason. Arun and cinematographer Abinandan Ramanujam aren't interested in recreating the "realistic" look of a hospital in most places, and I think it was a clever move. The sterile, depressing look brought on by white fluorescent lamps is replaced, in some places, with warm lights and markedly cinematic, high-contrast lighting. It's obvious, of course, that those locations wouldn't look like that in real life, but when you're dealing with a fairly grim atmosphere which gets thicker with foreboding and menace as we get into the latter episodes, the pleasing colour tones slowly help ease us into material. There'll be time to deal with rain, muted colours and darkness later.

After all, it's expected when you're dealing with an evil pharmaceutical corporation, the very enterprise that once paid handsomely for your services. Vinod finds out that the "floatation device" he had on for a certain period in the stormy sea of make-or-break opportunities, before he found the "branch" that shoots him straight up an elevated arena where great riches await, is no longer useless. He soon realises that what he now needs is a bulletproof armour, since he has now entered an unpleasant, perilous zone — a jungle populated with wolves who all sound alike when they speak at team meetings and conferences. You cannot accuse this show of being "artificial" when it comes to certain dialogues and deliveries because that's how most corporate people speak.

Interestingly, JioHotstar's western counterpart platformed another real-life based medical drama four years ago — Dopesick, starring an excellent Michael Keaton and a host of Hollywood's top acting talents navigating a similar scenario. Though Pharma doesn't come close to the perfection of that show, its merits far outweigh the shortcomings by a fairly large margin. Pharma is a classic example of a whistleblower drama-cautionary tale in the same vein as Michael Mann's The Insider (with Al Pacino and Russell Crowe), Spotlight (with Michael Keaton and Mark Ruffalo), and, of course, Dopesick. The effort that went into this is quite evident. Hopefully, this is an encouraging sign; hopefully, we'll get to see more top stars in Malayalam attempt long-format stories of similar or longer durations.

Series: Pharma

Streaming on: JioHotstar

Director: PR Arun

Cast: Nivin Pauly, Shruti Ramchandran, Rajit Kapur, Narain, Binu Pappu, Veena Nandakumar

Rating: 4/5

bha-bha-ba-review-good-mass-entertainer-spoof-weak-revenge-story

Thu Dec 18 16:02:08 IST 2025

It's important, first. to recognise who the narrator of this story is. In Bha Bha Ba (short for Bhayam Bhakti Bahumanam), there is more than one, each with their own way of narration and a vivid imagination to boot, embellishing it in any way they see fit, with all the necessary flavours, colours, sound effects, music, and atmospheric details. So, it's only fitting that the film — led by Dileep, Vineeth Sreenivasan, and featuring an extended cameo by Mohanlal — employs the devices of gonzo filmmaking whenever and wherever it sees fit. Not all of it works together. When it works, it works really well. The inverse scenario? Draining.

Bha Bha Ba is many things, but when distilled down to its very essence, it's a revenge story in the same vein as the Kamal Haasan-fronted Chanakyan, directed by TK Rajeev Kumar, that echoes the same high-spirited and quirky filmmaking sensibilities of Lijo Jose Pellissery (only Double Barrel), Adhik Ravichandran (Good Bad Ugly, Mark Antony), the early Priyadarshan capers, and... well, there's a bit of Omar Lulu too in there. It's the Omar Lulu-reminiscent segments that don't work — the segments that get the strong urge to keep reminding that they're watching a movie, instead of trusting the audience to put two and two together.

And Bha Bha Ba is a movie that does this often. To an extent, the approach is effective, lest somebody asks where the logic in this movie is. That it has "no logic, only madness" is established early on. Here's where I once again bring up the point mentioned in the first line. It's established that the story is being told primarily by one group of kids who are separated from their rivals by class, caste and everything else. Naturally, their story will be presented to us in a larger-than-life canvas. It reminded me of a time in my childhood when I knew only popular entertainers and consequently always imagined “real-life” events on a big canvas with lots of fire, smoke, and bright lights. It means that, say, when a grenade is thrown in an action sequence, the targets will be flung into the air in the same trajectory — and also revealing, if you look closely, the wire work facilitating this endeavour.

About this urge to constantly remind us that this is a movie... There are places where the meta, self-aware nature feels like overkill. At one point, someone tells a story which we initially assumed to be real, but then another character breaks the bubble by revealing that it's the story of an iconic, superstar-making Mammootty character. Those like me, who thankfully grew up in the 90s on a steady diet of the best of Mammootty and Mohanlal films instead of their later pale imitations, will instantly recognise the reference. So it's a bit off-putting to see an explanation of its origin. Perhaps the makers found it necessary to include it for those in the current generation, whose first Mammootty movie might have been The Great Father (or worse: Pullikkaran Staraa).

But that's not all. There's also its tendency to rely too much on self-deprecating humour (or, in popular Malayali parlance: self oo**u). I enjoyed some of it, especially the ones that draw from Vineeth Sreenivasan's Chennai connection and his brother Dhyan Sreenivasan's viral off-screen persona. There are many more references, including musical choices, which require a strong familiarity with Malayalam and Tamil cinema of the past. (I imagine it would be difficult to explain all these to a non-Malayali who decides to check it out for the first time.)

I went into Bha Bha Ba with low expectations, because I was never a Dileep fan. I've always struggled with his movies, with the only exception being Kammara Sambhavam. It was the last Dileep movie that, despite its imperfections, had some substance. Since that Murali Gopy-scripted political satire, which came out eight years ago, Bha Bha Ba is the only Dileep movie from which I got the most fun. The revenge element is weak, which I’ll get to later. It primarily works, in fits and spurts, as a competent parody of the mass masala entertainer that's been dominating the "pan-Indian" market lately.

A particular instance has a kid asking, "What do you think this is — KGF?" We do get a tiny KGF-style version of it when Mohanlal's character is introduced, and during the tour of his "kingdom", Dileep remarks, "Everything is cinematic here, no?" And that's purely the intention of debutant writer-director Dhananjay Shankar, who directs this movie with the same enthusiasm as someone who suddenly learns about a pocket-friendly all-you-can-eat buffet and stuffs everything they lay their eyes on. There's a delirious pre-interval, 1980s-style disco-themed fight sequence that's one of the most entertaining things I've witnessed in cinema this year. It's the ultimate moment in the entire movie.

You might wonder if this sequence involves Mohanlal. No. Unfortunately, his extended cameo works more like an awards show where a superstar is asked to perform his signature moves by members of the audience. (Remember that cringe-inducing "stylish" stage entry of Mammootty on a motorcycle?) I'm not implying Mohanlal's presence is similarly detrimental, but if you ask me if it’s better than (or as good as) his entry in Nelson Dhilipkumar's Jailer, I would say no. (While on Nelson, he is better at this genre than anyone else currently, because even when some of his movies don't fully work, at least each character has a unique identity. A Nelson alum even appears briefly in Bha Bha Ba.

Naturally, whenever a buffet and lots of stuffing are involved, a bit of bloating is expected. Speaking of, Bha Bha Ba begins with someone desperately wanting to visit the loo for a bit of Number 2, a scenario which we learn was all part of an elaborate plan. As for the motive, it's where the movie falters. Of course, one can acknowledge the fact that Dileep is quite convincing in his reasons for undertaking a crazy vengeance trip such as this — because there exist people who do some of the wildest things for reasons that may seem relatively insignificant in the larger scheme of things — but, as far as I'm concerned, this failed to connect. It also doesn't help that the events that caused this man so much are presented when all the noise and smoke-and-mirrors attempts are about to wind down. It would've probably worked if they had been placed much earlier, but I doubt it.

A second part is expected, with a delightfully unexpected cameo, from a huge South Indian name, in this one that has likely sealed a deal of a follow-up with him as the principal antagonist. But when the first story isn't compelling enough, it naturally engenders the question: Why, though? Overall: Technically outstanding lukewarm storytelling.

One thing is for sure: Dileep is tailor-made for spoofs, provided he is in the hands of a filmmaker with a solid enough grasp on the genre — a filmmaker willing to break all shackles to step out of the comfort zone. And for that characteristic alone, I would say Dhananjay Shankar is a filmmaker to look out for. I just hope that the sequel — or whatever he is about to make next — has stronger material.

Film: Bha Bha Ba
Director: Dhananjay Shankar
Cast: Dileep, Vineeth Sreenivasan, Mohanlal, Baiju, Balu Varghese, Ashokan
Rating: 2.5/5

papa-buka-review-this-dr-biju-film-bridges-india-and-papua-new-guinea-through-a-shared-war

Sat Dec 13 17:15:40 IST 2025

Papa Buka, the latest film by director Dr Biju, takes us on a journey through the forgotten chapters of World War II. Set against the serene landscape of Papua New Guinea (PNG), the film bridges the connection between two Indian historians and a Papua New Guinean war veteran, Papa Buka. Unlike other war films, Papa Buka is a slow-paced and meditative movie that compels the audience to listen to personal stories and reflect on the pain and memories of a war that crossed oceans.

Papa Buka reflects the historical reality that both Papua New Guinean and Indian soldiers were drawn together by events far beyond their control. The film hints that both groups fought and suffered in a war that was not truly theirs, shaping their lives in ways neither chose.

One of the film’s greatest strengths is its cinematography, which highlights the rich biodiversity of Papua New Guinea and illustrates the connection that the indigenous people have to the land. Furthermore, the village scenes and close-up shots give the film a vivid texture that brings the environment to life.

Equally compelling is the film’s cultural immersion. Rather than treating Papua New Guinea as an exotic backdrop, the director allows its people, customs, and oral traditions to drive the narrative. The film portrays clan dynamics, spirituality, and identity in a respectful manner.

Another strength of Papa Buka is its deliberate use of local languages. Rather than relying on English or simplified dialogue, the film allows conversations to unfold naturally in Indian and Papua New Guinean dialects. This choice is more than stylistic; it is an essential part of how the film preserves cultural identity.

The Papua New Guinean actors bring authenticity and emotional nuance to their roles. The titular character, Papa Buka, played by Sine Boboro, is especially compelling. His expressions carry warmth, pain, and authority, and serves as both a guide for the historians and a bridge to the past.

The character selection is well-balanced, featuring characters of diverse backgrounds and age groups whose presence expands the story’s cultural scope. The way these characters are intertwined gives the film a natural rhythm. The conversations unfold slowly, and the relationships feel organic. Although the characters differ in language, customs, and worldviews, their human experiences intersect. Small gestures like shared meals, exchanged stories, and quiet moments of recognition make the cultural bridge feel authentic rather than symbolic.

An important tool used for storytelling in this film is silence. It becomes another form of communication between characters from different cultures. In this stillness, the mesmerising, yet eerie, sounds and sights of the forest are elevated.

The film’s atmosphere is further shaped by the music of Ricky Kej, a three-time Grammy Award winner. For the soundtrack, Kej drew inspiration from tribal rhythms and instruments, archival recordings, and natural soundscapes. The result is a subtle score that supports the film’s contemplative tone without overshadowing it.

