The first season of ‘Yeh Kaali Kaali Aankhein’ became an addictive watch in the way it bent one of the oldest genres in the book: being an obsessive lover is not just a male prerogative; women can do it just as well, if not better. It made up for all its nods to hoary Hindi movie heavies who lived in palaces overrun by armed goons, governed by old-style off-with-their-heads villainy.

Hindi movies have played with fire several times before. Those with long memories will remember such films as the 1980 adventure ‘The Burning Train’, which may have picked up inspiration from an earlier Hollywood blockbuster ‘The Towering Inferno’, but those who fight the flames at the risk of their own lives, have never been in the limelight.

The face-off between tradition and modernity, past and present, the strict rules of gharana-and-parampara vs doing-your-own-thing, which were the key notes of the first season of ‘Bandish Bandits’, are back again in the second. As are many of the actors, reprising their roles, along with new faces, as the story takes off from where it left off, back in 2020.

Crime reporter Joy Bag (Manoj Bajpayee) is not the kind of journalist we see too often in Hindi movies. His favourite accompaniment is his rucksack, as he goes about criss-crossing the city on his bike, in search of the latest story. He’s been doing this for a while, because he talks to his seniors like an equal, but at heart he will always remain a scrappy newshound who likes nothing better than chatting up shadowy contacts over cups of cheap cutting chai, which he prefers to the pizza his wife serves at unwelcome parties at home.

A large jewellery exhibition in Mumbai becomes the site of a heist. A hysterical phone call raises alarm, gunfire is heard, the cops on duty herd the panicked gathering into a secluded area, and during the melee, a fistful of precious gems go missing.

A woman leans on a pole in her compartment, for support, for balance, swaying with the rhythm of the train. She looks exhausted, after a long day at work. We take in, like she does, the way the city looks at night, bars of refracted light and darkness dancing across her face. This image, which comes early in Payal Kapadia’s lyrical ode to working-class Mumbai and female friendship, becomes a marker of the themes the film explores, and it stays with you.

The choice of using ‘Freedom At Midnight’, Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre’s account of the tumultuous build-up to India’s independence in August 1947, as the basis for the seven-part web series of the same name achieves one thing above all else: adapting from source material which has been in existence for several years, especially from the celebrity author duo who couldn’t be accused of being either pro-India, or pro-Pakistan, frees creator and director Nikkhil Advani of being accused similar bias.

On paper, ‘Vijay 69’ must have felt like a splendid idea. Old men dodder. They don’t go about being potty-mouthed, or making sad sex jokes. How about getting Vijay Mathew, a ripe 69, to have a vocabulary which is more foul than fair, even if he has reached grandfather status? Next, how about setting him an impossible task? Even the fittest baulk at attempting the triathlon. Why not get our elderly hero to have a dash at it? Vijay lives in a house surrounded by the memories of his dead wife, the only one who used to encourage him in his endeavours, the chief of which seems to be getting ranked in a swimming race. Everyone else, including his dearest friend Fali (Chunky Panday donning a grey wig and the broadest Parsi accent that can be mustered), thinks he’s gone bananas.

First things first: all hail the arrival of Samantha Ruth Prabhu, Indian cinema’s first real female action star who demands our attention from the get-go and never loses it through the six part series, Citadel: Honey Bunny. She’s coiled, ready for action, exploding off the screen whenever the script demands it of her, and the demand stays consistently high. As the family woman-cum-spry spy, who will do anything to protect her daughter, Samantha’s Honey is the best part of this enterprise, directed and written by Raj and DK (Sita Menon also gets writing and directing credit), and executive produced by the Russo Bros.

All right folks, we are back in the labyrinth. For a third time. Lots of stuff that we remember from the earlier outings. Creaky two-hundred-year-old Bengali havelis. Locked rooms. Vengeful ‘aatmas’. Ghosts who flit about. And characters who spout their lines, and vanish.