For Papua New Guinea, Papa Buka is more than a film; it is a cultural milestone. By centering PNG voices, traditions, and histories, it asserts the nation’s place on the global cinematic stage. Its Oscar nomination amplifies this impact, bringing it international recognition.

The nomination is significant not only for its prestige but for its visibility and opportunity: it signals to the world that Papua New Guinean cinema has stories worth telling, voices worth hearing, and artistry on par with global filmmaking. It also highlights the continued relevance of a collaboration between Papua New Guinea and India, reflecting how both communities are linked through a war they did not choose and honouring that shared legacy today.

the-great-shamsuddin-family-review-farida-jalal-leads-a-terrific-cast-in-anusha-rizvi-s-comedy-drama

Fri Dec 12 16:17:28 IST 2025

When Peepli Live director Anusha Rizvi returns with a film after 15 years — and that too with a stellar cast featuring Farida Jalal, Sheeba Chaddha, Natasha Rastogi, Shreya Dhanwanthary and Kritika Kamra, among others — it’s hard not to hit play. Set in Delhi, The Great Shamsuddin Family, now streaming on JioHotstar, follows two generations of women and the relationship they share — equal parts annoying and caring — while also tracing the generational divide and the everyday challenges faced by Muslims in India.

Kritika Kamra plays Bani Ahmed, a writer racing against a 12-hour deadline to finish an application for a job in the US. Why America? Because it’s safer. But the doorbell rings, and then doesn’t stop.

First comes Bani’s cousin Iram (Shreya Dhanwanthary) with a bag stuffed with ₹25 lakh in cash. Then her motormouth professor friend Amitav (Purab Kohli) and his student Latika (Joyeeta Dutta). Soon after, Bani’s mother, Asiya (Dolly Ahluwalia), and her elder sister Akko (Farida Jalal) show up, who are planning a pilgrimage. They’re followed by Bani’s elder sister Humaira (Juhi Babbar Soni). Then, her cousin Zoheb (Nishank Verma) and his girlfriend Pallavi (Anushka Banerjee), who have eloped, are getting married. And finally, Zoheb’s mother, Saafiya (Sheeba Chaddha), and Iram’s mother, Nabeela (Natasha Rastogi), land up too.

And when so many people land up under one roof — and you throw multiple contrived situations at them — you get every flavour imaginable: sweet, sour, spicy, but never a dull moment.

The film packs in too much, as if deliberately trying to create chaos. There’s the generational gap, an interfaith relationship, familial expectations, responsibilities, and the everyday negotiations of being a Muslim family in an increasingly Islamophobic India — yet it keeps the tone light, laced with humour. The personal and the political sit side by side, treated with the same breezy touch, rooted in warmth and banter.

This slice-of-life comedy doesn’t seem to be trying to make a point, but just exists, as if claiming a space for a story of an ordinary Muslim household in Delhi, especially when popular culture has been on an overdrive to vilify. ‘These stories exist, we exist,’ the film appears to convey with its gentle humour and cosy setting.

The story is largely set in Bani’s home and is just about one day, and has almost a theatre-like quality. Its aesthetics lie in realism.

And while it isn’t a perfect film, and some aspects – such as the immediate fear following a communal incident – fail to land, the performances absolutely stand out.

Kamra is excellent as Bani, the responsible one trying to hold the chaos together. Dhanwanthary shines as the gullible Iram, cracking you up more often than you expect. Chaddha is reliably flawless, and Kohli’s Amitav manages to irritate you just the right amount.

And Farida Jalal? She’s a delight. She steals every scene — whether it’s her deadpan enquiry about Amitav (“Hindu hai? Chalo insaan ka bacha hai”), or her retort when the lawyer demands an extra bribe for Zoheb and Pallavi’s marriage: “At least, bribes should be secular.”

With a running time of about 100 minutes, The Great Shamsuddin Family isn’t a film that always has it all together, but one that’s engaging and warm. Not to mention, at a time when the film space is all about loud men inflicting violence, this light, chaotic ride truly stands out.

Film: The Great Shamsuddin Family

Director: Anusha Rizvi

Cast: Kritika Kamra, Shreya Dhanwanthary, Sheeba Chaddha, Farida Jalal, Purab Kohli

Rating: 3/5

real-kashmir-football-club-review-mohammed-zeeshan-ayyub-shines-in-sony-liv-s-gentle-underdog-saga

Fri Dec 12 16:19:29 IST 2025

Stories from Kashmir—in both fact and fiction—are often boxed into the same themes: militancy, the military, Pakistan and conflict. But every now and then, something far more layered and humane breaks through that frame, and showcases, in a way, the real Kashmir – breathing, living, laughing, crying and rejoicing. Real Kashmir Football Club, a SonyLIV eight-part series, is one such story.

The show is inspired by the real-life journey of Shamim Mehraj and Sandeep Chattoo, the duo who founded Real Kashmir FC in 2016 after the devastation caused by the 2014 floods. Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub plays Sohail Meer, a disgruntled journalist who quits the profession to start a professional football club in the Valley. Along the way, he teams up with Shirish Kemmu (Manav Kaul), a liquor baron, who faces not just hardline politician Nazir Dar (Adhir Bhat) but also his own past, the one he had left behind in Pampore during the exodus in the 1990s.

A team begins to take shape—a motley group drawn from every corner of life: men who quit stable jobs to chase a dream, a boy pushed into cricket but in love with football, another who signed up simply for the ₹10,000 salary, and some who join for izzat (respect). And then there’s the coach Mustafa (Mu’Azzam Bhat), who carries an innate goodness, and “sher-e-Srinagar” Azlan (Anmol Dhillon Thakeria), a football legend for the valley. Even though Mustafa and Azlan cannot see eye to eye, they come together for one shared dream: to make something out of football in a conflict-ridden place. All this stokes a sense of urgency in a show, which otherwise progresses at a gentler pace—a sense of how important a sport can be, not so much as a profession but for a larger purpose in life.

It somehow reminded me of the journey of the Afghanistan cricket team, an example of how a sport can create pride and joy in circumstances that offer very little of either. Real Kashmir Fan Club is your familiar underdog story, with its share of hits and misses, but with its heart in the right place.

But where the show absolutely shines is in how deliberately it refuses Kashmir’s token imagery — the Dal Lake and shikaras, the barbed wires, the guns, the ‘Free Kashmir’ graffiti. These elements exist, but they recede into the background when placed beside a roadside barber at work, a butcher in his shop, a man selling lavasa breads, children in school uniforms racing through narrow lanes, and neighbourhoods humming with everyday energy.

The individual character arcs are familiar and largely expected. But the one that truly stands out is that of Amaan (Abhishant Rana), the club’s operations manager — a boy who has all the makings of someone who could throw stones, yet chooses another path. Rana brings such innocence and sincerity to the role that he becomes the clearest expression of a young Kashmiri’s inner conflict, caught between conservative pressures and the possibility of a different life.

Real Kashmir Football Club has its share of shortcomings. Shirish’s inner turmoil about returning to his ancestral home — and, by extension, confronting a past shaped by conflict — never fully lands. The show also tends to resolve its challenges far more quickly than expected, softening the emotional stakes.

Yet despite these flaws, it remains a refreshing watch — a series anchored in a certain purity of intent, content simply to tell a beautiful story. And it helps that the performances land, especially Ayyub’s, who’s simply excellent.

jay-kelly-review-george-clooney-s-drama-is-satyajit-ray-s-nayak-if-made-by-noah-baumbach-but-not-as-great

Sat Dec 06 17:33:52 IST 2025

At one point in Jay Kelly, its eponymous protagonist, a middle-aged actor (George Clooney), undertakes a train journey to attend a tribute event. In the meantime, he is besieged by the after-effects of multiple events: a fight with a former best friend at a bar, a midlife crisis, and an attempt to reconnect with his estranged daughters. Hollywood itself has ventured into this terrain too often — including one starring Clooney himself, and directed by Alexander Payne. But the film that Jay Kelly reminded me most of was Satyajit Ray's 1966 classic Nayak, also about an actor re-examining his life and reflecting on the wrong, regretful choices he made in the past.

One of the filmmakers associated with the 'mumblecore' movement, Noah Baumbach's work has caught different characters at different points of their existence, grappling with all kinds of dilemmas. The most notable — and my favourite — is Frances Ha (led by Greta Gerwig), which I saw at a crucial point in my life, when neither Frances nor I had my s*** together. That monochrome-textured film didn't offer me any solution for my situation, but it was one of those films that had telepathically conveyed a message: “Just hang in there, man.”

13 years later, Baumbach has made a film — out now on Netflix — about a man who is a victor in one department and a failure in another. Jay Kelly seems to ask: If you're somebody who was fortunate enough to achieve many professional wins, but at the cost of isolating your loved ones, would you consider yourself successful? When we catch Jay Kelly, the character, at the beginning of the film, he is being bombarded by a lot of things. His youngest daughter shows no interest in bonding with him. The demise of his mentor, the one who gave him his first big acting break. And then he runs into his former best friend, Timothy Galligan (Billy Crudup), who is still bitter about the fact that Kelly has attained a position that he once dreamt of. (The reality, we later learn, was something else.) Cue the ugly fight. In Nayak, however, the fight happened with a random stranger, for a different reason — one that Uttam Kumar reads about in the papers as he is about to embark on his journey to collect an award in a different city.

In the Ray film, we also saw the Uttam Kumar character being advised by a manager, the presence of whom automatically lends the star a larger-than-life quality. (Today, even an influencer born yesterday has a manager.) Kelly’s manager is Ron Sukenick, played by Adam Sandler. We usually don't see films where individuals in this area of work are given the necessary importance. The portrayal is often reduced to an annoyingly hyperactive, talking-walking diary following the celebrity, informing them about their upcoming engagements. Baumbach writes Sukenick as someone fiercely loyal; he is serious about his profession, not as a dubious figure resorting to threats to get a news story pulled or launching a whitewashing campaign.

Sukenick, we gradually learn, is also dealing with his midlife crisis. Burdened by the weight of managing someone of Kelly's stature while also trying to manage his family life has taken a toll on him. (Gerwig plays Sukenick's concerned better half in a cameo). Jay Kelly is the film where ‘Adam Sandler the actor’ gets more prominence than ‘Adam Sandler the comedian’. We are also introduced to Laura Dern, who, in a brief appearance, plays Kelly's publicist; like Sukenick, she too realises the unhealthy after-effects of dealing with Kelly. We also learn that Sukenick and Liz share a bittersweet backstory. Again, occupational hazards that accompany a profession where you’re managing a — in their own words — “child.”

Here’s the problem with this film, though. The poignant moments are few and far between. I think one of the main reasons is Baumbach's attempts to pay attention to every character and their backstories, but his (and Emily Mortimer's) writing doesn’t allow enough time to get us acquainted with these characters to the point of getting us deeply invested in their lives. Ironic, considering the film's protagonist is a father whose daughters are now leading independent lives without wanting him near them. Or perhaps, the film is asking us to see things from Kelly's point of view — or that of any celebrity who had to endure the "misfortune" of becoming world famous but also the pain of alienating those who played a part in their growth.

Strangely enough, the most touching aspect of Baumbach's film is the climactic moment, which functions as much as a George Clooney tribute as Kelly’s. It works for two reasons: One, it reaffirms the fact that Clooney is one of the best (and most underappreciated?) actors we have. Two, it touched the Clooney fan in me who discovered him for the first time while watching The Peacemaker (co-starring Nicole Kidman) on television as a child. So, yeah, maybe there's something to take away from Jay Kelly, after all.

Film: Jay Kelly
Director: Noah Baumbach
Cast: George Clooney, Adam Sandler, Laura Dern, Billy Crudup, Riley Keough, Grace Edwards, Stacy Keach
Rating: 3.5/5

dhurandhar-review-aditya-dhar-made-a-brilliant-movie-and-then-dumbed-it-down

Sun Dec 07 10:48:27 IST 2025

At the outset, let us address two points used to throw shade at Dhurandhar ahead of its release. One was the violence; the second, the 20-year age gap between the leads, Ranveer Singh and Sara Arjun. True enough, the bloodshed is enough to make even the most ardent gore-fan flinch a couple of times.

However, there is a difference between glorifying violence and depicting it. Dhurandhar, for the most part, does the latter. And, given the settings, what is shown is a bare minimum—it is a reflection of the ecosystem rather than an attempt to awe the gore-hungry.

As to assertions of age-inappropriate casting. Yes, Ranveer is 40, and Sara is 20, and their characters indeed have a romantic subplot. One scene, fairly early on, was slightly discomforting because Sara just looked too young. But it soon becomes evident that the age difference is a script requirement. Later on, it is even spelt out in the screenplay—her character is 19, and he is perceived to be in his mid-30s. So, the casting, in this context, is age-appropriate. Therefore, such ill-informed criticism is not a valid reason to avoid this largely well-executed effort. A better reason to skip it would be the violence—it is not for the faint of heart and, to be fair, the trailer gives plenty of warning. For those who can stomach it, Dhurandhar is a mostly engaging experience, with a few minor glitches that can be major irritants.

Firstly, someone needs to sit director Aditya Dhar down and explain to him that his attempt to spoon-feed patriotic feelings and encourage remembrance of the vile plots India has endured over the years is offensive to patriotic Indians. How dare he assume that we would forget?

If the reasoning is to explain all this to younger audiences who will watch the movie now and in the future, it may be a more justified goal. Perhaps a few young ones, who did not live through these horrors, cannot fully appreciate what the rest of us felt as we learned about fellow Indians getting massacred. But, even if that were the aim, this film, without documentary-style fillers, would have been more than enough. Those who are unaware of the terror plots against India should perhaps take the effort to inform themselves and return to see how the movie depicts them.

That said, despite shoving in some unnecessary and cringey jingoism, Dhurandhar is a moving tribute to the sacrifice of India’s bravest. R. Madhavan, as the IB chief, sets the ball rolling with a stellar performance.

Ranveer is introduced soon, but his character, tellingly, does not attract too much attention to himself. The first big action set-piece, however, was slightly underwhelming. But Akshaye Khanna’s introduction into the story (as Rehman Dakait) lifts the movie. He carries it for most of the first half as Ranveer’s character gradually establishes his presence in the chain of events.

Even as the movie oscillates between peaks and troughs, it keeps us hooked as we try to decipher what is coming next. The romance, though an irritant, wasn’t too unbearable. The love song and the dance number could have — and should have — been avoided. But despite the lags caused by all this fluff, it picks up momentum again.

The segments pertaining to the 26/11 attacks are skilfully handled, despite the awareness of what’s coming. When the film shows the Pakistanis’ celebratory moment, it hits hard — conveyed particularly through Ranveer’s reaction. This—the way the story is constructed to lead up to the aftermath of the attacks—was exceedingly intelligent writing.

Arjun Rampal’s character, though promising much in the trailer, felt a tad underused. He will likely dominate the second part, scheduled to release in March 2026. Sanjay Dutt was disappointing; it felt like he was hard done by with the way his character was conceived and executed.

There are a couple of instances where the effects look shoddy. But, mostly, the outcome of the big bucks spent is evident on screen. This is a welcome relief when you think about the extremely low standards set by some other big-scale Bollywood movies.

The second half proceeds at a brilliant pace—not too fast, but not slow either. This, combined with the climactic fight, makes for a gripping finale. However, towards the end, we get a frustrating glimpse of the director’s urge to dumb things down—a flashback scene to remind the audience why a character was dying.

To be fair, Dhurandhar delivers the necessary highs. Now, it’s up to the second part to hit it out of the park. Aditya has proven himself capable and talented. There’s the nagging feeling that he is limited by market demands and the dismally low bar in Bollywood. However, he must break free of these to avoid limiting himself to a cage of his own making.

Movie: Dhurandhar

Language: Hindi

Cast: Ranveer Singh, Akshaye Khanna, Sara Arjun, Arjun Rampal, R. Madhavan, Sanjay Dutt

Rating: 3/5

kalamkaval-review-an-unforgettable-mammootty-and-a-sturdy-vinayakan-in-a-haunting-surprise-laden-thriller

Sat Dec 06 10:24:09 IST 2025

For a film about a serial killer with over a dozen victims—though the police estimate a number, and the killer privately reveals there may be even more—surprisingly few violent scenes are shown. This is a relief for two reasons: first, the film doesn't mimic the explicit style of Korean thrillers, though the story is just as ambitious; second, there is a strong narrative reason for this choice. When the first murder happens, the casual lead-up serves to amplify the coldness of the act.

That Mammootty is the antagonist is no spoiler for anyone familiar with the promos. And playing a man who is bad to women, for various twisted reasons, is not fresh territory for him, from films like Kariyila Kaattu Pole to the most recent Rorschach. But the beauty of Kalamkaval and, in turn, Mammootty, is that it can make you feel like the man is playing an evil man for the first time. I always say that some of the greatest performances are those that make you feel possessed by not the actor playing the character, but the character itself. When you walk out of the theatre and feel that some of the mannerisms of Stanley Das (Mammootty) have slightly rubbed off on you, there can't be better evidence, is there?

Jithin K. Jose's directorial debut works like a mystery book from a smartphone-free past, divided by chapters with interesting titles. And you begin to wonder whether the film's slightly yellowish colour palette was meant to create the sense of events leaping off the pages of a long-discarded novel. Or perhaps they are meant to match the stained notebooks in which this killer accurately reproduces, with his felt pen, the portraits of his female victims. This activity alone suggests a man of impeccable photographic memory, of a vast imagination. What's his profession? Why is he doing this? Does he kill only women?

Kalamkaval is a story in pursuit of the answers to not these three questions but others too. It's a perfect example of a thriller that demonstrates that sometimes more fun can be had with a crime story where the killer's identity is already known to us, but not to the sleuths.

It takes relish in delighting us with numerous surprises, achieved through the combined virtuosic zeal of Jithin K. Jose's economical filmmaking and Praveen Prabhakar's seamless, magical editing. The surprises don't cease to come even when the end credits roll. Of course, some are bound to question the lack of completeness with regard to certain resolutions, but where's the fun in that? When two heavyweight talents like Mammootty and Vinayakan are involved, why settle for something ordinary? The latter’s police role is his best since the one in 2022's Oruthee. The character comes with an interesting backstory, mentioned as a casual joke early on, which becomes relevant in the film’s closing moments.

It would be hyperbole to compare this film to David Fincher's Zodiac, but there are places in Kalamkaval that share the same unnerving qualities. The Fincher film makes us uncomfortable because the real-life killer hasn't yet been found. The latter makes us uncomfortable because that earth-shattering pre-interval development takes everything into a whole different dimension.

And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the impact of Mujeeb Majeed's refreshingly original score and soundtrack: not a retread of what we heard in Kishkindha Kaandam and Eko, but different altogether. I don't think I've seen a retro Tamil song (specifically created for this film) employed to such chilling effect in any film before. Majeed's work, combined with the eerie art design and a maroon 1986 Honda Accord (with two 13s on its license plate), occasionally imbues the film with the ambiance of a ghost story. How fitting for a film where Mammootty behaves like a spectre!

Film: Kalamkaval
Director: Jithin K. Jose
Cast: Mammootty, Vinayakan, Gibin Gobinath, Rajisha Vijayan, Shruti Ramachandran
Rating: 4.5/5

tere-ishk-mein-review-dhanush-s-film-trades-emotion-for-excess-and-calls-it-love

Sat Nov 29 11:55:35 IST 2025

In Aanand L Rai’s 2013 film Raanjhanaa, Dhanush played Kundan, an obsessive stalker, who cannot take ‘no’, and slits his wrist when rejected by Zoya (Sonam Kapoor).

In Rai’s 2025 film Tere Ishk Mein, Dhanush plays Shankar, who’s as obsessive, but also extremely violent. He beats up classmates with ease and, when rejected by Mukti (Kriti Sanon), storms her engagement announcement with petrol bombs and eventually sets her house on fire.

But while in Raanjhanaa, Zoya was at least repulsed by Kundan, Mukti is inexplicably drawn Shankar. It feels like toxicity masquerading as passionate love, but is actually violence inflicted both on screen and on the audience’s senses.

Written by Neeraj Yadav and Himanshu Sharma, the film opens in Ladakh, where our supposedly “best” man for the job -- Flight Lieutenant Shankar Gurukkal (Dhanush) – is in full combat mode, engaging with the “enemy” just on the basis of a “call of his stomach.” He can’t follow orders, gets grounded, and is handed over for psychological evaluation to Dr Mukti -- who is heavily pregnant but is somehow dispatched to an impending war zone.

The moment they meet, simmering anger, guilt and sorrow bubble up, triggering a flashback to their first encounter.

Shankar, a law student and DUSU president, is introduced beating up boys for political support. Mukti, at the same college, is presenting her thesis on anger and violence. And instead of running for her life, she sees the perfect case study in him, and decides to fix him. He, meanwhile, does change, but not without falling obsessively in love with her.

And when she finally catches on to the intensity of his feelings, she hands him an impossible task. He somehow achieves it, only to discover she’s already moved on, igniting his default trio: anger, resentment and violence.

He would as easily pour petrol on her boyfriend as set her house on fire. The justification? That he’s poor and his mother died when he was ten, which runs thin especially when his father, played by Prakash Raj, is depicted as unfailingly supportive and loving.

While he’s problematic, Mukti is no less. She isn’t repulsed by him — she’s drawn in. When she stops him mid-assault and he says, “Itni sundar ladki ka haath utha hai to kisi gaal pe to padna hi hai” (If such a beautiful girl raises her hand, it has to land on someone’s cheek), she smiles. When he says, “Mujhe fun chahiye,” meaning he wants sex, she doesn’t recoil. And when he finally sets her house on fire, her explanation is: “He’s just in love,” as if love is some kind of illness.

The film wants you to believe it’s about two broken individuals drawn to one another, but it feels more like a case of broken writing. While Shankar’s motivations are understudied, but what is more perplexing is Mukti’s saviour complex -- why she feels compelled to fix him, and why she’s obsessively drawn to him. Oh, and she also becomes an alcoholic out of nowhere. You’ll never know, why.

Rai’s Raanjhanaa had two strong suits: A.R. Rahman’s music and Benares, which functioned like a living, breathing character — its ghats, its cadence, its way of life. Here, music barely leaves a mark, and Delhi is reduced to a cardboard backdrop, explored only through its most obvious contrast: Shankar’s slum versus Mukti’s Lutyens’ Delhi.

While Dhanush and Sanon land a cracking performance, other actors, tall in their way, are underused – be it Raj, Tota Roy Chowdhury, as Sanon’s father, or Priyanshu Painyuli, as Dhanush’s friend.

Benaras and Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub appear for a few minutes, but those minutes — the ghats and Ayyub’s trademark ‘Pandit’ dialogue — end up being among the strongest shots in the film.

But at the end, Tere Ishk Mein leaves you uneasy, if not triggered. It leaves you thinking – why are we glorifying toxic, violent, so-called alpha males? And why is it okay for a female to have saviour complex – that her love can somehow fix him? Why are we still exploring them in 2025? Or with Kabir Singh, Animal and Saiyaara, are we sliding back?

Film: Tere Ishk Mein

Director: Aanand L. Rai

Cast: Dhanush, Kriti Sanon, Prakash Raj

Rating: 2/5

victoria-review-meenakshi-jayan-makes-a-strong-impression-in-this-poignant-tale-of-resilience

Thu Nov 27 17:31:00 IST 2025

The imprint of the slap takes a while for us to notice. It takes much longer for the women who come into contact with the owner of the face, Victoria. Meenakshi Jayan plays this woman, a beautician, with convincing sincerity. This is a strong internalised performance, one that evokes the image of a pressure cooker ready to explode any minute. I found myself feeling anxious, wondering what I would do if I were in the same situation. I would've probably died of a heart attack, I thought.

Running a little under 90 minutes, Victoria is a ‘day in the life’ episode, mostly set inside the confines of a beauty parlour run by a woman who likes to make Instagram reels. The place, we later see, becomes a venue for a "group therapy" session for Victoria and the women, of varying age groups, who go there to get different procedures done. The film doesn't run in real-time, but the time jumps are rarely felt; it condenses several hours of activity in a way that makes it seem like everything is happening in the aforementioned duration. Despite adopting a handheld approach, cinematographer Anand Ravi helps maintain a steady focus on Victoria's inner turmoil.

Edited by writer-director Sivaranjini J, this is a film with perfectly timed pauses and breathing spaces, staged in such a way that they mirror real-life behaviour. There is a seamless quality to the pacing. It's cut in such a way that you don't notice the cuts. I, for one, remember noticing just a couple. There are smart choices, like knowing that you don't need to show the entirety of two friends sharing a lunch.

Every woman has distinct behavioural traits. They only show up for a short while, but you're already imagining vivid backstories, because whatever little details the women tell about themselves are enough to draw a clear enough picture. It got me thinking that this is a quality that's missing from many films today — the ability to get close to the characters and their emotions. Casting the right people matters. This film scored in this department.

As Victoria, Meenakshi delivers an astonishing level of emotional continuity, starting with the agitated mental state in which we find her on a bus on the way to work, through her struggling to get through the day while being acutely aware that returning home after work is unimaginable. There was a deeply distressing situation at home, we learn. It concerns her relationship with her boyfriend. Her father had strong objections to her pursuing a love affair with a man from a "lower caste." The boyfriend, a cab driver, finds little time to hear her woes. He strikes us as someone who lacks the guts to handle this relationship with the seriousness it demands. She experiences a nervous breakdown, her body conveying all the resultant jitters. The strongly palpable performance is anxiety-inducing. As mentioned earlier, I couldn't imagine myself as a woman experiencing such turbulent scenarios.

And yet, Victoria manages to maintain impressive composure amidst the duty of taking care of these women while trying to figure out a solution to escape the terrifying prospect of dealing with her parents later. How is she able to multitask without messing up her tasks? How is she able to switch off that side of her that's being bothered by thoughts of her problematic parents? However, it's not all doom and gloom. The film finds space for humour (the anecdote about the plumber earned some laughs at the screening) and some genuine moments of warmth. Elsewhere in the shop, a group of high-school girls break into a brief chorus. Their lyrics fit in well with the subject matter at hand. It's possible that Nadine Labaki's Lebanese film Caramel, also set in a beauty salon, was a strong influence on this film, but aside from the female camaraderie aspect, the two differ in their goals.

My favourite is an emotional moment when Victoria's best friend, to whom she hasn't spoken in a long time, notices the mark on her face. The tears start to flow, and the power goes off, with just one faint light enough to reveal the two figures. It's a visual choice that seems to suggest one or two things. Perhaps it doesn't want to show Victoria in this pitiable condition. Perhaps it's trying to say that the friend who sees her in the dark can read her mind better than the so-called boyfriend who sees her worried, slap-reddened face on a bright screen. "Don't take on burdens that you cannot bear, be it work or people," this friend tells her. A simple, comforting statement, but one that can initiate certain life-changing decisions.

Interestingly, no men are to be found in this film. The only male character is a... rooster, which has been forcibly put under Victoria's care by a woman she knows. It's an idea that implies the obvious when you tie it into the context of Victoria's predicament. The background male characters are either heard outside a door as a voice or through a blurry mobile phone screen. Men are not relevant here. Why should they be? This is a film by women, for women, and of women. Empowering, therapeutic.

Film: Victoria
Director: Sivaranjini J
Cast: Meenakshi Jayan, Sreeshama Chandran, Jolly Chirayath, Steeja Mary, Jeena Rajeev, Remadevi, Darsana Vikas
Rating: 4.5/5

the-family-man-season-3-weakest-installment-of-the-series

Sat Nov 22 10:58:40 IST 2025

At a particular juncture towards the fag end, two antagonists who are designed to be ruthless, are seen having a casual parting conversation. While you expect them to give a typically subtle farewell, they end up in a hug despite never having had an emotional connection of any extent till that point.

In another episode, two important characters are shown to be romantically involved but the whole sub-plot stares you in the face, like some of the pretentious spy thrillers that we tend to scoff at. These were the kind of template screenplay bits that The Family Man steered clear of, in the previous two seasons. However, that is not the trend in Season 3.

Srikanth Tiwari (Manoj Bajpayee) is back in action and this time, the mission is in North-East India, Nagaland to be precise. He is assigned to accompany his TASK boss Gautam Kulkarni (Dalip Tahil) to an important meeting in Kohima where the rebel leaders of the state are planning to meet for signing a peace treaty.

The whole meeting is a significant part of what Prime Minister Proneeta Basu (Seema Biswas) hopes to be a peace-making mission in the North-East India. The meeting is being headed by Nagaland's kingmaker David Khuzou (Sunil Thapa) but his own grandson Stephen Khuzou (Paalin Kabak) is against the whole idea.

Meanwhile, professional assassin and feared druglord Rukmangadha Sinha alias Rukma (Jaideep Ahlawat) is assigned a critical mission by a mysterious woman Meera Eston (Nimrat Kaur), funded by a corporate tycoon Dwaraknath (Jugal Hansraj). A major escalation leads to Tiwari becoming a major suspect, making him the most wanted man in India and this forces him to go on the run to uncover the truth.

The major crux of The Family Man Season 3 is about how Tiwari manages to drag himself and his family out of the high-profile conspiracy in which he has been named a suspect. The season has also talks about the intricacies of Nagaland politics and has subtle undertones about India's international defence policies. Will Tiwari save the day once more with the stakes at the highest?

Like in the previous two editions, Season 3 also boasts of powerful performances from the lead cast but for a change, it isn't Manoj Bajpayee who takes the cake. Jaideep Ahlawat oozes menace as the cold-blooded antagonist while Nimrat Kaur also puts up a uber-cool performance as the woman with mystery.

Bajpayee as Tiwari is a cakewalk act for the veteran but in this season, his arc looks underwhelming in comparison to that of the antagonist. In fact, for a major part of the series, you feel like Tiwari has gone missing, literally and figuratively. The technical side is top-notch and there is an international feel to the web series, which is what we have come to expect of The Family Man by now.

However, where Raj and DK falter is in the thrills. The first two seasons boasted of tighter screenplays with near-flawless sub-plots and conflicts that had thrills by the minute. In Season 3, they have tried to dabble a bit more with the emotional side of things, but that ends up causing more harm than good to the eventual product.

With just seven episodes, Season 3 is the shortest installment of The Family Man but it still feels longer than the first two seasons. Only towards the final two episodes do you feel a sense of urgency to proceedings. The stakes are its highest for Tiwari in Season 3 but unfortunately, Bajpayee's portions lack the usual punch that you associate with the iconic character.

Some of the other prominent characters like Zoya Ali (Shreya Dhanwanthary), Suchitra Tiwari (Priyamani), Saloni Bhatt (Gul Panag) and Major Sameer (Darshan Kumar) have fleeting appearances across episodes. The one good part in Season 3 is that Tiwari's family angle doesn't stretch.

On the whole, The Family Man Season 3 is an average watch at best. It certainly doesn't live upto the immense buzz created by the previous installments and is clearly the weakest season of the series. It still does have its moments, with some interesting sequences and a hilarious crossover that is an absolute riot. However, Season 3 falls well short of the bar set by its predecessors.

Series: The Family Man

Creator: Raj and DK

Cast: Manoj Bajpayee, Jaideep Ahlawat, Priyamani, Sharib Hashmi, Seema Biswas, Nimrat Kaur, Gul Panag, Shreya Dhanwanthary, Dalip Tahil

Rating: 3/5

vilaayath-buddha-review-prithviraj-sukumaran-shammi-thikalan-ensure-a-strongly-compelling-ride

Fri Nov 21 16:47:28 IST 2025

I miss Sachy, the writer-director, terribly. As someone who met him in person and knew of some projects he wanted to direct, I wish he were still here, directing. Vilaayath Buddha was one of the films he would've made if not for his untimely demise a few years ago. When it was announced that his longtime associate Jayan Nambiar would take over, I was strongly apprehensive, right before this morning’s show. I’m happy to report I could feel the spirit of Sachy in most — if not all — places in Vilaayath Buddha. That should come as a relief, I suppose.

Let me make this clear. Jayan Nambiar is not Sachy. No other Malayalam filmmaker can replace him. However, if a film ventures into familiar areas that Ayyapanum Koshiyum and Driving Licence (which Sachy wrote) have, and like those films, knows a thing or two about the boiling point of human blood, delivers the necessary catharsis exactly when our minds are ready for it, and aims for some moving redemptive arcs, I believe Jayan has done considerable justice to his mentor. In fact, Vilaayath Buddha is an excellent and assured directorial debut, if not entirely flawless. It works well as a commercial entertainer and has the advantage of not being a run-of-the-mill entertainer.

The source material — GR Indugopan's novel of the same name — toys with enough unusual ideas and cinema-friendly scenarios that, unless the producers were dumb enough to give it to someone incapable, there was no chance of going wrong with it. To start with, it has two attention-grabbing characters in the form of Bhaskaran (Shammi Thilakan) and Double Mohanan (Prithviraj Sukumaran). The makers had the good sense to start the film with the former's story, because everything revolves around him. He is, in fact, someone who prefers to have everything revolve around him. There is no place for dishonour and shame in his vocabulary. But what if, one day, he gets caught in a situation that, through no fault of his own, taints his reputation to a great degree?

It's not just Bhaskaran, a former schoolteacher-turned-panchayat president, who has to live in shame, but every other major character in this story, beginning with Mohanan, his ladylove (Priyamvada Krishnan), her mother, and Bhaskaran's son (Anu Mohan). But here's the difference between Bhaskaran and Mohanan, the latter's girlfriend, and her mother: The last three, despite their backgrounds, have made peace with who they are long ago; they are unapologetic, and walk amidst the crowds with their heads held high. On the other hand, the once-proud Bhaskaran retreats from politics and begins living as a recluse, looking after his garden and his prized possession, the sandalwood tree after which the story is named.

Casting Shammi Thilakan as Bhaskaran was a brilliant move because one cannot help but think of all the Mohanlal-Thilakan films where the two played father and son more than twice, constantly at odds with each other. Vilaayath Buddha comes close in tone to Spadikam, a Mohanlal-Thilakan classic in which the latter played the extremely strict school-teacher father of a rowdy son played by the former. The only change here is that Prithviraj and Shammi are not playing father and son, but they could've, and the film wouldn't have missed a beat. But that's not Indugopan's story (he co-wrote the script with Rajesh Pinnadan). Vilaayath Buddha combines two interesting ideas: Bhaskaran's obsession with an unusual solution that could finally free him of the unbearable stink (literal and figurative) and Mohanan's vulnerable 'mass hero' who is presented as a threat to the former's objective. Difficult to pick sides because both characters have qualities worth rooting for, regardless of their flaws.

Priyamvada Krishnan, who already proved herself capable of taking on powerful roles with that impressive debut in Thottappan, demonstrates once again that she can hold her own in a film featuring two heavyweights from different generations. Her character is as adventurous and lusty as Mohanan, on board with any crazy idea that comes to her lover's head. It's a Bonnie & Clyde relationship, except that these two are not murderous criminals on the run. And since this story was born in the imagination of Indugopan, the inclusion of unexpected humour, sometimes in the most heated situations, shouldn't come as a surprise. One example has somebody seriously threatening another with a shotgun, to the point of making us believe that this person is capable of pulling the trigger, and just a second later, we can't believe we are laughing at a shot of two allies trying to flee with their slippers. Sachy was good at this sort of thing, particularly in Ayyappanum Koshiyum. That sort of instant emotion-switching is not easy, but it works.

As for the fights, Vilaayath Buddha should be a treat for anyone who seeks punches and kicks that elicit the response, "Hell yeah!" The last film that made me feel this way was Thudarum. And, of course, both films share the same gifted composer, Jakes Bejoy, whose work in Vilayath Buddha is not what I would call his best, but it gets the job done. Two cinematographers are credited, Aravind Kashyap (the Kantara films) and Renadive ("Driving Licence"), and I do not know who did what, but I’m guessing they both should be credited for managing to extract some tension out of the right places, such as the fast chase sequences and fiery confrontations between Mohanan and his rivals. If the comparison to Sachy’s work is avoided and this film is seen as a first-time director’s work, one comes to the conclusion that Jayan Nambiar is a man who knows how to direct. Indeed a good time at the movies.

Film: Vilaayath Buddha

Director: Jayan Nambiar

Cast: Prithviraj Sukumaran, Shammi Thilakan, Priyamvada Krishnan, Anu Mohan

Rating: 4/5

eko-review-a-truly-outstanding-triumph-of-mystery-storytelling

Fri Dec 26 16:39:58 IST 2025

It’s not often we see a film where the background score does as much storytelling as the writer and director. Composer Mujeeb Majeed’s work is perfectly attuned to the needs of the new film from the writer-director duo behind last year’s blockbuster, Kishkindha Kaandam. The composition, coupled with the perceptive editing skills of Sooraj E.S., couldn’t get more symbiotic.

And in a film that doesn’t like to spell out everything for the viewer — a film that believes in making us work for it — it’s essential to have a music producer who has an excellent grasp of the material he is working with. For that, the material has to be… excellent. Eko is just that — absolutely mind-blowing!

If you thought Kishkindha Kaandam was the peak of writer-cinematographer Bahul Ramesh’s storytelling prowess, wait till you see Eko, starring Sandeep Pradeep, Vineeth, Ashokan, and some surprise casting choices that’s better left for viewers to discover. Eko is the kind of film that “film critics” who write the entire story of the movie in the review might find challenging to describe.

I can tell you which classic Malayalam filmmaker’s work Eko reminded me of. Fans of K.G. George’s supreme masterpieces in the mystery genre like Ee Kanni Koodi, Irakal, and Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback should find immense delight in this perception-altering Rubik’s Cube of a film that sets up multiple characters with secrets both destructive and empowering, backstories that may or may not be true, and a hitherto unseen and refreshing twist on the man-animal bond and parallels.

Bahul’s script works like a rich mystery novel that transcends the typical “airport novel” category of writing. The material is fertile ground for Dinjith to mine some evocative, at times poignant, imagery that relies on our imagination to play out the more hard-hitting moments. The team devises some clever, sensible methods to explain key developments. There are parts where you feel the impact of a complex ethical dilemma so deeply.

There is one particular example — a pivotal flashback — where you cannot imagine any other alternative. Some things had to be done, even if saddening. But then Bahul is careful not to let us take comfort in that thought. It’s when he presents the actual, complete truth in the film’s closing moments that you realise that there was indeed another possibility and that the person you perceived in a certain way up until that point may have another side. And I’m not just talking about one character.

Had this script been in the hands of someone else, you would’ve found forceful and relatively more on-the-nose ways of explaining events that are supposed to take us by surprise. But Bahul’s writing finds apt timing for each reveal — not just that, but how much to reveal, and when.

I mentioned in my review of Kerala Crime Files Season 2 that Bahul’s writing resembles very much that of Christopher Nolan, in that they relish the idea of playing around with time, and going back and forth whenever it’s time to bring to light new information that we earlier didn't ponder simply because we were engaged in a unidirectional thought process until that point.

Eko jumps between different eras and multiple perspectives, drawing an intriguing, near-mystical picture of legends whose dubious escapades span decades, with far-reaching ramifications. It gives the storytelling a Latin American flair. Eko demonstrates that when the individuals themselves suggest many colourful backstories, one doesn't need to look to lofty spectacle to embellish them. At one point, the sound of a nearby explosion is enough to convey a period of historical significance. This is economical storytelling at its best. We are not told which period it is set in. It leaves you to put two and two together, with little details sprinkled here and there. Absolutely no need for padding it up. This is a two-hour film with the weight of a three-hour film, but is supremely confident that it can tell its story without taking an extra hour.

The performances are exceptional across the board, whether it's Sandeep Pradeep, Vineeth, Ashokan, Narain, and everyone else cast against type. Eko is another feather in Sandeep’s cap. This is his time. The man has been grabbing all the right projects. Among the younger crop of actors, I find him more interesting than someone like, say, Naslen.

There are more things to say about this film, but I’d rather people rushed to the theatre to see it instead of wasting too much time reading reviews. It's better to read as little as possible before going for it. I know it's hard, but I'd suggest staying away from social media until after you've watched it.

Film: Eko

Director: Dinjith Ayyathan

Cast: Sandeep Pradeep, Vineeth, Ashokan, Narain, Saheer Mohammed, Binu Pappu, Renjit Sekhar, Saurabh Sachdeva

Rating: 5/5

kaantha-review-dulquer-salmaan-s-strongest-role-in-a-largely-efficient-mystery

Fri Nov 14 15:26:10 IST 2025

In Kaantha, not just the 'reel' (the film-within-a-film, that is) moments but the 'real' flashbacks showing key events are presented in monochrome. This is bound to cause confusion for some early on. But I'm guessing the choice was deliberate, since Kaantha revolves around the search for truth (and half-truths) concealed within the motion of multiple still images. What Jean-Luc Godard said about cinema being "truth 24 frames per second" takes on an interesting connotation in the context of the events in this new film from Selvamani Selvaraj.

But how do we look for the truth when one is confronted with the possibility that those up there on the screen may be acting outside of it, too? There's one incredibly brilliant moment — and this is not a spoiler — where someone's performance reveals to someone the truth about something very personal to the former. But then we learn that only half of the truth is revealed to us, which is interpreted as the whole truth. With his first feature, Nila, released 10 years back, Selvaraj proved that he is a filmmaker with a gift for evoking a certain mood and for writing characters tormented by unacceptable, unpalatable truths. Kaantha, too, delves into the mind of characters who, for some odd reason, have been tormenting themselves with unwarranted assumptions they were led to believe, for the longest time, as the truth.

And what better place to tell the stories of deluded individuals than the world of cinema itself? Kaantha begins with a murder, staged in true noir fashion. Monochrome, rain, and a silhouette of an armed, shadowy figure. Who is the victim? Who is the killer? It will take nearly three hours of storytelling to find the answer — three hours in which there are a few areas that don’t quite work and many that do.

Let’s get the weak bits out of the way first. The strangest choice here is the use of contemporary music for a period film set in the 1950s. Was it to appeal to the much younger crowd? If that's so, I'm not sure it really works, because the overall soundscape doesn't offer any new sounds. It's too familiar and template-ish, nothing extraordinary. Its outdated attempts to dictate the audience’s emotions are occasionally draining.

It's not just the choice of soundtrack per se that feels out of place, but the choice of having some of the supporting actors perform in nearly the same theatrical manner as the actors did back then. This creates, at times, a sense of discrepancy when factoring in the notion that both the 'reel' and 'real' moments are supposed to look and sound different.

Dulquer Salmaan, I’m happy to report, understood the assignment, and so did Bhagyashri Borse. The former plays the fictional TK Mahadevan (a composite, perhaps, of several real-life matinee idols) as an actor whose on-screen and off-screen personas are easily distinguishable. Dulquer gives a thoroughly committed performance that eerily recalls some of his father's dark early roles. In fact, in one emotionally overpowering scene, he delivers an exclamation often associated with some of the celebrated Mammootty performances — and never does it appear awkward or imitative at all! It feels... genuine. Had some other actor done the same, it would've been potential troll material. Mahadevan is undoubtedly Dulquer's most memorable, strongest role yet.

And as Kumari, the newcomer heroine sharing the screen with Mahadevan, Borse is fortunate to get a part that, we eventually realise, forms the emotional fulcrum of Kaantha. Kumari comes with a background that adds an interesting layer to her personality. It’s a solid example of a woman's stunning old-school beauty and charm not interfering with her performance. The so-called 'cute' moments we see early on — the kind that may have already gotten her labelled the "next national crush" — attain a measure of poignancy in light of the events that play out in the third act, where we get into the fractured mindscape of a certain character. It's also where the editing finesse of Anthony is felt the strongest.

Rana Daggubati plays the cop, Phoenix, as someone who may have nursed acting dreams at one point, but didn't get a foot in the door and ended up joining the force instead. There's a slightly over-the-top quality to the character, which I found enjoyable. Phoenix is a far cry from the stiff, stoic, and very mechanical cop we have seen numerous times and got bored with.

However, I'm not sure I'm fully convinced by the reasons that fuel the film's principal conflict — the intense rivalry between Mahadevan and Samuthirakani's character, Ayya, the filmmaker who once mentored the former and gave him his first big break. There are times when I struggle to ruminate on the exact reasons for the rift, even after knowing the whys of it. But then, I've not worked in the film industry to experience the ridiculous pettiness of individuals who not only ruin others but also themselves. Can some people go to such extreme lengths to cause irreparable damage to someone who they feel has hurt their egos? I guess Kaantha is trying to say there are. Perhaps Selvamani drew from personal experiences. To me, Kaantha is more of a character drama than the investigative thriller that the film turns into post-intermission.

There's a line said towards the end of Kaantha, when things have gotten so bad to the point that this realisation has taken too long to register, that one needs to be humble to make a film that preaches the importance of humility. It reminded me of a line from Vincente Minnelli's excellent 1952 film The Bad and the Beautiful — also revolving around film professionals — in which Kirk Douglas's character, a producer, is told by a veteran filmmaker, "To direct a picture, a man needs humility," after the former decides to take over the project following unresolvable creative differences. The real issue was the producer's ego, not the director's skills. It could've been solved if they both had sat down and discussed things honestly. This Samuthirakani line about humility also makes you aware of the fact that there exists a section of “woke” filmmakers who don't practice what they preach through their movies. What should we do with them? What category of message-laden works of “art” do they belong to? It's complicated, isn't it?

Film: Kaantha
Director: Selvamani Selvaraj
Cast: Dulquer Salmaan, Bhagyashri Borse, Samuthirakani, Rana Daggubati
Rating: 4/5

last-samurai-standing-review-netflix-s-impressive-new-samurai-epic-bridges-old-and-new-sensibilities

Thu Nov 13 14:27:11 IST 2025

The image of the destitute samurai was a dominant feature of some of the esteemed films in the jidaigeki genre. Of course, the first title that pops up is Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai, the greatest and most popular of the genre. Widely regarded as an "action" movie, the film's fast-paced, intense moments are not — when compared to today's action films — that stand out the most, but the human elements: the camaraderie between a band of samurai who stand together, form a brotherhood, a family.... Men who have accepted the reality of their circumstances. Men who are still nursing scars — emotional and physical — from a distant past.

Another notable example is, of course, Masaki Kobayashi's Harakiri, a bleak but immensely rewatchable classic about a disenfranchised ronin (masterless samurai) challenging a vicious feudal power structure. This anti-authoritarian sentiment was recognised in not just the above two examples, but also the relatively lighthearted genre takes, most notably Kurosawa's own Yojimbo and Sanjuro, featuring a cynical hero with a sense of humour.

Shujiro Saga, the protagonist of Last Samurai Standing (on Netflix), bears the stoic, driven quality of the leading men of yesteryear and contemporary epics in the jidaigeki genre and the chambara sub-genre. You can see in Shujiro a bit of Toshiro Mifune's character from Samurai Rebellion, a bit of Tatsuya Nakadai's character from Harakiri, and a bit of Hiroyuki Sanada's character from The Twilight Samurai. (Nakadai passed away two days ago.)

Shujiro, played by Junichi Okada, is yet to fully recover from the trauma of a devastating war that the six-episode first season opens with — a stunning single-take sequence that establishes the character's background. It's a necessary sequence not just to immediately hook the viewer's attention but also to have some bearing on some unforeseen future developments. There is no time wasted in setting up Shujiro's present circumstances. The economical writing gets the information conveyed in under twenty minutes, explaining the motivation for him to participate in a deadly game that will go on to claim the lives of many.

Comparisons to Squid Game are inevitable, but the show makes it clear, about two episodes in, that its intentions are not the same as the blockbuster Korean series. So, I think it would be unfair to frequently compare this one to that show. Last Samurai Standing is less concerned with the variety of the game's levels than with solving the mystery of the game's conception.

ALSO READ | Actor Junichi Okada on mounting Netflix's six-episode epic 'Last Samurai Standing'

Somebody created this game — 'Kodoku', aptly named after a dark art practiced by sorcerers in Japanese folklore, mentioned at one point in the show — for a reason. The smart ones, including Shujiro, suspect that benevolent intentions aren't behind it. The show then adopts an investigative nature, with Shujiro and a few allies deciding to get to the bottom of it while continuing to move through the different levels of the game. Aside from Junichi Okada (also creative director), Masahiro Higashide plays one of the show's most outstanding characters, Kyojin Tsuge, an immensely confident man capable of donning clever disguises.

The open space game, which tracks the characters from town to town on a long path, gives the storytelling an advantage — another quality that makes it different from Squid Game. In Last Samurai Standing, the game is not the only thing these characters have to be concerned about. Mysterious forces from the past and present, introduced through parallel tracks with cross-cutting events, ensure that our interest is sustained through six episodes. The action is kept largely raw, with the frenetic camera capturing the palpable chaos while ensuring coherence and fluidity. There is no attempt to show off.

Different choreography styles are attempted, including a brief instance in which the viewer becomes the “opponent,” taking in the punches. The staging is as gritty as they come, following the principles followed by the masters in their classics. At times, it's a combination of two parallel action sequences that involve, 1) extras getting mercilessly cut down by a psychopath to clear the path while his bloodied opponent readies himself to strike again, and 2) a young girl being "haunted" by a terrifying giant who is on a mission to kill every member of a particular clan.

The ever-increasing threats and unexpected twists and turns — some predictable, others not — signal that the "good guys" may have to contend with more than what can be contained in a six-episode arc. That assumption is proven true in the season finale when, after an intense battle involving a union of fire and water, and a generous gushing of blood, it's revealed that things are only going to get more complicated.

Comparisons to other recent Japanese period pieces like Blue Eye Samurai (animated) and Shogun would be unwarranted since Last Samurai Standing comes with an identity of its own. It's a decidedly mainstream affair, but one that isn't hesitant to get closer to its characters, even though not all are fully formed. However, there is enough political intrigue and espionage running in the background to enhance the foreground action, thereby making some of its shortcomings seem negligible.

Based on Shogo Imamura's novel of the same name, Last Samurai Standing leaves us with a few unanswered questions, which one hopes will be handled in the next chapter. And one also hopes the makers don't take too long because most multi-season shows today that captivated us in the beginning run the risk of losing our interest by the time the second or third seasons arrive.

Series: Last Samurai Standing
Directors: Michihito Fujii, Kento Yamaguchi, Toru Yamamoto
Cast: Junichi Okada, Yumia Fujisaki, Kaya Kiyohara, Hiroshi Tamaki, Hideaki Itō
Rating: 4/5

predator-badlands-review-dan-trachtenberg-delivers-yet-another-astounding-brainy-action-spectacle

Fri Nov 07 15:58:19 IST 2025

Dan Trachtenberg is doing today what James Cameron did at the peak of his imaginative and filmmaking prowess. In his new film Predator: Badlands, he does something similar to what Cameron did with the first two Terminator films. For one, he plucks a member of an alien race and turns him into a "good guy" — a shift reminiscent of Arnold Schwarzenegger's malevolent killing machine-turned-benevolent saviour evolution in Terminator 2: Judgment Day. The immediate thought that came to me is the way in which we react when a terrifying reptile appears in front of us. Has it occurred to you that the reptile is minding its own business, and we just happened to cross its path, and whatever it does next will depend on whether we are going to attack it or move away from it?

Predator: Badlands opens with another familiar image, one from Trachtenberg's Prey — of a tiny creature consumed by a relatively bigger creature, which is in turn eaten by a larger predator. As though very attached to his creation, Trachtenberg makes this a recurring image a couple of times, but thankfully, he doesn't make the mistake of repeating what he did in the other two Predator entries. There are, of course, some delightful nods to not just earlier films in the series but also the original Alien saga. When Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi), the Yautja “hero” of Badlands, lands on a hostile alien planet in pursuit of a trophy, he encounters threats that make those faced by Jake Scully in his first arrival on Pandora seem extremely tame in comparison. Cameron's Avatar films may not have anything new to offer (a pity!), but Badlands owes as much to Cameron's early work as to the work of another legend, George Lucas.

Fans of Star Wars, specifically the original trilogy, will find the latest Yautja adventure bearing striking visual tributes. I also didn't expect to walk into an action spectacle and find myself deeply moved by the end. Who would've expected a Predator film to implicitly denounce the ills of patriarchal conditioning and toxic masculinity? It may seem funny to see these words in the review of an action movie. No spoilers, but the events in Badlands are kicked off with a disquieting conflict inside a dysfunctional family on the Yautja planet that quickly turns ugly. How could it not when you hail from a family where weakness isn't tolerated — a family that doesn't consider you a member of the Yautja clan unless you've brought back a trophy. And what’s this trophy? A certain creature that’s unlike anything we’ve seen before. But before getting to it, Dek has to overcome many life-threatening obstacles and game-like levels. The only way to do that is if he takes the effort to not only adapt and improvise, but also break away from the kind of conditioning that taught him that you earn the 'Alpha' label only if you do a certain thing.

The most brilliant quality of Badlands is Trachtenberg telling a very human story with two unlikely comrades: an extraterrestrial being who sees "sensitivity" as a weakness and an android with "feelings". When the former eventually realises it's time to do away with archaic ideas, it leads to some of the film's most stunning action setpieces, which include a remarkably ingenious callback to the finale of Aliens, the James Cameron-directed sequel for which Badlands is a perfect mirror image, thematically speaking. The deeper you go into Badlands, the parent-child bond — fractured or otherwise — is revealed as a recurring motif, thereby making Badlands undoubtedly the most moving entry in the Predator franchise yet. Even the Schwarzenegger original cannot boast of the various astonishing feats managed by Badlands in the emotional department.

The planet Genna, upon which Dek crash-lands, introduces flora and fauna with personalities both terrifying and amusing. Some are revealed to possess healing properties, others become potential weapons for future battles (with jaw-dropping choreography!). Of the several creatures of varying sizes, some may become enemies, others allies. Have you ever imagined a silkworm-type creature that can slowly turn its body into a grenade? Have you imagined an ape-like creature with a tough exterior capable of thwarting destruction from a giant creature's fang? You'll find them here. There are much more. Badlands is loaded with more surprises than you can count. And that also applies to the emotions department. Combine all this with the rousing score cooked up by Sarah Schachner and Benjamin Wallfisch, and seamless 3D, and you have a worthwhile time at the movies!

With the trio of Prey, Predator: Killer of Killers, and Predator: Badlands, Trachtenberg has firmly cemented himself as a maverick visionary whose storytelling talents are on par with the greats. Badlands ends with the promise of another installment, one I cannot wait to watch. Meanwhile, let me book another round of this one.

Film: Predator: Badlands

Director: Dan Trachtenberg

Cast: Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi, Elle Fanning, Mike Homik

Rating: 5/5

ithiri-neram-review-roshan-mathew-and-zarin-shihab-bring-genuine-feelings-to-the-table

Fri Nov 07 09:50:09 IST 2025

Ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out simply because you met this person at the wrong time? Do you still nurse any regrets about not being able to muster enough courage to steer the boat in the direction you wanted it to sail then? Or, ever come across a couple who should’ve been together, but the timing of their meeting wasn’t simply right, because they met much earlier than they were supposed to? Ah, well, that’s life, no? Sometimes you’ve got to live with the ever-present sting left by missed opportunities.

Don’t let the above passage discourage you. Prashanth Vijay’s Ithiri Neram (English: A Little While), his third feature, is his most mainstream work yet. Usually a maker of film festival-friendly material, Prasanth’s direction in Ithiri Neram (scripted by Vishak Shakti) is one that’s accessible to everyone, not just the ones who like to boast about “getting” experimental films while sipping wine at parties.

The very fact that Roshan Mathew and Zarin Shihab are the lead actors in this should be sufficient to those who believe in serious, unadulterated cinema led by serious, unadulterated performers who behave like real people with genuine feelings.

One of the advantages of Ithiri Neram — named after a talk show run by Roshan’s character, Anish, a content creator — is that it combines the sensibilities of two different generations of Malayalam cinema. It applies storytelling techniques from both old and ‘new gen’ cinema, resulting in a profoundly moving outcome.

Watching an intellectual spout unconventional views on relationships, marital bonds, societal norms, and patriarchal conditioning may be fun — but how many of us have the guts to break the shackles imposed by rigid structures and narrow-mindedness to do what we think is right? The famous guest whom Anish invites to his chat show may have led a lifestyle that most people cannot digest. Perhaps listeners wish to do the same, but lack courage. They fear their reputation getting tainted. They fear being branded outcasts. Anish, too, is about to get his beliefs tested when his ex-girlfriend visits town briefly.

Here’s the challenge that we think we are about to see. Anish is married with a kid. His ex, Anjana (Zarin Shihab), is still single. We’ll learn more about her soon. In fact, we’ll get to know more about both in such a short span that you slowly begin to feel that you’ve known them for a long time.

Perhaps it has to do with both Anjana and Anish exhibiting traits that you recognise within yourself. When a film manages to do that in two hours, it's a resounding success, at least to the person who felt a deep connection with these characters. With her astoundingly natural turn in Ithiri Neram, Zarin once again proves herself as a formidable performer, a force to be reckoned with. Note the scene where the camera slowly moves towards her when Anjana asks Anish if he missed her. More such poignant moments are found as you venture further.

The film conjures up feelings that evoke some acclaimed titles from international cinema that has explored similar terrain, but in small doses — from David Lean’s Brief Encounter to Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise/Sunset to Alain Resnais’ Hiroshima Mon Amour to Clint Eastwood’s The Bridges of Madison County — in addition to two examples from Malayalam cinema: Padmarajan’s Thoovanathumbikal and Kamal’s Megamalhaar.

There are little details in the early scenes that may seem insignificant at first, but begin to make sense within the context of a later scene. Roshan plays Anish as a character embodying layers of felt meaning that register subconsciously. Anish seems more complex, and Roshan's face acts like a flickering screen, suggesting multiple fleeting possibilities and emotions. Anjana is relatively an open book. And how apt it is that these two characters chose to meet at a bar named Vandanam, the Mohanlal-Priyadarshan classic renowned for its bittersweet ending?

But Ithiri Neram knows when to take a breather — to take a brief detour to lighten the mood, to diffuse the tension in the air. For a certain stretch, it assumes the form of an early Priyadarshan comedy, courtesy of the witty, sardonic banter between Nandhu (effortless as always) and Anand Manmadhan (getting better with every film), and a bit of physical comedy involving Roshan and Zarin. One cannot help but think, for example, of those comical Mohanlal-Revathi moments in Kilukkam or the Mohanlal-Aishwarya moments in Butterflies (in which a young Nandhu was a hilarious supporting character).

Playing Thiruvananthapuram natives, Nandhu and Anand seem very much at ease. They are not mere background characters, but rather active participants, occasionally giving us bits of information about Anish to give a clearer picture of his background. It's a smart writing choice. Filmmaker Jeo Baby (The Great Indian Kitchen, Kaathal: The Core) has a cameo as a rigidly conservative autorickshaw driver, the kind of character who could get lambasted in one of his own directorials.

I knew 40 minutes into the film that I was in safe hands, that I would end up liking this film — and I wasn't wrong. Sometimes, all you need is four main characters to get the job done. It was only last week that we saw filmmaker Rahul Sadasivan doing something similar with horror in Dies Irae. It's as difficult to make romantic dramas and comedies — and romantic comedies — as it is to scare people. Roshan, Zarin, Nandhu, and Anand bring a level of authenticity that I cannot imagine other actors bringing. I sure am glad they were available.

Film: Ithiri Neram
Director: Prasanth Vijay
Cast: Roshan Mathew, Zarin Shihab, Nandhu, Anand Manmadhan, Jeo Baby
Rating: 4.5/5

the-taj-story-review-when-whats-app-university-spills-on-screen

Fri Oct 31 20:39:47 IST 2025

When WhatsApp University spills on the screen, the result is Paresh Rawal-starrer The Taj Story, a mind-numbing snoozefest.

Let’s start with the premise: An Islamic structure built on the ruins of an ancient Hindu temple, has been recycled so many times, in politics and fiction alike, that it has ceased to outrage or even amuse. It just bores.

The Islamic structure in question here is the Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which draws millions of visitors to Agra every year, and remains a tall symbol of love between the 17th-century Mughal emperor Shah Jahan and his wife Mumtaz.

The film insists that the Taj Mahal wasn’t built by Shah Jahan, but was, in fact, a repurposed Shiva temple given a Mughal makeover, a conspiracy theory debunked several times, including by the apex court.

Paresh Rawal plays Vishnu Das, a veteran Taj Mahal guide who turns into a petitioner challenging the monument’s history after a drunken video of him questioning its origins goes viral and costs him his job.

What follows is a role Paresh Rawal has slipped into many times before — the unassuming everyman who, after a few stumbles, rises to the occasion and argues his own case, turning into a self-taught legal warrior, only that this time what he’s settling is not only personal but also civilisational. But while his 2012 film OMG landed well, given the tight writing, The Taj Story falls flat and not just as a propaganda film, because I can dare even the firm rightwing supporters to sit through this three-hour-long film, which can be a test for both your patience as well as intellect.

The film is so lazy it doesn’t bother to make Rawal’s ‘clever’ arguments clever. We’re simply told they’re clever through the reaction shots, his own self-satisfied stance and a swelling background score. Not to mention, everyone Rawal debates -- whether it’s Anwar Rashid, the defence lawyer played by Zakir Hussain, or the token historians, educationists, and archaeologists – is written as too feeble to withstand Rawal’s rhetoric, rendering the film as not just lazy but also non-serious.

There’s a constant us vs them rhetoric, no matter how much Rawal’s character tries proving that the question is about history, culture and civilisation. For example, you would instantly know who the kohl-eyed, bearded bad guys are. Oh! And there’s also a historian named Rahman Habib.

The film lines up every righting punching bag imaginable -- from the Mughals to ‘leftist’ historians and minorities -- to once again hammer on the tired question of “our history.” And also, they invent a new term: 'Intellectual terrorism'.

While the premise itself is lazy, what renders it even worse is the bad writing and editing. There are a few AI shots too, which further doesn’t do it any service. By the end, you’re left wondering -- why the Taj Mahal, of all things? And more importantly, can we finally move past our medieval history?

aaryan-review-vishnu-vishal-s-latest-crime-thriller-lacks-the-thrills

Fri Oct 31 14:46:49 IST 2025

In 2018, Vishnu Vishal's Ratsasan rewrote the rules of the crime thriller genre in Indian cinema. From its screenplay, direction and performances, it was a benchmark in storytelling for crime thrillers, so much so that there have been multiple remakes and films inspired by it over the years. After seven years, Vishal returns to the crime thriller with his latest offering Aaryan.

The film is set in Chennai and the opening act is intriguing as a struggling writer (Selvaraghavan) gatecrashes a popular television show hosted by Naina (Shraddha Srinath) and declares that he would orchestrate six murders in six days starting from today. If this doesn't send shockwaves amongst the people in the studio, revealing the first victim takes the tension up by a few notches.

DCP Nambi (Vishnu Vishal) is assigned this strange serial-killing case that apparently doesn't seem to have a pattern or motive from the outset. With no potential clues to work with, Nambi must win the race against time to track down the details of victims to protect them. Will he succeed in his mission? What is the connection between the six victims? Why did the writer plan these murders? All this forms the crux of Aaryan.

Comparisons are inevitable but first things first - Aaryan cannot be put in the same sentence as Ratsasan. While the opening act does spark curiosity, the screenplay is barely gripping and there is a monotonous nature to the film. Vishal tries to put in an earnest performance but he is let down by weak characterisation in the writing.

Director Praveen, who has also co-written the script along with Manu Anand, had a very interesting premise to work with. However, they aren't able get the viewers hooked to the investigation which appears very dated in its execution. Selvaraghavan puts in a solid act as the struggling author with layered emotions and arguably gets the meatiest character of them all including the main protagonist.

There isn't anything about Nambi that we haven't seen before in crime thrillers. He is a loner, has a broken marriage and is a workaholic. We've seen these tropes so many times that it requires an innovative screenplay to hold things together if you want to go down this route one more time. Unfortunately, Aaryan just takes the predictable option and some of the sequences are just too convenient than clever.

The other thing that misfires is the climax of the film. While the opening 15 minutes managed to create a spark, the finale couldn't match up to that. For a film that attempts to a different crime film, the jigsaw puzzle coming together at the end has to have a 'wow factor' in it. However, here it is more of a social message that just doesn't land.

Overall, Aaryan is a crime thriller with noble intentions but lacks the thrills and misses its mark.

Film: Aaryan

Cast: Vishnu Vishal, Selvaraghavan, Shraddha Srinath, Maanasa Choudhary, Karunakaran

Director: Praveen K

Rating: 2/5

dies-irae-review-pranav-mohanlal-aces-it-in-the-scariest-malayalam-film-of-the-year

Sat Nov 01 17:54:33 IST 2025

Well, Rahul Sadasivan doesn’t mess around. Those brave enough to sit through the late-night preview screening of Dies Irae, the filmmaker’s follow-up to Bramayugam, walked out with this very realisation. What he has cooked up with Pranav Mohanlal is nothing short of a brief rollercoaster ride through hell on earth. This is raw, trippy, and uncompromising horror at its best, the kind that slowly crawls up your spine and… plays with your hair.

Perhaps a horror film should be evaluated based on its ability to silence a trio of people who have been yapping next to us with their popcorn buckets. (Who can think of eating during a horror movie? Another man ordered both dinner and dessert, before and post-intermission, respectively.) Dies Irae is the kind of cinema experience that can cut through the noise; it brings enough chaos to make your hair stand on end, to make you sit up and pay attention. Your popcorn bucket and ice cream can wait. The events happening up there are way colder than your melting ice cream.

Sadasivan has already demonstrated in Bhoothakaalam and Bramayugam that he doesn't think like any other filmmaker in Malayalam cinema right now. With Dies Irae, he once again proves the maxim that you can create maximum scares with a minimalist and formalist approach. There is an excellent attempt at misdirection in the film's early portions. Just when you think you're watching something familiar, the rug (or bedsheet) is pulled from under you. In terms of the measure of dread it evokes, it comes closer to veritable excursions in the genre from contemporary Korean cinema such as The Wailing and Exhuma.

Sadasivan, his extraordinarily gifted cinematographer, Shehnad Jelal, editor Shafique Mohamed Ali, composer Christo Xavier, and the sound department (whose work deserves to be experienced on an Atmos screen), utilise what’s available and familiar to conjure an immersive audio-visual experience on par with the best of international cinema. It also helps that Dies Irae has minimal characters, unlike some recent overhyped and oversized extravaganzas, which have proven that too many cooks can spoil the broth.

As in Sadasivan's last two films, all the chilling events are confined to one or more homes, in which he imagines endless possibilities. In spirit, it’s closer to Bhoothakaalam than the Mammootty film. After all, what can be more terrifying than the thought of a certain entity troubling you in your own residence? As to the nature or gender of this entity… It's the best part of the whole mystery, one I won’t give away.

Sadasivan also proves to be one of the directors with whom Pranav Mohanlal, the actor, seems to have found much comfort, evident in the decidedly effortless manner in which he portrays Rohan, a wealthy young architect whose privilege makes him more desirable to others than his personality.

Dies Irae. Desire. There must be some of us who have mispronounced the former as the latter. Come to think of it, desire and obsession are predominant themes in the film, aside from guilt. Of course, there’s a reason why the film is named Dies Irae — not just to look cool, you see — an explanation for which is given at a crucial juncture, before leading up to one of the most terrifying reveals.

That ‘A’ rating is also there for a reason. It’s not ornamental. Let’s say Sadasivan has utilised it in the best way possible. In the theatre I went to, there was a collective gasp at one unbelievably gory sequence. I say unbelievable because this is the first time I’ve seen a Malayalam film pull off something boasting this level of unflinching realism, a quality that applies to the rest of the film, too, in fact.

It was also a smart move to keep details of some key cast members hidden, since, as mentioned earlier, this is a film that relies on you imagining your own story with multiple possibilities. But Sadasivan doesn’t offer the satisfaction of going in the direction you anticipate. Like in Bhoothakaalam, the beauty of Dies Irae lies in the unseen more than the seen. In darkness, light, and shadows. In secrets known only to the dead and undead. In unanswered questions. And Bhoothakaalam fans will find something special in the climactic moments that should bring a smile to their faces. To hell with all the other “shared” horror universes. This is the real deal. Talk about a hat trick. Yeah, Rahul Sadasivan doesn't mess around.

Film: Dies Irae

Director: Rahul Sadasivan

Cast: Pranav Mohanlal and others

Rating: 4.5/5

slow-horses-season-5-review-high-on-humour-low-on-thrills

Thu Oct 30 17:05:48 IST 2025

Ideally, when the last season has delivered a maximum-intensity experience, one expects the subsequent season to crank up the momentum. Slow Horses, however, have opted for a relatively mellow experience in Season 5. Opening with a chilling bloodshed, treated with admirable restraint and sensitivity, the show proceeds to go slow, regardless of the gravity of the situation being handled by the members of the Slough House, headed by Jackson Lamb (Gary Oldman).

However, once we're done with the finale, the overall experience feels tame when trying to recall the events of the previous season, which juggled not just multiple scenarios, but also a complex father-son conflict we didn't see coming.

Keeping the low reading on the thrill-o-meter aside, no decline in writing quality when it comes to the lead characters and the humour is noticed. There's the sense that Season 5 wanted to lean more into the humour (dark or otherwise) excavated from the trigger event — of a potential attempt on Roddy Ho's life (Christopher Chung) and questions arising from his association with a woman who may or may not be a dangerous femme fatale. Naturally, the situation provides enough fodder for Roddy's team members and Diana Taverner (Kristin Scott Thomas) to bombard him with anything from his "incel" behaviour to his strong delusions about "being in a relationship."

Season 5, streaming on Apple TV, also provides enough opportunities for us to get closer to River Cartwright (Jack Lowden) and his chaotic working relationship with Shirley Dander (Aimee-Ffion Edwards). The latter is still nursing the after-effects of Marcus' demise in the last season, running parallel to the loss of Louisa Guy, which interferes with her relationship with Cartwright. A blow to him, no doubt, but the show treats him as a character who has undergone considerable maturity, and makes it clear that wallowing in self-pity is not on its agenda and moves on to more important matters. Cartwright reveals himself to be a character who grows increasingly likable with each season.

Aside from Dander, who, despite being driven, still struggles with her drug addiction, and Cartwright’s growth, one of the other principal delights of Season 5 is its attempts to give more space to J.K. Coe (Tom Brooke), the reclusive operative who gets to showcase a whistle-worthy heroic side that emerges when we least expect it. He, too, gets to partake in some of the unforeseen darkly comic twists furnished during a particularly tense scenario towards the end of the season.

And once again, Oldman is stupendous as Lamb, who may have exposed an unseen vulnerable side, apart from, of course, the other unpleasant qualities that make it difficult for everyone to be in the same room as him. Credit to Oldman and the other cast members for creating the sensation of wanting to get away from the screen at times, because you can almost... smell him. Lamb continues to dish out one sardonic remark after another while also giving the sense that, deep down, he really cares about his team, no matter how incompetent they may seem. In one instance, he makes it clear that even Roddy is important to him because, like everyone else in the team, they all have strengths that prove useful in the course of a perilous assignment.

Season 5 ends with a visually unpleasant shot that raises an intriguing question: Does Jackson Lamb have a traumatic past hinted at in an earlier situation involving a crafty escape from a seemingly claustrophobic situation? As was the practice in the previous seasons, we get a glimpse of the next season, promising more thrilling and exciting adventures, while also teasing the return of a pivotal character from Season 4.

Series: Slow Horses - Season 5

Creator: Will Smith

Director: Saul Metzstein

Cast: Gary Oldman, Jack Lowden, Kristin Scott Thomas, Tom Brooke, Christopher Chung, Aimee-Ffion Edwards, Saskia Reeves

Rating: 3.5/5

a-house-of-dynamite-review-kathryn-bigelow-s-latest-isn-t-chilling-enough

Sat Oct 25 17:28:28 IST 2025

I didn't know mobile networks could get as bad in the U.S. as in India. It happens a couple of times in A House of Dynamite, the new thriller from Kathryn Bigelow, streaming on Netflix. Whether it succeeds in thrilling us or not will be addressed shortly. Much of the initial stretches of the film don't feel too different from conferences in our own offices, chiefly those conducted in newsrooms. At first, the picture of people standing in front of monitors with occasional zoom-ins and zoom-outs immediately recalls the Jason Bourne films. If Kathryn Bigelow wasn't mentioned as director, I would've assumed Paul Greengrass directed it.

But this kind of faux-documentary approach isn't just Greengrass's area of expertise; Bigelow has dabbled in the same quite often. There was a marked evolution in style from the joyously cinematic, atmosphere-heavy work such as Near Dark, Blue Steel, Point Break, Strange Days, and K-19: The Widowmaker to the relatively grittier, shaky-cam aesthetic of The Hurt Locker, Zero Dark Thirty, and Detroit. But we can spot brief, seamless experiments with the latter approach in even Bigelow’s pre-Hurt Locker work, applied wherever the need arose for the viewers to be put in the protagonist’s headspace.

A House of Dynamite is an elevated version of Alfred Hitchcock's "bomb under the table" analogy, with meditations on moral and geopolitical concerns thrown into the mix. The "bomb" is a warhead fired by an unknown country, an event utilised by Bigelow to stage Rashomon-style perspectives switching between White House officials, security advisors, and senior military personnel, before introducing us to the President himself, played by Idris Elba.

With A House of Dynamite, Bigelow ventures into a territory similar to that in classic Cold War-era thrillers like Seven Days in May, Dr Strangelove, Fail-Safe — all released in the same year! The only difference here? We aren't told who the threat is, a narrative choice that may seem frustrating to some. Perhaps there's a point here. Why does it matter? After all, a threat is a threat, regardless of who pushed the button. How do we deal with it?

The onus is on the President, and Elba conveys all the necessary and palpable anxieties and dilemmas that plague a man in his position. He is not the hero of this picture. At one point, we get the kind of "hero entry" moment usually accompanying an address before a large gathering. The song is Phil Collins' 'In the Air Tonight', the kind of rousing composition that has even been used for comical effect in films like The Hangover. Elba walks into a women's basketball tournament with his bodyguards and a smile, with the song announcing his arrival. While he is "showing off", his aides comment on the same: "All of them are narcissists." Minutes later, something happens that immediately dispels the image of the “heroic leader” — a far cry from recent depictions in Hollywood, which include Elba's Heads of State (with John Cena and Priyanka Chopra).

But here's the problem with the film. It got progressively difficult to sustain my interest as we got into the third act, primarily because it slowly becomes apparent that this particular situation, which is supposed to be "tense" and "chilling," registers none. The staging of it all, especially the aforementioned Rashomon approach, begins to overshadow everything else. We are left with a sense of, "What's the point?" That is, if you don't already find yourself frustrated by all the technical jargon and acronyms being thrown about numerous times. At times, I had to pause the film to check whether the acronym being mentioned is indeed a reference to a certain regime or a submarine-launched ballistic missile (if I remember correctly). A House of Dynamite is not a film I'd categorise under 'terrible'; it simply ends up a bland, feeble affair when compared to better examples in a similar domain. Even a weak Kathryn Bigelow film has something interesting to say, even when the impact is short-lived.

Film: A House of Dynamite
Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Cast: Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, Gabriel Basso, Jared Harris, Tracy Letts, Anthony Ramos, Greta Lee, Jason Clarke
Rating: 3/5